Eryndor's eyes locked onto Arcturus, his mind racing with questions. "What do you mean I'm not who I think I am?" he demanded, his voice firm.
Arcturus chuckled, the sound echoing through the Black Spire. "You're a creation, Eryndor. A creation of the ancient ones. Your memories, your powers, everything about you is a carefully crafted illusion."
The words hit Eryndor like a tidal wave, his mind reeling with the implications. He thought back to his past, his memories, his relationships. Was it all a lie?
"What about my friends?" Eryndor asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Are they part of the illusion, too?"
Arcturus's smile grew wider. "Ah, your friends. They're real, Eryndor. But they don't know the truth about you. And soon, neither will you."
Eryndor's eyes narrowed, determi
