The Lock was buried beneath an old train station — masked by distortion, sealed by saltglass, and humming so softly it sounded like silence.
Most people passed by it without knowing.
But not Cael.
The closer they got, the more the Keymark heated, not painfully — but like something waking up under his skin.
Lira scanned the entrance with an old glyph-reader. The wall shimmered, glitched once, then faded.
Behind it: a long, spiraling tunnel that descended at an angle no architecture should follow.
"What is this place?" Cael asked.
"Lock-2's fracture bleed," she said. "Secondary containment zone. Weak enough to not kill us. Hopefully."
"Hopefully?"
"Don't die," she said. "That's my plan."
The air inside bent the light sideways.
His thoughts felt slower.
Not numb — just… less linear.
Lira lit a chemical torch and tied a guiding line around her wrist.
"Follow me exactly. One foot off the path, and you might step into memory instead of floor."
At the center of the fracture chamber was a dais, half-cracked, etched with spirals like the Keymark. Hovering inches above it: a shimmering mass of colorless force, like a wound in the air.
"That's it?" Cael whispered.
"That's a Lock resonance gate," she said. "Do not touch it."
"Then what are we here for?"
"You're going to talk to it."
The Keymark began to react — glowing slightly. No pain. Just a pull.
Cael took one step forward.
Then another.
The mass of force twitched.
A sound filtered through the room — not a voice, not words.
A thought.
AUTHORITY RECOGNIZED: [REDACTED]
PRIMARY ANCHOR REQUESTING ALIGNMENT.
"What does that mean?" he asked, voice tight.
Lira's face went pale.
"It's trying to reconnect to you."
"So do I let it?"
"That's not up to you anymore."
Cael stepped forward and placed his palm just near the Lock field — not touching, but close enough that his mark flared white.
A jolt hit him.
Memories flooded in — but they weren't his.
A boy strapped to a table.
A woman singing a coded lullaby.
Flames. Screaming.
The spiral being carved into a chest. His chest.
He stumbled back.
Lira caught him.
"You saw something."
"I think I saw… me."
"What did it feel like?"
"It didn't feel like remembering."
"Then what?"
"Like I was being remembered."
Suddenly, the Lock pulse surged. The chamber shook. And a deep, guttural voice filled the air:
THIRIAN CLASS. ANCHOR STATUS: PARTIAL. LOCKED COMMAND QUEUE INCOMPLETE.
SEQUENCE UNFINISHED.
YOU ARE STILL INSIDE.
The light slammed into Cael's chest and he collapsed.
For three full seconds, he wasn't anyone.
Then he opened his eyes.
And said — in a voice that didn't sound like his:
"Sequence input accepted. Awaiting user override."
Lira backed up.
"Cael?"
He blinked. Shook his head.
"What just—"
"You became the key interface," she said.
"And whatever it is… just gave you access."
Behind them, the Lock chamber began to pulse again.
Not angry.
Not welcoming.
Just ready.
And on a distant ridge, Solin turned away from his tracker screen and whispered:
"He just aligned."
"He's opened the Lock… and now the Lock is opening him."
End of Chapter 8: When the Lock Opens Back