The secret chamber offered them refuge from the churning storm—the glints of the pendant their constant reminder of the havoc happening above. Its walls were uneven and damp, sweated with condensation that glistened faintly in the light. Cracks ran like veins through the stone, whispering of age and pressure.
The air was stale, heavy with the scent of archives, earthy musk and burning gas. Mira and Finn were chattering, catching up about the prior events while Elias was opening up scrolls and scanning papers.
"How did you carry all these!" Mira hollered, tousling Finn's hair as he showed her the emergency kit he grabbed on his way down—included inside were some journals and notes Mira kept.
"I didn't know which ones were important—I was in a hurry." Finn explained as he handed them over to her.
"It's okay. We have plenty here." She patted him on the shoulder, taking a sweater from the bag. "We'll take care of your scrapes in a minute."
She walked over to Elias, who was busy in a corner—fingers darting from one brittle page to the next, flipping tomes open, dragging maps closer, comparing symbols.
Every piece he deemed useful was pressed to the growing pile on his right with a sharp slap—those that weren't were shoved left with impatient flicks, some skidding to the floor. Papers covered the desk like scattered feathers beside the chest, his system of chaos somehow taking shape.
"You didn't get to change your clothes." Mira said she handed him the sweater.
"I'm sorry…" he started, unable to meet her eyes, his voice thick with a frustration that he couldn't quite push aside. "It's not that I didn't want to keep my promise but every time something goes wrong, I think… maybe I made the wrong call. And it makes me look like I don't care about any of this—about Astheria."
"It's not that, Elias. It's just… sometimes, we just wish you'd leap with us." Mira sighed, her voice hushed.
"I can't, Mir. You and Finn can afford to leap. But I can't. You two chase stars while I… I have to make sure we don't fall." Elias swallowed hard, feeling the sting of his own words settle deep in his chest, as if trying to accept something he's been denying.
Mira didn't answer but gently placed a hand on his arm, taking in the way his shoulders were tense, trying to read the layers of meaning in his words.
"Every decision I make has to account for what I can't bear to lose. I think ten steps ahead and still... I never feel in control. Just, one more step away from failing you two," he continued, his sharp exhale carrying the weight of his exhausted voice. "I have to make a choice, Mir—and that will always be keeping you and Finn safe, even if it looks like I'm being a coward, even if I'll have to take two steps back."
"You're not a coward, Eli—no. You're just carrying too much alone." Mira said, her voice a quiet mixture of understanding and hurt, fingers absently flipping through the pages of a journal.
She paused, letting the words hang in the air, and for a second, it felt like the entire room had paused with them. She didn't ask for the weight he carried—the responsibility that had been forced upon him when their parents left and now, their grandfather.
"I know you feel like you have to protect us all the time… but it's becoming too much, sometimes," she added, her voice steady, though there was a hint of something fragile in it. "We can take care of ourselves too, you know. But I have to admit, your need to protect us—that's the reason we've come this far."
"That's because I don't know how to be anything else, Mir." Elias smiled bitterly as he kept working, as if it offered an escape.
"I don't even know how we got here. We were just trying to figure out why the aetherglass glows and now, we're running after a world we only thought of as a mere fantasy—well, Finn and I thought. But even if I'm not cut out for this, I can't let anything happen to either of you, I won't—"
The chest trembled slightly, causing some papers to fall, cutting Elias off. One of the runes along its lid flared briefly—then died back down, as if tasting something almost familiar.
The siblings were stunned, unable to move for a bit, then instantly gathered around it.
Mira's eyes narrowed, leaning closer, scrutinizing the rune as her fingertips hovered just over it, studying the symbol. "This rune... it mirrors the constellation I saw earlier. But this one's inverted. It's kinda rotated on a strange axis... like it's locked in place."
She hastily pulled out the compass stuffed in her pocket, then back to the chest—only for her to groan in confusion. "But what does it mean!"
"Wait—Elias, do that again." Finn chimed in, inspecting the chest closer.
Elias' stomach twisted, a surge of disbelief and awe washing over him. "Do what? I didn't do anything—"
"What were you saying—thinking? Think about it again." Finn clicked his tongue, tetchy.
"You've got to be kid—I, I can't possibly awaken those runes. I'm not like you who's attuned to aetherglass." He rambled, trying to collect himself.
Finn eyed him, his look impatient and upset while Mira was full of anticipation.
Elias sighed softly, "I wasn't thinking about anything... I was only thinking about keeping both of you safe."
As he said it, the rune flickered again, steadily. It was not a blaze—but a response, like gears finally aligning after being jammed for centuries.
An acknowledgment.
Elias blinked. He didn't expect a reaction. "That doesn't make sense, Pops' journal—"
"Those were just speculations he wasn't able to test. Pops wasn't able to get this far…" Mira interrupted, digging through the pile Elias made, deep in thought. "Or… maybe not this way."
"But I'm not feeling any pull—or anything at all. I was just thinking about doing what I have to do."
The rune pulsed brighter this time like it had waited—not for the boldest heart, but the clearest.
Then, like a clockwork lock clicking open, the chest hissed softly and shifted, unlatching with a quiet breath of air as the rune folded into itself like mist.
The lid creaked open, its top unfolding slowly like a blooming flower. Inside laid an unassuming black bracelet—threaded beads of onyx, bounded by silver strands that shimmered with something more than light.
"Eh—That's it? A bracelet?" Finn exclaimed in disappointment, his voice apathetic. "I thought it would be something bigger…"
"Not just a bracelet," Mira said, happily smiling, offering it to Elias. "I think... it's meant for you."
Elias blinked once again. "Why me?"
"Because you're the 'attuned presence', dummy." Finn said matter-of-factly, quoting with his fingers as he walked away.
Elias slowly took it, breath caught. The silver strands pulsed with a faint glow, contrasting perfectly with the matte onyx beads. As it touched his palm, a subtle warmth pulsed through him—not dramatic or overwhelming, but grounding. Steadying.
A quiet connection.
A sense of being anchored.
"Change first then we'll eat." Mira said, snapping his thoughts. "I'll go and take care of Finn's scratches."
Elias sighed and put the bracelet down, arms folded, brows low. For a little while, he pondered if he was even worthy of it—to be part of the dream his siblings were following, the dream he'd only watched from the sideways, the dream that was too real, too vivid—afraid he'd wake up only to find it wasn't his to have.
He stared at it for a bit longer as though it were a question he didn't want to answer, before turning away to change his clothes. He couldn't help but feel like an intruder in a world that wasn't meant for someone like him.
Mira and Finn were already waiting for him after he was done, sitting legs crossed on the stone floor, each covered in emergency blankets.
"Take a seat already, princess. I'm starving." Finn said, irritated but not looking at him.
"Finn." Mira warned, her eyes squinting. "And the bracelet, Eli?"
"I left it on the desk." Elias replied, pulling the cuff down—the sweater a bit too small for him.
Mira didn't press further, handing him canned meat and an emergency blanket. "So Finn… I heard you got scared earlier in the lighthouse."
Finn was taken aback but quickly relaxed, eyes shooting daggers at Elias, who was settling down. "It's… nothing."
"Uh-huh." Mira hummed, unconvinced. "And here I thought you were the fearless Finn."
"Fine. I thought I saw… something in the storm." Finn mumbled as he sighed, his voice low, mixing his food idly as if he'd find answers in it.
"Was it the same one you thought you saw in Pops' study?" Elias butt in, signalling Mira with his eyes to press on.
"I'm not talking to you." Finn rolled his eyes at him, his voice evidently mad, spork clanging loudly inside the can.
Elias and Mira looked at each other as he sighed again loudly.
"I've never seen something more terrifying in my life, it was like a monster—no, much scarier. Way, way scarier than any monster."
Finn was never the type to get scared easily, for a twelve-year-old. Even younger, he moved with the swagger of someone who had never learned fear—too young to know caution, too bold to care. Danger didn't intimidate him; it thrilled him—called to him like a dare whispered in the wind.
"But, I realized I'm much stronger than any monster," he continued, shrugging his shoulders like it never bothered him, his energy back to 'normal'. "So whatever it was, it should run 'cause it's got nowhere to hide."
"Well, I saw something terrifying in the lighthouse, too." Mira said, finishing her canned food. "The Invocation Passage."
"And what's that?" Elias asked, opening another can, feeling Finn's sharp looks towards him.
"It was the final entry in Pops' journal, dated a day before he disappeared." Mira replied, her thoughts distant, eyes fixated on the floor as if searching for something. "It doesn't make sense—it was celestial runes, not aetherglyphs. Even more so, it was the runes on the compass that glowed, not the ones on the stone."
"It didn't match anything from his previous books or notes, it wasn't from any manuscript or relics he had either, it was like… it came out of nowhere. Pops would've no way of knowing it unless—unless…"
"Unless the celestial runes glowed for him. Unless Pops discovered it himself." Elias took the words right out of her mouth.
"But they didn't glow for him, did they?" Finn asked, just as confused as they were. "Even for us—not before Mira deciphered the aetherglyphs."
Silence lingered in the air—oppressively so—except for their uneven breathing and rustling of the blankets.
It seemed like the closer they were towards the truth, the more questions popped up than there were answers.
"Do you think Pops could've unlocked it, somehow?" Finn gasped, his heart beating with hope.
"That's what I thought, too." Mira said quietly, thoughts racing, chest heaving. "But how?"
Elias stood, hugging the blanket closer to his body with growing dread. "Only one way to find out."
Dust motes danced in the golden beam of the lantern, floating like sparks above the scattered papers that littered everywhere like fallen leaves. Books laid open across the floor, the soft rustle of pages flipping filled the air as they continued where Elias left off.
Mira sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a loose circle of charts, old parchments, and tattered sketches that Elias piled up earlier. Her fingers traced overlapping diagrams of constellations and strange annotations, reading them one by one, skimming lines, scribbling notes, matching symbols from one scroll to the next.
Elias crouched low beside the cobwebbed stone shelf, meticulously checking a crumbling stack of journals, the brittle spines nearly disintegrating in his hands. He frowned, eyes narrowing at a series of notes their grandfather had scrawled in quick, rough script, scanning which ones were helpful.
Finn had taken a break, pacing along the back wall, bored to the core with the lack of action. "Why hide all this?" he asked, almost to himself. "Why bury something this important?"
Elias straightened and blew gently across the page he held. "Maybe because Pops wasn't sure what he was chasing. Or maybe… he was afraid someone else might find it first."
There was a pause. Mira looked up at him. "Do you really think Pops somehow got this far? Do you think he… found Astheria?"
Elias hesitated. His jaw tightened. "I don't know… He left too many gaps. But maybe—just maybe—he left them for us to finish."
The night deepened into its slumber as the siblings continued to carefully sift through the delicate papers, studying them, figuring them out like an impossible riddle.
The glow of the lantern flickered, but no one noticed how faint they had grown. Its flames sputtered and hissed quietly, casting dull shadows that slithered across the floor. Outside, the sky had shifted to a deep indigo, unnoticed—the world above might as well have stopped spinning.
Mira sat by the dim lantern light, back aching from hunching over too much. The black-beaded bracelet laid out in front of her on a spread cloth, beside countless journals.
On the far end of the chamber, Elias tossed and turned near the stairs while Finn was curled up under the silvery blanket, the pendant clutched loosely in his hand.
She rotated the bracelet gently, watching the way the starlit thread shimmered when it passed through her fingers. Not metal. Not glass. Not anything she'd ever studied.
A note tucked between the pages of a journal caught her eye—one she hadn't noticed earlier.
…Celestial Runes do not speak as Aetherglyphs do. They resonate—few are read, most are felt…
…Only those with resonance may unlock them—all of them. I have studied these runes for years—dreamt of them countlessly… and still, they remain sealed.
…Perhaps I was never meant to open them.
….Perhaps it will be them who choose.
Her fingers trembled as she looked back at the chest, lid now closed, its runes still gleaming with light.
"Resonance…" she whispered.
Elias didn't have to touch the chest but it opened. The same way the aetherglass had glowed for Finn.
Not because they understood it. But because it recognized them.
"So… Aetherglyphs can be learned—studied. But Celestial Runes…"
Mira reached for the compass, gently lifting it from the floor. It flickered in her palm, runes shifting like being woken up. Her thoughts spiraled.
"…they attune, harmonize. Resonate."
"Still burning the midnight oil, even here?" Elias joked from behind, picking up a journal from the clutter.
Mira chuckled, handing him snacks she's been munching. "I can't sleep. There's so much to unpack with so little time."
"Yeah. Tell me about it. I'm still processing how all of this is real." Elias said, half-smiling as he sat across her, leaning against the cool stone wall.
"So, I was looking for theories to understand how the runes and constellations are connected to each other. But look what I've found instead." She gave the slip of paper to Elias, brushing her hands clean.
It was far too pristine to belong—its crisp edges and untouched ink a quiet defiance against the timeworn parchments surrounding it.
"Maybe Pops wasn't able to unlock the aetherglass in the first place because he was looking with only knowledge. Not feeling."
"Feeling…" Elias muttered, eyes focused on the piece of paper. "I still don't understand how I could've resonated with a rune."
"Maybe it's not feelings alone," Mira reached out, fingertips brushing the jet black beads, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I think that aetherglyphs are like a simplified reflection of the runes. So while aetherglyphs unlock understanding, celestial runes unlock… connection. But this is simply my speculation."
Silence fell.
Mira looked at the compass, and for the first time, understood the distinction this way.
Aetherglyphs were knowledge. Celestial Runes were memories. Emotion. Will.
"Hey, about earlier… I just want you to know that you don't have to carry it all." Mira hemmed, breaking the stillness. "I know you want to fix everything, to keep everyone safe—but some things aren't yours to control, Eli, and that's okay. Trust that we'll face whatever comes, together—all three of us."
She offered him the bracelet—each black bead shimmering with faint iridescence like oil catching light, like giving him a seat at a table where he doesn't belong.
"I… I don't know if I should have that, Mir. Everything about Astheria sings to believers and dreamers—like you and Finn." Elias hesitated, huffing softly. "But me? I solve problems. I carry the weight when no one else can. That's it."
His jaw tensed. The words struck something deep. A part of him he never voiced—the fear that his role was always in the shadows, holding the world up while others flew.
"Maybe it's not about being a dreamer, Eli. Maybe it's about being someone who carries the storm when the sky turns dark." Mira declared, her voice firm and full of resolve. "I believe that's why the rune resonated with you."
He remained quiet, glancing at the bracelet, thoughts distant as he was reminded by their grandfather's voice, calm but firm, guiding him through the steps of a broken fan repair.
'Steady hands make sense of chaos, Elias. Not because they control it, but because they know when not to flinch.'
He wasn't like Mira—guided by feeling. He wasn't like Finn—driven by wonder.
But he remembered.
He remembered the weight of their grandfather's hand on his shoulder, the quiet confidence in being the one who could keep things from falling apart. Not with magic. But with steadiness.
Because he refused to let the world collapse on the people he loved.
He reached for the bracelet slowly, like it might break in his hands. And for a moment, Elias heard it.
Not a whisper. Not a song.
But a weight—like something ancient had recognized the burden he bore. Like a heartbeat recognizing another.
"I'm not the dreamer. I'm the anchor." He said quietly as he slid the bracelet onto his wrist. It tightened slightly, fitting perfectly.
Mira smiled, her eyes glistening. "That's always been you."
And for the first time, Elias didn't feel like an intruder. He felt seen.
And above, the stars moved for them, just slightly. As though the sky remembered its purpose.