THE MEMORY THIEF Chapter 3: The First Mage
THE MEMORY THIEF
Chapter 3: The First Mage
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
The First Mage stood in the center of the tomb, illuminated by trembling torchlight.
Eight hundred years dead.
Yet unmistakably alive.
The guards looked ready to flee.
The king looked ready to faint.
Only Corin remained standing.
Though barely.
Because the moment he looked into the ancient mage's silver eyes, another memory surfaced.
Not a complete memory.
A fragment.
A tower burning beneath a black sky.
Screaming.
Ash falling like snow.
And a single sentence repeated over and over:
"Do not trust the memories."
Then the vision vanished.
The First Mage studied him carefully.
"You saw it, didn't you?"
Corin nodded.
The old mage sighed.
"Then it's worse than I feared."
The king finally found his voice.
"Who are you?"
The ancient mage looked at him.
For a brief moment, pity crossed his face.
Then he answered.
"My name has been forgotten."
His gaze returned to Corin.
"Because I made sure it would be."
The statement made no sense.
How could someone erase their own name from history?
Then Corin remembered something strange.
Every Royal Mage possessed a recorded name.
Every single one.
Except the first.
History referred to him only as:
The First Mage.
No name.
No birthplace.
No family.
Nothing.
As though someone had deliberately removed every trace of his identity.
The First Mage began walking through the tomb.
His fingers brushed the empty coffins.
"The kingdom believes the Chain of Memory preserves knowledge."
His voice echoed softly through the chamber.
"But that was never its true purpose."
Corin frowned.
"What was it for?"
The old mage stopped.
For several seconds he said nothing.
Then:
"It was a prison."
The words hit harder than any spell.
A prison.
Not a library.
Not a gift.
A prison.
Corin felt his stomach tighten.
Because deep down, he already knew the answer.
He just didn't want to hear it.
"What was imprisoned?"
The First Mage looked directly into his eyes.
And whispered:
"A king."
Lightning flashed outside.
The tomb briefly illuminated in white.
Every face turned pale.
Even the king seemed confused.
"What king?"
The First Mage laughed bitterly.
"The first king."
Another fragment returned.
This one stronger.
Older.
Corin saw a city larger than any kingdom alive today.
Golden towers touching the clouds.
Dragons flying overhead.
Millions of people.
An empire.
The greatest civilization humanity had ever built.
Then he saw its ruler.
A king seated upon a throne of black stone.
Smiling.
Beautiful.
Charismatic.
Beloved.
And utterly terrifying.
The vision ended abruptly.
"The kingdom remembers him as a hero."
The First Mage's voice had grown cold.
"History remembers him as a founder."
His expression darkened.
"But history lies."
The king stepped forward.
"Who was he?"
The answer came immediately.
"The Memory Thief."
Silence.
Even the torches seemed dimmer.
Corin felt something moving inside his mind.
Not a thought.
Not a memory.
Something alive.
Watching.
Listening.
Waiting.
The sensation lasted only a second.
Yet it left him trembling.
The First Mage noticed.
Of course he did.
"He's inside you."
Corin's blood froze.
"What?"
"The thief."
The old mage's voice remained calm.
Too calm.
"As he has been inside every Royal Mage for eight hundred years."
The chamber erupted with confusion.
The king protested.
The guards exchanged frightened looks.
Corin barely heard them.
Because one horrifying realization had already formed.
If the thief existed inside every mage...
Then the Chain of Memory wasn't preserving knowledge.
It was feeding something.
The First Mage nodded.
As though reading his thoughts.
"Now you're beginning to understand."
He walked toward the center of the tomb.
Toward the oldest coffin.
Unlike the others, this one wasn't empty.
A body remained inside.
Wrapped in black cloth.
Perfectly preserved.
Waiting.
Corin stared.
The body looked familiar.
Terribly familiar.
The First Mage placed a hand upon the coffin.
"Eight hundred years ago, we defeated him."
Another memory surfaced.
The missing Night of Ashes.
Finally.
For the first time.
A complete memory.
The First Mage.
A circle of sorcerers.
A burning city.
And a king laughing while the world collapsed around him.
The Memory Thief.
Not stealing gold.
Not stealing kingdoms.
Stealing minds.
Stealing memories.
Stealing identities.
Consuming entire civilizations until nobody remembered they had ever existed.
The memory continued.
The First Mage and his allies could not kill him.
Every time he died, he survived inside memories.
Inside stories.
Inside people.
So they created the Chain.
A prison spanning centuries.
Every Royal Mage inherited a tiny fragment of him.
Keeping him divided.
Weak.
Contained.
Imprisoned.
Forever.
Or so they believed.
The vision ended.
Corin staggered backward.
Everything finally made sense.
The missing memories.
The empty tombs.
The stolen history.
The fear.
The First Mage looked older now.
Tired.
As though carrying eight centuries of failure.
"We made one mistake."
Corin already knew the answer.
The old mage nodded.
"He learned."
The torches suddenly extinguished.
Every single one.
Darkness swallowed the chamber.
The guards shouted.
Swords scraped from scabbards.
The king cursed.
Then a new voice echoed through the tomb.
Soft.
Polite.
Almost friendly.
A voice nobody recognized.
Except Corin.
Because he had heard it before.
Inside the missing memories.
Inside the gaps.
Inside himself.
The voice laughed quietly.
Then spoke.
"It took me eight hundred years."
A pause.
"But I finally remembered who I am."
Cold fear gripped the room.
The First Mage closed his eyes.
Defeated.
Because he knew exactly what that meant.
And so did Corin.
The prison had failed.
May you like
The Memory Thief was awake.
To be continued in Chapter 4: The Prison Breaks
