Ti passed, and Yur found himself coming back to the sa point over and over again.
I am forgetting sothing. What is it?
The constant reversal, though startling in the beginning, was gradually fading from his mory.
The sa scene, the sa beginning, the sa whipping—the sa... everything!
I need to make sure I don’t forget!
Distress was overwhelming him, for he could not recall many things.
It was as if whenever he tried to rember, sothing blurred his recollections.
There was a curtain in his mind that he couldn’t part; it was too heavy to move, too thick to see through. Yet, he knew there was sothing on the other side.
"Hey! What are you doing?!"
It was the sa shout he had heard hundreds of tis. Turning his head, he knew exactly where the whip would land, from where it would co.
He sidestepped slightly—though his movents were slow—barely managing to dodge it.
He fell to the ground and attempted to roll over.
"You little!" A new exclamation, a fresh phrase—finally, sothing different!
Turning his head, he looked back at the guard. The glare in the guard’s eyes was as fierce as the suns.
Raising his arm once more, the whip descended with horrifying speed, and in its swift strike, a long, deep laceration opened across his stomach.
"Ah!" The pain was acute, yet the blunt impact felt even worse.
Everything in his emaciated stomach was forced out: saliva, vomit, and blood.
"Stop!" A shout echoed from afar, but the cry achieved nothing.
The whip rained down relentlessly, and Yur was gripped by terror.
Like a macabre symphony, the sound of the whip’s lash and the youthful screams lded into a chilling rhythm.
"STOP!" the voice shouted once more, and the guard, distracted by both annoyance and a perverse enjoynt in beating the child, was suddenly tackled to the ground.
"What the—" he mumbled as he tumbled on the ground before rolling down the hill with his frail body clinging on.
It was Sunder—Yur’s father.
"You’re going to kill my son!" Sunder shouted, quickly scrambling to his feet as he seized the whip.
He clenched his fist tightly around the handle and raised it high. "I’ll kill you first!"
With seething anger etched on his face, he lashed the whip down with every ounce of strength his slender fra could muster.
"You lowly slave!" the guard shrieked in fury as the whip crashed onto his chest, ripping through his clothes.
Raising his forearms, he attempted to catch the whip, but the searing pain stung and forced his arms back. In that instant, the whip, driven by powerful montum, struck his face.
"AH!" the guard scread as a deep gash tore across his face.
Yet, nothing could stop Sunder.
Even the guards who were rushing over were too distant to intervene.
Over and over, Sunder aid for the guard’s face. Even when the screams faded and the struggle seed to pause, he did not relent.
Splashes of red stained his body and face, yet he pressed on.
Relief montarily flickered across his features.
Yur, struggling to sit up, looked downward, watching his father beat the lifeless body.
Shock and sudden enlightennt played across his face.
So, freedom is possible? Is it possible to fight back?
Suddenly, three guards tackled Sunder to the ground. They pinned him down and beat him until he fainted.
Yur observed it all, yet at the sa ti, he wasn’t truly watching the scene; his mind was elsewhere, consud by inner distraction.
That’s right! This is a test!
mories began to flood his mind slowly.
"They will drag him away, and tomorrow will be the last ti I see him."
He rembered that mory; sothing he thought he had lost, or rather, that he should have forgotten.
A fragnt of his mind that he had once sacrificed—a person he had cast aside for the sake of sothing more powerful—yet here he was, seeing him once again.
Now, what is this test?
Trying to discern what was happening, he rubbed his chin. The pain was gradually subsiding, and even the world around him was beginning to blur.
What is my na? Yur... Yur...
He tried to recall an essential detail, sothing he felt was crucial, it was on the tip of his tongue.
Yur... Ashkavaal!
In that very mont, like a crashing wave, the world suddenly washed away.
He found himself enveloped in darkness once again.
A True Seeker!
A voice—one familiar, one he had heard before everything went awry—echoed in the void.
"Who are you?" Yur called out. Though he could see nothing, he was certain he was back in his own body; back from the past, or its illusion.
A True Seeker!
It repeated its refrain, and Yur could also discern the faint sound of approaching footsteps.
They were drawing nearer.
His body tensed, bracing for whatever might approach.
A True Seeker!
The voice grew louder.
It drew ever nearer.
Yur waited. The steps were unlike those of a person, they resembled the rhythmic clatter of hooves on the ground.
They were powerful and resonant.
And finally—
"A True Seeker!"
There it was, in front of him.
A being, a creature so magnificent and beautiful that even Yur was taken aback.
Resembling a horse, its fur was pure white like snow, and it exuded a glow that dispelled the darkness.
Its eyes were a striking blue, as bright as jewels. It stood tall, towering over Yur, its head adorned with elegant horns and a singular crown.
"True Seeker," the creature repeated. "I am Eilaphor, Warden of the Forgotten Constellations."
Its voice exuded majesty and power, yet Yur was filled with horror. He could sense its imnse power, sothing beyond mortal comprehension. Akin to Demon Lord Krinli, its might was both terrible and divine.
"As the successor of the Eyes of Lingering Glyphs, you are a seeker, a True Seeker."
"What is that?" Yur hesitated before speaking; he had heard this term many tis, yet it continued to confound him.
Eilaphor turned its head, gazing into the blackness. "A True Seeker; a contender for Glythoria. One who is at one with the Glythari, cherished by the beloved." Then, turning to Yur, it declared, "True Seeker; that is the title bestowed upon those who battle for the essence of Glythoria."
"The essence of Glythoria?" Yur asked in bewildernt.
"True Seeker, remain steadfast in your desires. Forget not yourself nor what you are," the being spoke cryptically. "We shall et again, but for now, having passed the first test of the True Seekers, I shall bestow upon you a gift."
Suddenly, a burst of white light erupted from it, enveloping Yur in its splendour.
He felt a burning sensation across his body, and looking down through the bright light, he saw a star-rune-like tattoo materialize on his skin.
Star-Eclipsed Brand.
He heard a voice whisper the na into his ears.
Yet, the mont the light vanished, Yur disappeared with it, leaving Eilaphor alone in the darkness.
It stared at the spot where Yur had once been, whispering to itself in a voice laced with lancholy, "Only the True Seeker walks willingly into the dead sky and begs it to speak again."
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