The Hall of the Great Emperors was a cavernous space filled with four colossal statues that reached toward the vaulted ceiling. Adam, the Forge-King; Eve, the Mother of Sparks; Noah, the Veil-Thinners; and Solomon, the Void-Mapper.
Kael stood at the feet of Noah. The statue was made of a strange, grey stone that felt cold even in the summer heat.
"The race has started, Kael," the Crow whispered from the shadows of a stone pillar. "The ruins are rising. The sects are killing each other for the scraps. The 'Third Revival' isn't a gift; it's a culling. Only those with the weight to stay grounded will survive the storm."
Kael looked up at the stone face of the Emperor. He felt the Ark-Wood necklace against his chest pulse with a slow, rhythmic heat. Far above, on the skylight of the hall, he saw a familiar silhouette—the Architect, sitting on the edge of the glass, looking out at the rising violet tide.
"I'm not going to win their race," Kael said. His voice echoed through the empty hall, sounding like the shifting of tectonic plates.
He reached out and placed his hand on the base of Noah's statue. He didn't ask for power. He didn't pray for a sign. He simply aligned his own internal mass with the ancient stone.
"I'm going to build a new one."
The ground beneath the Academy groaned. Deep in the foundations, a seal that had been silent for seven thousand years began to hum. The Anchor had found its mark.