The Vault sealed behind them without sound, the silver lattice folding inward like a mouth closing over a secret. Kael stood just beyond the threshold, the crystal dust still clinging to his sleeves, his breath fogging slightly in the chill.
He was not the same boy who had descended.
Beside him, Lira walked in silence, one hand lightly touching the wall for balance. She hadn't spoken since Kael's collapse, and he hadn't pressed her. The air between them was thick with everything left unsaid.
When they reached the corridor where they'd entered, Corren was gone.
Kael slowed. "He was supposed to wait here."
Lira scanned the shadows. "Corren doesn't wander without a reason."
Before either could speak again, the air thickened.
Not with sound. Not with light.
With presence.
A voice—clear, slow, and terrifying in its calm—rippled through the stone itself.
"Rin."
Kael stiffened. Lira reached instinctively for the glyphs at her belt.
Then, before them, a figure took shape—not walked in, not approached, but formed, piece by piece, out of the light that pooled on the floor.
Tall. Regal. Clad in dark robes stitched with threads of memory light. His face was perfectly symmetrical, his skin pale, his hair a shimmering silver that moved slightly, as if underwater. His eyes were entirely colorless—mirror-flat.
Archon Selvere.
Kael felt his name like a key in a lock.
The projection smiled faintly.
"I have waited long enough for you to return."
Lira stepped between them. "You're not real."
"Real enough," Selvere replied. His voice echoed in the chambers of Kael's skull. "This image is woven from your memory of me. Enhanced. Intact."
Kael's fingers curled. "Why are you here?"
"To offer peace."
Selvere took a step forward, though his feet made no sound. "You've seen what lies beneath your name. What your old self carried. The knowledge that broke balance."
Kael didn't answer.
Selvere's voice lowered slightly, almost kind.
"I offer you freedom from it. The burden. The war. The choices. Give me the shard. I will reseal it. You will sleep in memory and wake free."
Kael stared at him, something cold rising in his throat.
"And what would you do with the truth?"
Selvere tilted his head. "Guard it. As I always have."
The air in the corridor trembled, not with power—but with implication.
Kael felt the old parts of himself stir. Not just memory.
Authority.
He didn't move.
But something in him had begun to decide.