The tremor didn't fade.
It answered itself.
A second vibration rolled through the Academy, deeper and longer, rattling ward lines until they screamed in protest. Somewhere above us, glass shattered. Someone shouted.
[Containment strain: Critical.]
Vaelith's jaw tightened. Whatever decision she'd been holding onto shattered with the wards.
"Seal the corridor," she snapped into a crystal communicator. "Evacuate the lower halls. Now."
She turned to me. "You're coming with me."
I didn't hesitate. "Good. Because you can't handle this alone."
For a brief moment, she looked like she wanted to argue.
Then the stone beneath our feet moaned.
That ended the discussion.
Vaelith pressed her palm against the sealed stairwell door. Runes ignited in rapid succession, layers peeling back like locks opening in the wrong order.
The door groaned—and slid aside.
Cold rushed out.
Not air.
Absence.
The stairwell spiraled downward into darkness, its walls etched with containment sigils so old they'd been reforged multiple times. Even so, many were cracked—patched, rewritten, strained beyond design.
"This was never meant to hold this much," I said quietly.
"No," Vaelith replied. "It was meant to hold long enough."
We descended.
With every step, the pressure in my chest grew heavier. The Authority Fragment pulsed in sync with something below—slow, massive, uneven.
[Archive proximity increasing.]
Whispers brushed my thoughts.
Not voices.
Memories without owners.
A laugh with no face.
A spell without a name.
A fear without a cause.
I forced my breathing steady.
"Do you hear them?" Vaelith asked.
"Yes," I said. "That's a problem."
Her steps faltered for half a heartbeat. "I hear static. Nothing more."
I glanced at her.
So it's already selective.
The stairwell ended at a vast circular chamber.
At its center hung the Archive.
Not a library.
Not an object.
A compression.
Layers of distorted space folded inward around a core of pale, pulsing light. Broken spell circles rotated slowly, colliding and reforming. Chains of runes wrapped around it, glowing white-hot as they struggled to maintain cohesion.
Every chain was hooked into the Academy above.
Feeding. Stabilizing. Recording.
Using.
My throat went dry.
"This isn't containment," I said. "This is exploitation."
Vaelith didn't deny it.
"We learned how to siphon," she said carefully. "Minimal leakage. Maximum control."
"You're milking a fault line," I replied. "You don't control what breaks first."
The Archive shuddered violently.
One of the runic chains snapped.
The sound wasn't loud—
—but reality flinched.
[Cascade failure initiated.]
The chamber lights flared red.
Alarms screamed.
Vaelith raised her staff. "We can reinforce the chains."
"No," I said sharply. "That will accelerate collapse."
She turned on me. "Then what do you suggest?"
I closed my eyes and reached inward.
To the Archive within me.
To the unnamed spell.
[Partition — Partial invocation available.]
I opened my eyes.
"We separate it," I said. "Not destroy. Not suppress."
Vaelith stared. "You want to split the Archive?"
"Layer by layer," I replied. "Bleed off pressure into parallel containment planes."
"That's impossible."
I met her gaze.
"No," I said. "It's forgotten."
Another chain cracked.
The Archive pulsed, swelling outward.
Time was gone.
I stepped forward.
The pressure slammed into me like a wall, memories tugging at my mind—trying to stick, to tear, to overwrite.
[Memory erosion: Rising.]
I gritted my teeth and raised both hands.
"Partition," I whispered.
The spell answered.
Reality didn't tear.
It folded.
Invisible seams spread through the Archive, dividing it into layered segments—each drifting slightly out of alignment with the others. The pressure dropped instantly, like releasing valves one by one.
Vaelith staggered, barely keeping her footing.
"What—what did you do?" she demanded.
"I gave it space," I said through clenched teeth. "Something you never did."
The Archive screamed—not in pain, but in relief.
The chains stopped glowing white-hot.
The alarms cut off one by one.
[Cascade failure halted.]
[Partition stability: Temporary.]
I collapsed to one knee, gasping.
My head pounded.
Something slipped.
I reached for it—
And missed.
[Memory erosion confirmed.]
[Loss detected: Minor — Emotional context.]
I didn't know what I'd lost.
Only that it had mattered.
Vaelith stared at the divided Archive, awe and fear battling in her expression.
"You… saved the Academy," she said slowly.
I looked up at her.
"No," I replied. "I saved the city."
Then I pushed myself to my feet.
"And now," I added quietly, "we need to talk about what happens when your 'temporary' solution stops being enough."
Because deep within the partitioned layers—
Something old had noticed me.
And this time—
It wasn't grateful.