The tears dried. Slow. Quiet. Not rushed. Not forced. Just finished. Mae sniffed once, knuckles wiping under her eyes, breath unsteady but no longer shaking apart at the seams. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers twisting the fabric of the blanket. The others stayed close. Not crowding. Just there. Watching. Waiting. Giving space, but refusing to leave. Until. A shift. Subtle. Soft. But all of them felt it. The air thickened. The shadows near the doorway curled, just slightly.
Kaine's eyes flicked up first, followed by Lucien, then Sethis. Even Riven's head turned. His lazy grin softened, not surprised. Not tense. Just expectant. Because of course.
Of course. He'd been there the whole time. Footsteps, silent. Weighted not by sound, but by presence. Ashar stepped into the room, the shadows seeming to drag behind him like reluctant ghosts. His posture straight, precise. Silent. But in his hands, a book.
Thick. Heavy. Bound in a material that looked like stone and metal fused together. Veins of silver and dark crystal pulsed through it, like it was still alive, breathing.
Ancient symbols lined the cover, Veydrin script, sharp and elegant, curling around a single emblem at its center: A fractured star, stitched together by threads of light and shadow. Every one of them stared. Not because it was strange. Not because it was new.
But because, they all knew what it was. The Ancestral Codex. A book that wasn't supposed to exist anymore. Destroyed in the final collapse of Veydrin. Gone before Ashar ever stood as the last. A book made for this purpose. This moment. Riven's chest pulled tight. His fingers twitched against his knee. Kaine muttered a curse under his breath. Lucien leaned forward, wide-eyed. Sethis stood straighter, more alert than anyone had seen in days.
And Mae, her gaze locked onto Ashar's. Confused. Curious. Small, but no longer crumbling. Ashar said nothing. Not at first. Not for a long time. He didn't need to.
His presence spoke first. His silence filled the room, not cold. Not cruel. Just final. Weighted. Heavy with everything that now hung between them. The book. Her. Him.
Fate. Without a word, he stepped closer. His boots made no sound on the stone. His eyes never left Mae's, not for a second.
Then, carefully, slowly, he knelt. Set the book down between them, right at the center of the room. Its pulse of dim light echoed through the stone floor, like a heartbeat syncing with something deeper. Then he sat back, folding his long frame neatly, comfortably, calmly. Back to the version of Ashar everyone knew. Silent. Stoic. Watching. Observing. Breathing like the statue of a god carved into the bones of the universe. Not a word. Not an explanation. Just waiting.
Because everyone in that room understood what this was now. This wasn't his story anymore. It was hers. And the book, the Codex, was the key to unlocking it. Lucien cleared his throat, stepping forward just slightly. His voice was quieter than usual, careful. Respectful. "The Codex." His gaze flicked to Mae, soft but serious. "It's sacred. To every species. Each one has their own. Or." He corrected himself, glancing at the cover. "Had their own. Before most were lost."
His arms folded, leaning slightly against the wall. "It's not just a book. It's memory. Knowledge. History. Lore. But it only responds to those born of, or bound to, that species. No outsider can open it... no matter how hard they try." His eyes softened further, tension flickering beneath. "It's how the sacredness stays, pure. Protected. Unique." Mae's mouth opened, but no words came. Her eyes drifted back to the book sitting between her and Ashar, soft pulses of silver-blue light still thrumming through the stone floor beneath it.
Bound to a species? But I don't have one do I? Her fingers clenched at the fabric in her lap. Her breath caught somewhere between fear and disbelief. Ashar didn't speak. Didn't move. But the look in his crystalline gaze. It wasn't warning. It wasn't threat.
It wasn't even curiosity. It was acceptance. As if he knew. As if he'd always known.
Slowly, cautiously, Mae shifted. Her knees slid forward against the cool floor. Her weight tilted until she sat beside him, not touching, but close. Her fingers hovered just above the Codex, hesitant.
The light pulsed brighter. A hum, deep, low, like the sound of the universe breathing from beneath the skin of the world, rolled through the air. What? And then, before she could even decide to touch it. The Codex opened. Pages unfolded on their own, weightless, turning in an invisible wind. Symbols scrawled themselves across the surface, not Veydrin, not anything anyone recognized. Lines of language that shimmered in gold and silver, fluid like light, sharp like broken glass.
The glow spilled out, washing over her hands, her knees, her shoulders, and Ashar, too. His posture didn't shift, but his hands flexed once, fingertips brushing the floor like grounding himself. A breath, not hers, not anyone else's, echoed through the room. The Codex had chosen. And it was no longer just the lore of one species.
It was hers.