“A new name?” Pierre scoffed. “What the fuck for?”


    Andora’s voice cut through the room, steady and sharp. “Your names hold power,” she said. “Here in Mysteria, they are more than just words—they are the essence of who you are. Your name binds you to your magic, your very essence."


    “Like a password to our souls?” Zeke asked, half-joking.


    “More than that,” Andora replied. “Your True Name is your identity in its purest form. If an enemy learns it, they can wield it against you—weaken you, command you . . . or worse." Her eyes hardened.”


    “True Name?” Cassandra echoed curiously, her voice quieter than usual.


    Andora knelt by the fire, stirring the embers with an iron poker. Sparks danced upward, curling like fireflies.


    “A True Name isn’t just something you’re called—like I said, it’s the core of your being,” she explained. “It’s woven from your thoughts, your memories, your soul itself. Knowing a True Name isn’t the same as hearing it—it’s understanding everything that makes that being who they are. Their strengths, their weaknesses, their deepest fears.”


    “Then why haven’t our names done anything?” Pierre asked. “If our names are so powerful, why aren’t we exploding every time someone says them?”


    Andora’s gaze sharpened. “Because your True Names may not be the names you’ve been using,” she said. “Most Mysterians are given their True Names at birth—names that connect them to the magic of this world. But you . . . ” Her eyes swept over us. “You’re different. You didn’t begin in Mysteria—your essence doesn’t belong to this world’s magic. Your True Names might be something else entirely.”


    I felt a cold knot tighten in my chest.


    “You mean,” Viktor said slowly, “our True Names are . . . our Earth names?”


    “It’s possible,” Andora said. “Because your greatest truth—your core identity—is not that you are Mysterians. It’s that you are not Mysterians.”


    She paused, her expression grim. “That’s what makes you vulnerable. If your enemies uncover your True Names, they won’t just command your magic—they could unravel everything that holds you together in this world.”


    I never imagined my name could be dangerous.


    Pierre scoffed. “We’ve been calling each other by name this whole time, and nothing’s happened.” He gestured lazily at Zeke. “Czak has called him Zechairah a dozen times. No lightning, no earthquakes—no magic.”


    A small smile tugged at the corner of Andora’s mouth. “Has the Pharaoh of the Skies ever spoken the King of Fire’s full name with intent?”


    Pierre opened his mouth to argue—then paused.


    I never did. Not when we got here in Mysteria, no.


    The truth sank in like cold water. I hadn’t spoken my full name—Czak Alastar Luna—since arriving in Mysteria. Zeke was always Zeke. Pierre was just Pierre. Even Amethyst’s twin sister called her Amy.


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    “True Names,” Andora continued, “are only invoked when spoken with purpose—with intent to command or control. If one of your enemies learns your True Name and calls it with the right words . . . ” She paused. “They won’t just know you. They’ll own you.”


    I swallowed hard. Suddenly, my name didn’t feel like mine anymore—just a blade someone could wield if they knew how.


    “So what about you?” Viktor’s voice was low. “Andora’s your True Name?”


    She shook her head. “No.”


    The room went still.


    “My True Name is my own,” Andora said firmly. “I kept it a secret many centuries ago. The name Andora is the one I chose.”


    “Why?” Gabrielle asked.


    Andora’s gaze softened. “Because names shape destiny. Andora means ‘Guardian of Knowledge’ in our language. It is both a title . . . and a warning.”


    For a moment, I wondered what her real name had been—and what might happen if she speaks it in front of us.


    “Those who’ve crossed your path—Ishthar, Marik, Iago, and even Marduk,” Andora’s eyes darkened. “None of those are True Names. Some Mysterians create new names to hide behind. Others are given new names—names that bind them to a path they can’t escape.”


    “Like a prophecy?” Sakura asked.


    “Sometimes,” Andora said. “But not always. For those who carry great responsibility—or great danger—a Naming Ritual is performed. These names become . . . armor. A shield against those who would use your True Name against you.”


    “So this is why we need our new names?” Cassandra asked.


    “Yes,” Andora said. “Not to replace your True Names—but to protect them.”


    I raised my hand, despite not being needed. “How are we getting our new names? Are we going to choose it ourselves?”


    Andora shook her head, “No.” She gestured for us to follow her as she walked across the chamber. “You go through a naming ritual, like the ones before who held your mantles.”


    “What happens during the ritual?” I asked.


    Andora’s gaze found mine, sharp and knowing. “It reveals more than a name.”


    She stepped forward, hands clasped before her. “The Naming Ritual draws from your soul—your strengths, your fears, your future. The name you are given will be yours to carry . . . but it may also carry a burden. A destiny. Perhaps even a curse.”


    I shook my head, “No, I meant,” I started, “what happens during the ritual? Are we going to be submerged in water? Will we walk through fire? Do we have to eat anything while reciting an oath?”


    Silence stretched between us.


    “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Andora’s laughter broke that stretched silence. “Honey, no. It’s simpler than that.”


    I felt embarrassed by that uncalled-for laughter, but I just shrugged it off. “So what exactly?”


    “Follow me,” she answered as we walk outside the chamber toward the hallway of the fortress. “We will head to the naming chamber,” she started her explanation. “There, there will be an altar, where you’ll hold the Tablet of Assendance and Revalation. The Tablet will give you your name.”


    “And we can do it now?” Sakura asked, quite eager about the notion of getting a new name in this new world.


    “Why, yes,” Andora answered nonchalantly. “Like I said, it’s a simple ritual. No spells, no incantations, no sacrifices or offerings, no weird eating.” She said, giving me a sly smile.


    “What if we refuse?” Zeke’s voice was quiet, almost cautious.


    Andora’s smile was faint, almost sad. “Then you’ll face Mysteria without protection. And sooner or later, someone will find your True Name.”


    Her words hung heavy in the air.


    We didn’t speak for a bit after that while we walked to the Naming Chamber. Some of us stared at the walls, others at the floor or the ceiling.


    I couldn’t stop turning it over in my head. My name—Czak Alastar Luna—wasn’t just something I answered to. It was me—my thoughts, my magic, my soul. If someone learned it and spoke it with purpose . . .


    I didn’t know what would happen.


    Andora’s warning echoed in my mind: “A name shapes destiny.”


    I wondered what name fate had waiting for me.