The world beyond the stone arch was silent.
Not the silence of absence—but of memory.
The air shimmered faintly with silver dust, like the breath of something long asleep. A winding path stretched forward, paved in dark jade tiles that pulsed softly beneath Dawn's feet as he walked.
No walls. No sky. Just mist.
He couldn't tell how far he had come—only that **something was waiting**.
Not watching.
Waiting.
---
He passed a series of stone pillars, each etched with ancient script too faded to read. Their presence alone felt heavy. Familiar.
One pillar cracked slightly as he stepped near it. A flicker of heat ran up his spine. He turned.
And a voice—thin, layered, not quite human—echoed through the mist.
"Six pulses. Violet will. Bloodline confirmed."
A faint hum passed through the ground.
A circle of light formed beneath him.
"You have passed the threshold.
This memory is not meant for you.
But it remembers you nonetheless."
---
Suddenly, the mist parted.
A wide platform unfolded ahead—floating in a sea of pale sky. At its center hovered a statue: half-dragon, half-phoenix, its wings curved protectively around a glowing sphere.
The **moment Dawn stepped forward**, the sphere flared.
Light exploded outward—gold, red, violet—blinding and cold.
And in the next breath—
He was standing somewhere else.
---
A burned field.
The air stank of ash and scorched blood.
Corpses lay scattered—beasts and humans both, fallen side by side.
Above him, the sky cracked with thunder. A great shadow moved behind the clouds.
A memory.
Not his.
"You weren't supposed to survive," a voice whispered beside him.
He turned.
A child stood there.
Familiar.
Not just in face—but in silence.
Wide eyes. Hollow. Quiet. Like a boy who had already stopped hoping.
---
"They made you to fail," the child said.
"But you kept going. You forgot why. That was the only way to survive."
"So tell me—are you still surviving?
>Or are you finally waking up?"
The child raised a hand.
A brand pulsed on his wrist—the same dragon-circle symbol that had appeared on Dawn's skin in the clearing.
"Show me who you are."
---
Without warning, the world cracked again.
And this time—Dawn moved.
Not just instinct. Not just training.
**A pulse of violet light surged through his limbs**—not external Qi, but internal gravity. As if something dormant had snapped back into place.
He raised his hand.
The sky screamed.
The memory shattered.
---
He stood once again on the platform, gasping.
The sphere before him now pulsed with quiet light.
Behind it, a door had appeared—etched with claw marks, sealed in blood.
A final echo whispered:
"You are not ready.
But you are already chosen."
The sphere dimmed.
The path behind him reopened—revealing the exit.
---
Dawn didn't look back.
He stepped through the mist—out of the sealed zone, out of the memory—and back into the mortal world.
---
On the other side, the others had waited.
Even Wei Feng.
The arch had stayed sealed for nearly an hour.
When it finally flickered open, every eye locked onto the figure stepping out.
Dawn said nothing.
He looked different—no wound, no mark—but something in the way the air shifted around him felt altered.
The kind of stillness that came before lightning struck.
Mei Lin stared at him quietly. Yue's hand hovered near her blade, uncertain. Zhao took a step forward, then stopped.
Only Li Heng smiled.
"Welcome back," he said softly.
"You smell like thunder."
---
Far above, in the mountain, Elder Lanyue didn't speak.
She simply stared at the symbol now etched into the floor of the viewing array.
A dragon in a broken circle.
Ancient.
Forgotten.
Now remembered.
---
**End of Chapter Ten**