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Chapter 9: The Pale Archive
Far beyond the sky, past the shattered remains of the moons, there floated a monolithic citadel anchored to a dead star.
The Pale Archive.
It was not built, but remembered into existence by ancient beings who had no need for time or matter. Within its walls, knowledge moved like blood. Scrolls breathed. Statues watched. And at its heart sat a throne of fused bone and crystal, upon which rested the Archivist of Chains.
She was blind.
And yet, she saw everything.
The instant Kaelen survived the Trial, the Archive shivered.
The chains that draped from the Archivist's wrists—miles long and forged from forgotten names—rattled with prophetic tension.
> "A Null-Sovereign has entered the Ladder," she whispered, her voice soft as unraveling silk.
A monk-like figure stepped from the shadows. Robed in ivory, mouth sewn shut. He knelt in silence.
"The First Eclipseborn have moved," she continued. "That… was not in the script."
A scroll floated down from the upper vaults, unfurling before her. Lines of fate writ in ink that bled and wept shifted, redrawing themselves with every heartbeat.
"A fracture," she muttered. "His presence disrupts the Cycle. Possibility has returned."
The monk trembled.
"Send an envoy," the Archivist said at last. "Watch the boy from the shadows. If he begins to climb too fast…"
The air around her tightened.
"…cut the rung from under him."
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Elsewhere…
Kaelen stirred in a ruined shelter, unaware of the weight now resting on his back. In his palm pulsed the Eclipse Shard—a sliver of Sovereign power.
He had survived gods.
But now, the world itself was watching.
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