He was in a dream, but it felt no different from memory.
His father stood by the stone steps of their modest house, adjusting the leather straps on his travel pack. He was preparing to leave—again—for one of his trade journeys across the border, maybe to the Southern Lakes or the Gilded Pathway. Business, he'd always say, but Raen had long understood that 'business' often meant silence, distance, and weeks without a familiar voice at the hearth.
His mother swept the wooden floors inside, humming a tune with no lyrics. The same one she always sang when she thought no one was listening. His sister, a little whirlwind with dirt on her cheeks and mismatched socks, ran barefoot outside, laughing at something invisible in the wind.
Raen was in the forest.
Not far—just past the hill where the roots bent like crooked fingers and the rocks always stayed warm even in cold seasons. He carried a small basket and a knife, scanning the ground for plump brown mushrooms. His mother liked them in soup, and tonight was a soup kind of night.
This had been his life. Simple, but never idle. At fourteen, when his father was gone for long stretches, Raen took up the missing weight. He learned to string a bow, to track deer prints, to split logs in the morning frost. His hands bled sometimes, but he never showed it.
The forest was where he felt most like himself—alert, alive, alone but not lonely. The trees remembered him. The wind brushed his shoulders like it knew his name.
And in this dream, everything remained still—just long enough for him to forget the wagers, the Revenants, and the blood.
But dreams don't last.
The air shifted.
It started as a crackling static beneath his skin, like the world forgot it was a dream. Then came the interface, sudden and bright, a pulse of cold logic tearing through the warmth of memory.
> [Wagering System Notification]
Gemstone Activation Detected – "Fragment of the Shattered King"
Memory Trace: Calamity's Throne
Subject: [The Shattered King]
Accessing historical residual… Brace for memory immersion.
What? Raen barely had time to blink. The world around him—the trees, the sun, his sister's laugh—fractured like glass struck by lightning.
And then he was elsewhere.
The sky was the color of coal-fire. Stone towers cracked like bone around him, and a throne of rusted iron sat twisted in the ash. A man—no, a king—stood barefoot atop a ruined altar, wearing a crown that didn't fit. His face was carved with cracks, his voice a whisper wrapped in thunder.
> "They said I'd burn for power. So I lit the kingdom first."
Raen staggered backward, but there was no ground. He wasn't watching—he was within. The man's grief, fury, resignation—they settled into his bones like a second soul.
He saw the kingdom fall. He saw the prince weep beside a corpse that would never rise. He saw the gods betting behind veils, laughing in dialects older than fire.
And then—
He returned.
Not to the forest, but to the cold, damp tunnel. His breath came sharp. His hand was trembling. His fingers still smelled of moss and bark—but his head throbbed with the weight of someone else's ruin.
> [Memory Trace Complete]
Trait Data Logged: [Emotive Sovereignty – Incomplete]
This Gemstone holds partial emotional authority from a historical sovereign. Residual knowledge stored. Future fragments may complete the trait.
Raen wiped his brow, breathing out slowly.
"So… that's what a Gemstone does," he muttered, voice dry, shaken but steady. "Not just knowledge. Not just history. They burn it into you."
The system had said emotional authority. That meant he hadn't just seen the Shattered King's pain—he'd carried a piece of it. Whatever this trait was, it was deeper than power or skill. It was inheritance.
And that made it dangerous.
Raen stirred with a low groan as sensation returned to his body—not all at once, but in painful pulses. His limbs were stiff, his chest tight. He tried to move and immediately winced as fire surged through his ribs.
His breath caught in his throat, raw and ragged. There were bandages wrapped tightly around his midsection, his arms too—haphazard but firm. Torn cloth, scavenged gauze, maybe even the remains of old wager uniforms.
The walls around him were stone, slick with condensation and time.
I should be dead. I should've been ripped apart, burned alive, or crushed under that thing's fist.
A faint shuffle echoed nearby, soft against the stone. Then a voice—cool, measured, and familiar.
"Took you long enough to wake up."
His heart clenched.
He turned his head slowly, almost in disbelief, and there she was—Selene, leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, her expression unreadable in the low light. Her eyes, reflective like glass, studied him without guilt. Like she had done nothing wrong.
Raen's jaw clenched.
"You?" His voice was hoarse, laced with venom. "What, here to finish the job? Or just here to gloat?"
Selene raised an eyebrow. "Neither. I came back to check if you were still breathing."
"You left me," he said, slowly sitting up despite the pain. "You ran. You watched me bleed, laughed, and vanished."
She pushed off the wall and stepped closer. "I ran because I had a plan," she said calmly. "To flank the revenant. To strike it from behind while it focused on you. It was supposed to be quick."
"Supposed to be," he echoed, biting the words. "But it left. On its own. You didn't do anything."
Selene sighed, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "It retreated before I reached it. Maybe you scared it off. Maybe something else did. I don't know."
He laughed—short and bitter. "Don't lie to me. You bailed."
"And yet," she said, motioning toward his bandaged chest, "you're alive. Because I came back. I found supplies in what's left of the Prisoners versus Enforcers wager zone. Bandages. Pain suppressors. If I didn't, you'd be dead."
Raen's eyes narrowed, but his anger flickered for a moment.
She didn't have to come back. And yet… she did. Why? Guilt? Or does she still need me?
"You didn't do it out of kindness," he said finally.
"No," she admitted. "I did it because you're useful. And because you're the only other person here who knows what's going on."
Silence followed. Raen stared at the dark ceiling.
"I should've let the revenant rip your face off," he muttered.
Selene smirked faintly. "You probably tried."
After another tense pause, she held out a hand—not for a handshake, but as a gesture.
"Temporary truce," she said. "We don't know where we are. You're not at full strength. I can't take on whatever's next alone."
Raen didn't move. Then, slowly, with visible reluctance, he gave a faint nod.
"Fine. But don't expect forgiveness."
Selene gave a noncommittal shrug. "Wouldn't dream of it."
---
The cold stone pressed against Raen's back, still damp and unforgiving. He hadn't moved much—his body simply wouldn't let him.
Every breath felt like a negotiation. But at least the bleeding had stopped, and the pain had dulled to something he could think through.
Selene had settled into a crouch beside a broken pillar, her back to the tunnel wall.
She'd been quiet for a while, her fingers absently tracing the edge of a rusted enforcer badge she'd scavenged earlier. The silence between them was no longer hostile, just tired.
Raen shifted, trying to sit upright again. "When I can walk," he muttered, "we'll head out. No point staying here if that revenant circles back."
Selene tilted her head with mock concern. "When you can walk, huh? Might take a while. Want me to have my shadow carry you like a princess?"
He didn't even glare. He was too drained. "Fine," he muttered, closing his eyes, "as long as it doesn't drop me halfway and pretend it was an accident."
She chuckled. "No promises."
Raen breathed in slowly. He opened his eyes again, slowly, and turned his gaze toward her.
"There's something else," he said. "Something I noticed."
Selene raised an eyebrow but didn't interrupt.
"When I blacked out, something triggered. From the gemstone I picked up. It pulled me into a memory—but not mine. Someone else's. A memory that felt like happened in the past."
Selene straightened slightly, interest flickering in her eyes. "You mean like a vision?"
"No, not exactly," Raen said, voice low. "It wasn't a vision. It was a memory. It belonged to someone—maybe the Ashborn Prince, maybe one of his knights. It was real, but out of order. Like I was remembering the past of this place through someone else's eyes."
Selene was quiet now, watching him closely.
"I don't know where these gemstones come from, but they're more than relics," he continued. "They carry memories that help fill in the blanks. If we find more of them, we might start to understand what happened here—what this kingdom is, and what the throne even means."
And maybe, he thought, we'll figure out why this place wants us here so badly.
Selene leaned her head back against the wall. "So... magical memory rocks. That show us what's going on. Convenient."
Raen smirked faintly. "Convenient is not the word I'd use for this place."
"Fair enough," she said. "Still, if they lead us closer to figuring out the throne, I'm in."
She stretched her legs and stood. "Rest up, Gemstone Boy. Your noble shadow ride awaits."
Raen closed his eyes again, letting the silence fall between them. But his thoughts stayed sharp.
The throne, the Ashborn Prince, the kingdom trapped in stasis. It's all connected... and the gemstones are the key.
The tunnel curved and narrowed in places, stones jutting from the walls like broken teeth. The air grew warmer as they climbed, heavy with dust and old decay.
Shadows clung to the edges, but Selene's summoned beast—a sleek, ink-black creature with no eyes and an ever-pulsing jawline—moved smoothly through the dark, carrying Raen like some silent steed of the underworld.
"I always knew you were royalty," Selene said from behind, her voice teasing. "But I didn't think I'd be hauling your highness through a crypt."
"Shut up," Raen muttered, one arm slung over the shadow's curved neck. "This wasn't my idea."
She smirked. "Sure, just remember, if you annoy me, I can tell it to drop you. Or worse—jiggle you."
The shadow beast gave a little ripple beneath him, like it understood, and Raen winced. His ribs still ached.
This is humiliating.
Inside the collapsed tunnel mouth, pale light filtered through cracks above, enough to mark time.
Afternoon was coming, but they didn't want to be here when it did. Raen could feel it—an itch behind the skin, a pull from the world itself. Like something shifted when the sun moved.
"I'm hungry," he said suddenly, the realization slipping out like breath. He hadn't felt it before. Not since entering the Prisoners vs Enforcers wager.
Selene blinked. "Really? Huh. Me too, now that you mention it."
Raen frowned. "That's new. The first wager must've suppressed it... but now we're in another phase. It's real again."
"Real hunger, real pain," Selene said, glancing toward a stairwell choked in roots and rubble. "Fantastic."
Raen leaned slightly on the shadow's back, watching how the stones underfoot looked too old, too worn for something recently summoned by a wager. "It feels like the wager changed. Something about the rules... shifted."
Selene tilted her head. "You saying we're not in the same game?"
"I don't know," Raen said. "But if this is a second phase... then we're probably deeper in."
And that means it's harder to get out.
"Maybe the House running the wager doesn't even know we're in this part," he added quietly.
Selene's smirk faded. "That's a terrifying thought."
"Yeah," Raen muttered, gripping the edge of the shadow beast's spine. "Bad news."
---
They found the tunnel by accident—half-covered in ash and vine, a crooked hatch sunk into the remains of a broken fountain. The descent was narrow and cold, but it was shelter, and shelter was rare.
They hadn't seen a single edible thing all day. No fruits, no beasts, not even carrion. Just stone, bone, and the long echoes of a ruined kingdom.
Raen leaned against the wall, one leg stretched, the other bent. The shadow beast dissolved into smoke near the entrance, dismissed with a wave from Selene.
She sat across from him, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes watching him like she wasn't sure if he'd try to strangle her in her sleep.
"So," she said at last, "you still mad?"
Raen scoffed. "I'm too tired to be mad."
Selene smirked faintly. "That's not a no."
He didn't reply.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the occasional drop of water hitting old stone.
"You ever eat shadow before?" she asked.
Raen gave her a look.
"Just joking," she said, then sighed. "I didn't think food would be this rare."
"It's not just rare," Raen murmured, "it's absent. Like this place isn't made for the living."
Selene tilted her head back against the wall. "Well. At least if we starve to death, we'll die in good company."
"You think this is good company?"
She grinned. "Better than dying alone."
Raen didn't smile, but he didn't argue either.
She's still dangerous, but at least she's here. That counts for something.