Four seals.
Four minds aligned.
The door opens not with a key, but with *will.*
The Hollow Vault isn't just hidden.
It's *forgotten.*
Buried beneath the Temple of Thread, sealed behind oaths, blood, and magic older than the city itself.
Even the officials barely speak of it.
Because they fear what's inside.
And now… it's *mine.*
We descend in silence—Calin, Yvenna, Marrow, Thorne, and me.
Each of them touches a corner of the stone archway.
The ring pulses.
Four seals shimmer like silver brands across their skin—responding to something ancient in the stone.
There's a pause.
Then the wall breathes.
Stone parts like lungs exhaling dust and age.
The Hollow Vault opens.
Inside: nothing.
At least, that's what it *seems.*
Just dust, bones, and echoes.
But I can feel it—like a hum under the skin.
Power *left behind.* Power *hidden.*
"Is this what they were guarding?" Calin whispers. "An empty tomb?"
"No," I murmur. "This is a womb."
He frowns.
"For what?"
I walk forward.
The ring guides my hand to a pedestal of cracked obsidian.
No inscription. Just stillness.
But when my fingers touch it, light bursts from the stone—lines racing along the floor like veins being awakened.
And then, I *see.*
Not with eyes.
With memory not my own.
Battles. Sacrifices. Rites that bound the city together—thread by thread, vault by vault.
The Hollow Vault was never meant to protect something.
It was meant to *hide* something.
An anchor.
Not of the Threadless' power.
Of the city's *soul.*
"There's something underneath this chamber," I say. "A second vault. Alive."
Yvenna steps forward, shaken. "I've seen it in dreams. A knot of black cords, pulsing like a heart."
"They kept it sealed with lies," Marrow mutters. "Told us the seals were safeguards. But they're locks."
"And we've opened them," Thorne says. "What now?"
The ring responds before I do.
A second pulse. Deeper. Heavier.
And a voice—*not spoken,* but *felt.*
"Bind or break."
I realize what it means.
This power... can reshape Stonefold.
Reweave its very foundation.
But only if I claim it.
If I don't—it will break free. And burn everything.
"We came here for secrets," I say. "But what we've found is a decision."
"Bind or break," Lira echoes behind me. She's just arrived, eyes wide at the shimmering light.
"You're not really going to use it?" she asks.
"I'm going to make sure no one else can."
I place the ringed hand on the pedestal again.
The stone flares.
My body tenses.
And beneath the Hollow Vault, I feel the second heart *wake.*
It thrashes.
It remembers.
It tests me.
But I don't break.
I *bind.*
The magic lashes out, a storm of voices and visions and pain.
But the ring doesn't flinch.
It wraps the chaos in silver light.
And for a moment—just a breath—the whole city feels *still.*
Then the light fades.
The pedestal quiets.
And the vault sleeps again.
"It's done," I say, turning to them.
Calin nods. "So what now?"
I look down at my hand—where the ring now glows with a deeper, darker thread.
"Now we prepare. Because the Threadless will know we've come here."
*The Hollow Vault is no longer hidden.*
*The city's heart is no longer dormant.*
*And the ring… is no longer silent.*
They will come for it.
Let them.