The corridor descended far longer than any of them expected.
The air grew colder, but not dead. It buzzed faintly—like a hum just below hearing, a whisper caught in stone. The walls glowed with subtle runes, pulsing in sync with Kael's heartbeat.
When they reached the end, the passage opened into a vast, cathedral-like chamber.
Kael stopped at the threshold.
The Vault.
Massive columns stretched to a ceiling lost in shadow. Between them, the floor gleamed with crystal inlays—tracing circular patterns like relic circuitry. Along the walls, murals rose ten meters high: battles, storms, relics wielded like gods. The final mural depicted a man—face hidden—plunging a sphere of light into a broken rift in the sky.
Elira stepped beside him. "This isn't just a tomb."
Tovan nodded slowly. "It's a warning."
They walked in silence, their footsteps echoing across the smooth floor. The Vault's stillness wasn't emptiness—it was anticipation. Like everything here had been waiting.
They passed into a long hall lined with pedestals.
Dozens of them.
Each once held a relic. Most now stood empty—worn smooth by time or theft. A few remained sealed in suspended light. One flickered as Kael passed, its containment field blinking once, like a dying eye.
Elira stopped before a particularly tall pedestal. "Whatever was here—it fought hard before being taken."
The claw marks in the stone were still visible.
Tovan frowned. "You think something's still active?"
"I think," Kael said, "not everything that was sealed here wanted to be."
At the hall's far end, the floor sloped down into a chamber shaped like a sunken star.
At its center hovered a crystalline monolith, suspended above a dais by threads of light. It pulsed—not brightly, but steadily. And as Kael stepped toward it, the Echoheart responded with a matching beat.
The monolith flared.
And the Vault remembered.
A vision unfolded—this time not in Kael's mind, but around them.
The chamber filled with light.
Walls became sky.
The three stood in a great hall, surrounded by voices shouting, relics clashing.
They saw six figures—armored, radiant, and exhausted.
One shouted:
"We can't hold the rift!"
Another, smaller in stature, clutched a sphere of golden light—the Echoheart.
"If we combine them, we can seal it—"
"We've tried! They won't synchronize!"
Chaos. Anguish. A decision.
The figure with the Echoheart turned away from the others.
"Then we seal them separately. Hide the Echo. Lock the memory."
Elira whispered, "They were trying to save everything—and it still wasn't enough."
The memory froze.
The bearer raised the Echoheart—and the vision shattered in white.
Back in the Vault, Kael staggered. The Echoheart in his chest burned briefly, then dimmed again.
He dropped to one knee.
"When the bearer returns," a voice whispered in the room itself,
"the cycle resumes. Choose wisely this time."
Silence fell again.
But not for long.
A deep vibration pulsed beneath the floor. Dust drifted from the ceiling. The crystal monolith dimmed—its energy transferred, fading into the platform below.
Kael rose slowly. "It's not over."
Beneath their feet, a great seal glowed faintly—then cracked.
A sound followed.
Not stone. Not metal.
A heartbeat.
Kael placed a hand over the Echoheart.
"What if I'm not here to break the cycle… but to finish it?"