Chapter 31
The Thirteenth Archive was not a place.
It was a wound in the world.
A spiral staircase made of cracked glass and woven bone led them downward through a corridor that seemed to rotate around them with every step. Above, Aethrakar had vanished — replaced by an infinite ceiling of faded constellations, each flickering like the memory of a star that never existed.
Nezutsu descended first, his hand trailing along the stair's rail — though sometimes it was metal, sometimes vein, and once, unmistakably, spine.
Behind him, Asphor walked silently, the silver flame still flickering in his palm like a heartbeat.
Velgrim came last, keeping a watchful eye. The warrior hadn't spoken since Kaelith's transformation. His silence said more than any warning ever could.
"We shouldn't be here," Velgrim finally muttered."The Archive doesn't just record what was. It suggests… what could still be. And it's alive."
"Good," Asphor whispered. "That means it's listening."
Hall of Mirrors That Bleed
At last, the stairs opened into a vast chamber — dome-shaped, filled with floating orbs of light, each suspended over a mirror made of black mercury. The room pulsed with something worse than magic.
It pulsed with possibility.
Each orb, Asphor explained, was a Thread of Fate — a life that could have been. Some true. Some false. Some... stolen.
Nezutsu stood before the first orb.
The moment he touched it, his world shifted.
Vision 1: The Tyrant Nezutsu
He stood atop a throne of corpses, robed in shadows, his eyes glowing crimson. Beneath him, cities burned.
His voice boomed like thunder.
"No gods. No kings. Only Flame."
He raised his hand, and the stars themselves fell from the sky.
Nezutsu jerked back, gasping.
"That wasn't me," he hissed.
"It was a version of you," said Asphor, not unkindly."That's why we're here. To face the futures… and choose the right one."
Velgrim frowned. "Or to be tempted by the wrong one."
Vision 2: The Broken Flame
Another mirror.
Another thread.
Nezutsu found himself lying in a crater, weeping. His hands were charred stumps. His heart… missing.
Surrounding him were people he'd tried to protect — all dead. The Fifth Flame flickered beside him like a dying candle.
He whispered to no one:
"I saved them too late…"
Then everything turned to ash.
When he pulled away, his eyes were damp.
"Why is this place showing me my failures?"
"Because the truth," Asphor said, "is shaped by doubt. And you doubt yourself more than you know."
The Twisting Subplot: Kaelith's Secret Past
Far across the hall, a crack appeared in the floor.
Velgrim raised his weapon — too late.
The floor opened like a mouth, and Kaelith's voice screamed from below.
"NEZUTSU—!"
He rushed forward, peering into the chasm.
What he saw made his blood freeze.
Kaelith was chained in a cathedral of thorns. Around her stood twelve hooded figures, chanting in a language that hurt the ear. Her eyes glowed — not violet, but silver.
One figure stepped forward.
Asphor gasped beside Nezutsu. "No…"
"What? Who is that?" Nezutsu demanded.
"That's not part of any Thread. That's a Loop. A repeating fate. Someone's been trapping her timeline—repeating her betrayal over and over."
"Why?"
"To forge a god."
The Woman with No Voice
Suddenly, one of the mirrors shattered.
From the void stepped a woman in rags. Her face was covered with ash, and her mouth had been sewn shut.
Still… she spoke.
"You are the Thread That Should Not Be," she told Nezutsu, her voice echoing directly into his soul.
"You are the Flame that remembers choice. The world will not let you live… but it cannot kill you either."
She held out a scroll.
On it were only three words:"Choose your story."
Nezutsu reached for it—
And instantly, the chamber screamed.
The False Flame Rises
Every orb exploded.
Flames — red, blue, violet, black — swirled into a vortex above the mirrors.
Asphor cried out. "Something's overriding the Archive—someone's manipulating the Threadscape!"
The vortex opened like an eye.
From it descended a mirror-Nezutsu — with horns of starlight, flame for hair, and a crown of blinking gods' skulls.
"I am what you'll become if you stop choosing."
He raised his palm.
A massive bolt of inverted fire struck the ground — shattering the floor and hurling Nezutsu across the hall.
The real Nezutsu rose, smoke curling from his arms.
His violet flame flickered wildly.
"You're not me," he growled.
"Not yet," said the mirrored version. "But I am the shape you'll wear once they start choosing for you."
: A Choice With No Right Answer
The real Nezutsu stood, panting, heart racing.
The woman with the sewn mouth had vanished.
Kaelith's scream echoed once more from the vortex of broken loops.
Velgrim grabbed his arm.
"If we leave now, we can still pull her out."
"But if we stay," Asphor warned, "we can find the Fifth Flame's name — and end this fate-cycle forever."
The Archive pulsed around them.
One stair led into Kaelith's fractured loop.
Another stair led toward the True Core of the Archive — where the First Memory of the Fifth God was kept.
Nezutsu looked at both.
Behind him, the mirror-Nezutsu whispered:
"No matter what you choose… something you love will die."
[TO BE CONTINUED...]