The Vault trembled beneath Zara's feet, the weight of its existence pressing against her ribs like hands clawing from beneath the surface. The fractured mark on her arm burned, veins threading ink through her skin, linking her pulse to the rhythm of the throne itself.
The Hollow Sovereign had not moved.
He stood like a shadow stitched into reality, his silver-rimmed gaze locked on her, waiting—expectant.
Noel was tense behind her, his stance rigid, his breath measured. He had not spoken since the throne reacted to Zara's touch, but she could feel his warning woven into the silence.
She had undone something.
And now, there was no stopping it.
The throne pulsed again.
Not with light.
Not with energy.
With memory.
Zara sucked in a breath as the world around her twisted—an unraveling of time itself, folding inward, stitching together fractured images from the depths of Aeroth's forgotten past.
Blood on stone.
Voices humming in unison.
Figures kneeling before the throne, their lips moving in silent devotion.
And at the center—
Her mother.
No. Not her.
The Sovereign before him.
The first one to fall before the Gate was sealed.
Zara staggered, gripping the edge of the throne as her vision blurred.
She knew what this was.
Not a vision.
A truth.
The Hollow Sovereign exhaled slowly, his presence shifting, flickering, pressing closer. "Do you understand now?"
Zara clenched her fists. "You sealed it."
The Vault responded to her words, the glyphs shimmering like fire against the broken stone.
The Sovereign tilted his head. "We tried."
Tried.
Not succeeded.
Zara swallowed.
Noel moved closer, voice sharp. "Zara, focus. Whatever this is, it wants something from you."
She knew.
The Vault wanted more than just her presence.
It wanted her decision.
The Hollow Sovereign extended his hand toward the throne. "You must finish it."
Zara did not speak.
She could feel it—the weight of his words pressing against the fractures of Aeroth's buried past, threading through her breath like strings pulled from a forgotten melody.
Noel's voice was lower now, urgent. "Zara, don't do anything reckless."
She steadied herself.
She didn't have a choice anymore.
The Vault had already decided.
She stepped forward.
The throne pulsed again.
And Aeroth screamed.
***
The Vault's scream did not fade. It echoed through the chamber, threading itself into the ancient glyphs pulsing beneath Zara's feet. She could feel the weight of each fractured symbol shifting, their presence pressing against her mind like unseen hands reaching from the abyss.
The Hollow Sovereign did not move.
Noel was beside her, breath sharp, stance unwavering. "Zara. Step back."
She knew what he was trying to do—trying to stop her from walking deeper, from sinking further into the truth Aeroth had tried to erase. But it was too late for that.
She wasn't trapped.
She was chosen.
The throne pulsed, its presence too strong to ignore, too deeply ingrained in her veins now. Every breath she took was lined with its echo, every movement she made stitched into its rhythm.
She stepped forward.
The Vault responded.
The glyphs burned brighter—red and gold, symbols twisting into new patterns, weaving a language she had never learned but somehow understood.
Noel cursed under his breath, shifting his grip on his blades. "Whatever you're feeling—fight it."
She clenched her fists. "I'm not fighting it. I'm listening."
The Hollow Sovereign smiled.
"You are waking," he murmured, voice smooth as silk laced with iron. "And you will remember soon."
Zara swallowed, her pulse tightening, but she did not step back.
She felt it.
The unraveling.
Her body wasn't just standing in the Vault anymore—it was merging with it.
The throne whispered.
Not in words.
Not in sound.
In sensation.
She saw flashes of Aeroth before it was Aeroth. Before the Circle carved its rewritten truths into the city's bones. Before the Hollowed were left wandering its ruins.
She saw the first Sovereign kneeling before this very throne, his hands bloody, his voice raw from screaming.
She saw her mother standing beside him, her mark burning into her skin, her eyes filled with something Zara did not yet understand.
She saw the moment the Gate was first sealed.
And she saw the cost.
A name rang through her mind—a title that did not belong to her.
Yet somehow, it did.
The Hollow Queen.
Her lungs tightened.
Noel's voice was sharper now, a thin thread of urgency woven into each word. "Zara. Whatever you saw—whatever is happening—you need to stop."
She wasn't sure she could.
The Vault had already claimed her.
The Hollow Sovereign tilted his head slightly, watching her with something between approval and expectation. "You will take the throne soon."
Zara clenched her jaw.
No.
She would take the truth.
But she would decide what to do with it.
She stepped back, breath unsteady, body trembling under the weight of memory threading itself into her bones.
The glyphs flickered.
The Vault held its breath.
And for the first time—
The Hollow Sovereign looked amused.
"You think you can resist it," he murmured. "But you have already begun."
Noel grabbed her wrist, pulling her sharply away from the throne. "We're leaving."
Zara's mind spun.
No.
Not yet.
There was more she needed to see.
The Vault whispered again, its presence pressing against her like unseen fingers curling around her throat.
The Hollow Sovereign stepped toward her.
The fractured symbols shifted.
And something beneath Aeroth stirred.
Something waiting.
Something that was not done with her yet.