The stairwell ended in silence.
Not the silence of ruins or collapsed halls—but a stillness so complete it pressed against the skin. A stillness that listened.
Kael stepped onto smooth stone, his breath catching. The walls here glowed with a low, ashen light—lines of dormant glyphs pulsing faintly in the gloom like veins beneath stone.
No dust. No decay.
"Preserved," Elira whispered. "This place has been sealed since the Fall."
Tovan swept his weapon across the entryway, uneasy. "Feels like it knows we're here."
The corridor stretched before them, long and unbroken. Kael felt the Echoheart pulsing steadily now—not frantically, but in rhythm with the stone.
Every step felt preordained.
The farther he walked, the more distant the world behind him felt. Sounds dulled. Movement slowed.
He passed an alcove and stopped.
A figure stood within.
Cloaked. Silent. Not physical.
An echo—a memory of someone who had once walked these halls. The figure took a slow step forward, then dissolved like smoke.
Kael blinked. "Did you see that?"
Tovan and Elira shook their heads.
The corridor opened into a wide circular chamber, and Kael stopped cold.
Metal spheres floated in the air—dozens of them—anchored in place by tendrils of glowing light that threaded up into the ceiling like roots from an upside-down tree. The light flickered with color—some soft gold, others blue, and a few pulsing a deep, slow crimson.
Elira approached one carefully, eyes wide. "This is a registry vault," she said. "A containment field. These are… relic event anchors."
Tovan cursed under his breath. "Events?"
"Not relics themselves," Elira replied. "The memories of when relics broke free. When they changed the world."
Kael stepped deeper inside.
The Echoheart surged—not in fear, but recognition.
He moved toward a sphere at the far edge—unlike the others. Its tether had faded. Its surface was cracked, leaking soft ashlight in slow pulses.
Kael reached for it.
Elira stepped forward, voice low with fear. "Kael—don't you vanish on me too."
Too late.
His fingers brushed the cracked metal—and the world vanished.
Ash.
It fell like rain, blanketing a city he didn't know.
Streets burned silently. Towers crumbled beneath unseen weight.
In the distance, a black sun flared behind jagged stone arches.
And in the center of the ruin stood a person—Kael couldn't make out their face—but they held the Echoheart in one hand, raised high.
And from it, ashlight poured.
"You are too late... or too early. Or both."
Kael gasped and stumbled back.
Elira steadied him.
"What did you see?"
"A city," Kael said, breath shaking. "Burning. A storm of ashlight. And the Echoheart was there—held up like a beacon."
Tovan frowned. "A memory?"
Kael shook his head. "No. It hasn't happened. Not yet."
The room shifted.
Across the curved wall, a glyph lit up—then another.
A map, drawn in threads of relic-light, bloomed before them.
It wasn't the city.
It was the world.
And across the map, several nodes glowed faintly—dim relic events, long gone.
But one pulsed bright red.
The Echoheart's pulse aligned with it.
Kael stepped forward. "It's leading us there."
"To stop it?" Elira asked.
Tovan narrowed his eyes. "Every time we follow that thing, something gets worse."
Kael looked at the anchor that had nearly shattered in his hand. The ashlight still leaked from its cracks.
"No," he said. "To finish what someone else started."