In a realm untouched by time, darkness reigned supreme. At its heart stood a throne, forged not from mere stone or metal but from feathers—black as the abyss, woven so seamlessly together that they seemed like solid steel. It was an ominous construct, exuding an aura of silent authority.
Upon this throne sat a motionless figure, clad in a Stygian mantle that draped over an onyx-black armor, sculpted with inhuman precision. There was no movement, no rise and fall of breath. It was a corpse—a lifeless husk frozen in time.
Then, a flicker of black light bloomed in the chamber. It was paradoxical—despite its dark hue, it illuminated the space, casting twisted shadows against the towering pillars lined with intricate runes. The radiance, silent yet potent, drifted forward, drawn irresistibly toward the unmoving figure. It seeped into the corpse's chest and vanished.
Silence.
A second passed. Then another. Then—a finger twitched.
The figure stirred, the stillness breaking like shattered glass. Slowly, he rose, his helmet dissolving into the surrounding void, revealing his face. His skin was pale—unnaturally so—but rather than looking sickly, it bore an ethereal quality. His eyes, dark as molten iron, gleamed with unfathomable depth, and his black hair, slicked back, framed his sharp features with an effortless grace.
A slow, knowing smile formed on his lips. When he spoke, his voice was smooth as silk, yet carried a weight that pressed upon reality itself.
"How rare… A mortal has achieved something quite remarkable."
His smile widened, but it did not reach his eyes. They remained cold, calculating—amused, yet touched by something else. Something distant.
"This might even make for an interesting diversion," he mused, the words carrying a quiet finality.
With a flick of his wrist, six letters materialized before him, hovering in the air. They were unlike any mundane parchment—crafted from matte-black paper, their white seals bore the insignia of a demonic mask. The words etched on each cover glowed faintly:
**Call of the Forgotten.**
The entity studied them for a moment, then with another effortless gesture, they vanished—sent to their intended recipients across space and time.
For a moment, the figure remained still, his gaze lingering in the void. Then, a quiet sigh escaped him, laced with something unfathomable—regret, perhaps, or something deeper.
His voice, now barely a whisper, carried a solemn weight.
"Although… I wouldn't wish this fate upon anyone."
A heartbeat of silence.
Then he chuckled—a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the vast emptiness, as if the very shadows laughed with him.
"Then again… perhaps it was never a fate at all."
Still smiling, he sank back into his throne, fingers steepled in contemplation.
"Time to prepare for the arrival of my… distinguished guests."
And with that, the darkness swallowed him whole.
Ivory Tower, Dream Realm
Suspended above Bastion, bathed in pale moonlight, the Ivory Tower stood as a beacon in the Dream Realm. Inside its grand halls, five Saints—figures revered across two worlds—gathered for a rare moment of peace.
At the heart of it all, the Changing Star, humanity's beacon, stood in the kitchen, an apron draped over her battle-hardened form as she prepared a meal. It was a sight few could ever imagine, yet here, in the warmth of camaraderie, it was simply natural.
At the table, laughter rang out.
"You won't believe what an absolute art piece Master Sunless is," Effie declared, taking a swig of alcohol so potent it could even get Saints drunk.
Jet chuckled. "Effie, don't you have a loving husband and a child?"
Effie waved her off. "So? Admiring beauty is an art form of its own. Besides," she grinned mischievously, "we still need to find a suitor for our dear Princess Nephis, don't we?"
Kai and Cassie chuckled while Jet smirked, clearly entertained.
As if on cue, Nephis emerged from the kitchen, carrying trays of food. Effie was already eyeing the meal like a starving beast when Nephis placed it on the table. She was about to open her mouth—to shut down their ridiculous matchmaking ideas—when the room changed.
The fire dimmed. A hush fell over them.
The warmth of the hall was replaced by something... wrong.
A chill crept in, not from the wind, but from an unnatural force that made the very air feel heavier.
Then, five black letters materialized before them.
Each was matte black, sealed with an unfamiliar white emblem—a demonic mask. Written in elegant white ink were the words:
"Call of the Forgotten."
Silence stretched.
Their instincts screamed at them to be wary. The Saints had faced horrors beyond imagination, yet something about these letters made their skin crawl.
After long seconds, Cassie finally broke the silence. "I think we should open them." Her voice was quiet, yet certain.
The others hesitated. They weren't ones to be reckless. But... their intuition told them the same thing.
With a shared look, they reached out—slowly, deliberately—before breaking the seal.
Inside was a single black parchment. And on it, just one question:
"Do you wish for the memories lost to be regained? [Yes/No]"
Their grips tightened.
Nephis' expression darkened. Memories lost? Could this be connected to what happened during the Third Nightmare?
Cassie's hands trembled slightly. More than anyone, she had suffered the most. Ever since that nightmare, her ability to see into the future had been... off. The sensation of something missing, something vital, had haunted her for years.
She exhaled sharply. "Yes. I do."
Nephis caught her wrist, her voice firm. "Cassie. We don't know if this is a trap."
"I know," Cassie whispered. "But if we don't accept, we may never find out what was taken from us."
The others exchanged glances. None of them said it aloud, but they all felt it—the quiet, gnawing sensation that something had been altered, erased.
Finally, Nephis sighed. "Fine. We'll choose 'yes.' But stay on guard."
A shared breath. A final glance.
Effie groaned. "If this turns out to be a prank, I'm eating whoever sent these damn letters."
And with that, they poured their essence into the letters.
Darkness surged forth, swallowing them whole.
The Ivory Tower was empty.
A Basement, Song Domain
Far from the Ivory Tower, in a quiet, dark basement, a similar event unfolded.
Rain lay curled up on her small bed, exhaustion pulling her into a deep sleep. She had spent the day culling Dormant beasts—work that never seemed to end.
Her master was absent today. He had told her he had an urgent matter to attend to. She had scoffed, flashing him a mischievous grin.
"Wow, finally a day without the spirit of an evil god monitoring me!"
His reaction had been priceless. The berating afterward? Worth it.
But now, as she slept, the air in the room shifted.
A cold, suffocating stillness crept in. The shadows stretched unnaturally.
Her instincts screamed.
Her eyes snapped open—only to see a black letter floating inches from her face.
She yelped, scrambling back against the wall. Heart hammering, she stared at the letter.
The words on its cover sent a strange, eerie sensation down her spine:
"Call of the Forgotten."
Rain swallowed. Despite the ominous feeling curling in her chest, her fingers itched to grab it.
Slowly, cautiously, she reached out and unsealed it.
Inside, the same message:
"Do you wish for the memories lost to be regained? [Yes/No]"
Her breath caught. Memories lost?
Her mind raced.
There had always been gaps in her past—strange inconsistencies she couldn't explain. The biggest one?
How had she met the members of Changing Star's cohort?
She had never found an answer.
Something inside her screamed that this was the moment to find out.
Even knowing it could be a trap, her hand moved on its own. Her finger pressed down on "Yes."
Darkness surged forward.
And Rain was gone.
A Room, An Unknown Place
Six figures appeared in the void.
Before they could react, a massive screen flickered into existence, displaying:
[The lost memories shall now unfold before those who have answered the Call of the Forgotten.]
[Please take your seats.]
All six figures stared at the screen, their expressions a mix of confusion and disbelief.
Kai furrowed his brows, his voice uncertain as he muttered, "Are we seriously going to regain our memories… by watching them like a movie?"
Effie groaned, crossing her arms. "If this turns out to be some elaborate prank, I swear—" she shot a glance at the dark surroundings, "—I'm going to find whoever's responsible and make them pay. I didn't even get to finish my dinner!"
The others sighed, already used to her priorities.
Before anyone could respond, a sudden yelp echoed through the room. The saints turned sharply, their gazes landing on a young woman standing at the edge of the space, her expression frozen in shock. Dressed in black nightclothes, as if she had been sleeping just moments ago, she stared at them with wide eyes.
Rain swallowed, stammering out, "A- am I… am I really seeing the Changing Star cohort here?"
The saints exchanged glances, uneasy. They all recognized the girl standing before them, yet an unsettling void in their memories prevented them from recalling how.
Nephis took a step forward, her tone measured yet gentle. "Rain, right? How did you end up here?"
Rain hesitated for a moment before answering, "I… found a letter. It was just floating in my room. It said I could regain my lost memories, so I—" she trailed off, looking at them uncertainly.
Cassie narrowed her eyes. "You've experienced memory loss too?"
Rain nodded.
A heavy silence settled over them as an unspoken understanding passed between the saints. Each of them had felt it—the inexplicable gaps in their memories, the unsettling sense that something important had been taken from them.
Jet exhaled sharply and leaned back in her seat. "Alright, seems like we're all in the same boat. I guess the only thing left to do is follow along." She gestured toward the empty seats. "Might as well sit down and see where this goes."
Reluctantly, they all took their places in the plush chairs, which looked as if they had been taken straight from a high-end cinema.
The text on the screen shifted:
[The past and future will both be revealed.]
[The first memory is chosen]
A tense anticipation filled the air as the screen went black.
Then, the first memory began to play.