The archive smelled of old parchment and older secrets. By torchlight, the dust shimmered in the air like memory made tangible.
Lysander stood before a sealed alcove near the back wall, fingers tracing the faded glyphs carved into the stone. The language was ancient—predating the kingdom, perhaps even the Soul Weave itself.
Elara watched from behind, arms crossed. "We've searched every inch. There's no mechanism."
"There's always a mechanism," Lysander murmured. "Especially in places designed to forget."
He stepped back, closing his eyes. "Describe the room."
"What?"
"Describe it. As if you were blind."
Elara hesitated. "Rectangular. Ten paces wide. Thirteen deep. Ceiling arched. Six sconces. Five lit. One always burns out."
Lysander smiled. "Where?"
Elara pointed. "Second on the right."
They approached. Lysander reached into the sconce's base and twisted. Something clicked. The glyphs pulsed faintly.
"Light and pattern," Lysander said. "Simple. Elegant."
The stone shifted, revealing a narrow staircase descending into darkness.
Elara stepped back. "What is this?"
"History."
They descended together, the air growing colder with each step. At the base was a chamber of black marble. No shelves. No scrolls. Just a pedestal in the center, and on it, a crystalline shard glowing with soft violet light.
Lysander approached slowly. "A fragment of the original Weave," he whispered.
Elara stared. "That's impossible."
"No," Lysander said. "It's buried. Hidden. Like all inconvenient truths."
The shard pulsed as he neared, and for a heartbeat, Lysander saw flashes—battles not fought, cities erased from memory, symbols from his old life flickering at the edge of recognition.
He stepped back, breath shaky.
"It's damaged," he said. "But functional."
Elara frowned. "What can it do?"
"Rewrite."
Silence.
"We can't let the Regent find this," Elara said.
"He won't," Lysander replied. "Not unless we lead him here."
The prince looked at him sharply. "You're not suggesting—"
"We give him a glimpse. Enough to tempt. Not enough to grasp."
Elara hesitated. "That's dangerous."
"Power always is."
As they ascended the stairs, the wall sealed behind them, erasing the past once more. But Lysander knew: the game had changed.
And he had just found the queen.