The Vault was no longer blinking, but it hummed.
Not ominously. Not soothingly. It was more like a gentle, ever-present question, vibrating beneath their feet.
"Anyone else feel like the walls are trying to speak Morse code?" Fenn asked, tapping the floor with her spoon.
"That's resonance," Pennrick murmured, eyes half-lidded in deep thought. "Your new lattice is broadcasting. Not far yet, but enough to be noticed."
"By whom?" Eloryn asked.
The answer came not in words, but in footsteps.
A slow, deliberate tap… tap… tap from the Vault's upper walkways. Fenn's spoon clattered to the ground as everyone turned toward the echoing noise.
Out of the silver-lit stairwell emerged a figure in a tattered cloak, face obscured by an ornate bronze mask shaped like a fox. Not a memory. Not a thread.
Someone real.
Pennrick froze. "That's impossible."
The figure spoke, voice smooth, laced with dry amusement. "Hello, Oracle. I believe I was… invited."
Eloryn stiffened. "I didn't open the gate."
"You didn't have to," the figure replied, stepping forward. "Your dream called out. And some of us still listen."
"Who are you?" Maren demanded.
The figure slowly removed the mask.
A young man, early twenties, silver eyes like shattered stars, and a strange, crescent-shaped burn over one cheek. He looked human—almost painfully so—but something behind his gaze shimmered with memory.
"I'm Lys," he said. "A Remnant. One of the Dreamt-That-Were."
Pennrick paled. "A memory that survived being forgotten."
Eloryn stared, unsure whether to feel fear or awe.
Lys smiled faintly. "Your new weave… it woke me. I remember you, Eloryn. Not from a past life. From a life you never had."
Fenn raised her hand. "Okay, that's really creepy. And also kind of awesome?"
Lys's gaze never left Eloryn. "You've rewritten the Vault, yes. But you've also rewritten possibility. That makes you powerful. And dangerous. There are others like me—more stable echoes, fragments of futures that never unfolded."
"You're saying I made you real?" Eloryn whispered.
"In a way," he said. "Or at least… real enough to find you."
Maren stepped closer, wary. "What do you want?"
Lys looked to Eloryn. "I want to help you. Before the others do."
"What others?"
He didn't smile this time.
"The ones who remember what you're becoming. And want to unmake it."
*****************