The cavern's silence lingered long after the whisper faded, pressing against the air like a closing fist. Riku's heartbeat hammered in his ears, each inhale sharp and unsteady. Though the runes along the walls had dimmed to a weaker glow, the chamber felt anything but safe; it felt distorted, as if something invisible had shifted the very shape of the space. Kaen was the first to break the stillness. He sniffed the air with the instinct of a seasoned warrior and growled, "The stench changed. Smells older. Not rot… something dug up." Elria's eyes weren't focused on the walls but on a deeper layer beneath them, her expression tight with intellectual dread. "A seal was never meant to be permanent," she murmured, brushing her fingertips over the newly etched eye-symbol. "Riku didn't just release that creature. He altered the terms of this place." Riku shut the leather-bound book slowly, feeling its warmth pulse like a heartbeat. A faint new sigil shimmered across the cover—grown, not carved. "I didn't force anything," he said quietly. "It felt like… the vow already existed. I only stepped into it." Elria's head snapped toward him. "Aligned with it? Or agreed to it?" That distinction sank uncomfortable claws into him. Kaen gave a frustrated exhale and tightened his grip on his axe. "Doesn't matter. If something got loose, we deal with it the same way as always. Hunt it. Trap it. End it." Elria shook her head sharply. "You can't kill an echo-bound entity. That wasn't a monster—it was a consequence." Even Kaen didn't argue that one. Then a subtle tremor rippled beneath their feet, as though the earth sighed. Dust drifted downward. From somewhere deeper, a faint metallic ringing echoed—delicate, rhythmic, like chains being pulled. The whisper returned, not words but cadence: a beckoning beat. Riku felt it settle beneath his ribs. "We're not done," he said, staring into the dark mouth of a newly formed passage. "Something wants us to follow." Elria stepped closer, inspecting runes that were shifting, alive, mutating like veins. "This wasn't here before," she whispered. "It appeared after your vow." Kaen's stance widened, battle-ready. "Then whatever lies ahead expected us." No one disagreed.
The descent twisted like the belly of some stone-born creature. The walls were too smooth to be natural, the runes too deliberate. The whispering surrounded them—layered voices, half-formed regrets, promises that ended in breathless, broken fragments. Torches ignited as they walked, violet flames casting warped shadows that moved half a second too late. Riku felt the familiar vibration of the vowbook against his hip, resonating with the chamber's pulse. Every step forward tightened an unseen thread. When the pathway finally opened into a grand circular chamber, all three halted. At its center hovered a cylindrical artifact above an obsidian pedestal, rotating slowly. Thousands of microscopic characters crawled across its surface like living ink, shifting constantly. A spectral mist curled around it. The hum it emitted buzzed through their chests. Elria gasped, awe and fear blending in her tone. "An Oath Relay Core… but older than any record. This shouldn't exist." Kaen spat to the side. "Looks like a prison key pretending to be fancy." Riku felt drawn to it, as if a hand tugged his chest forward. When he stepped within reach, the artifact halted its rotation entirely and aligned itself toward him. Elria grabbed his arm immediately. "Stop. It's attuning to you." Riku froze. "I didn't call it." "That's the problem," she said. Before he could pull away, a thunderous rumble shook the chamber. Across the room, a massive stone door unsealed, sliding open with a grinding howl. Beyond it lay a void—pitch-black, breathlessly cold, stretching into nothing. A gust of frigid air shot outward. Kaen's aura flared red around him. "Something's coming." Riku tore his gaze from the Core. "I didn't summon anything." Elria's voice hitched. "Maybe you didn't. But something… responded." From the void stepped a tall, hooded silhouette. Its robes were sewn from scroll-thread, dripping dark ink that sizzled when it hit the floor. Runes flickered beneath the hood like dying embers. Elria's breath vanished. "No... impossible." Kaen tightened his grip on his axe, knuckles whitening. "Show yourself." The figure tilted its head, and when it spoke, its voice was layered—whispers stacked atop whispers like torn pages fluttering in the dark. "Oathbearer… your vow has been acknowledged." It raised a quill-shaped staff, ink dripping from the tip. "By ancient decree, you are summoned… to the Ledger's True Convening." Riku felt everything inside him turn cold. Elria nearly stumbled backward. "That's not a wraith," she whispered. "It's a Recall Herald." Kaen frowned. "Meaning what?" "Meaning," Elria said, voice shaking, "the Silent Ledger didn't lose track of Riku. They've been waiting for him." The Herald extended a single thin hand. "Come, Oathbearer. Your trial has begun." Then beneath its hood, one eye opened—wet, real, and dripping ink. Watching him. Judging him. And Riku felt a truth settle into his bones like frost: he had not merely unbound a cursed creature. He had rung a bell that only one organization in all of Veylund was meant to hear. The Silent Ledger was calling him home.