The snow came without warning.
One moment the sky was clear. The next—ashen clouds rolled over the peaks, and flurries swept through the narrow path where Elara and Kai tread. The wind cut sharp as blades. Trees bowed under its weight.
"Wasn't it spring this morning?" Kai shouted over the howl.
Elara didn't answer. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around the mirror shard in her satchel. It had begun to glow—softly, faintly, like it sensed something beneath the ice.
"The key's reacting again," she said, shielding her eyes. "We're close."
"To what? Hypothermia?" Kai muttered, tugging his scarf tighter.
They pushed forward into the white, following no visible trail. But the key pulled her feet like compass iron. As they crossed a frozen stream, Elara's breath caught.
A shape rose from the snow—half-buried, ancient, and unmistakably carved.
A monolith.
Its surface was etched in spiral patterns and jagged runes, worn smooth by time and storm. But beneath its center—glowing faint blue—was a circular indentation. The exact shape of the mirror shard.
"It's a lock," Elara said, heart racing. "Not just a relic."
Kai raised a brow. "So we're just putting random magic pieces into ancient unknown machines now? That's our life?"
"Pretty much."
She pressed the shard into the monolith.
At first—nothing.
Then the ground trembled.
The snow around them hissed and steamed as it sank downward, revealing a stairwell beneath the monolith. Wind sucked downward like a breath inhaled. A distant hum echoed from below.
"Elara," Kai warned, hand on his blade.
"I have to see," she said, already descending.
---
The stairwell led to a cavern of ice and quartz—walls reflecting fractured light, symbols glowing beneath the surface. At the center: a large stone table. Above it, suspended by invisible force, floated a massive crystal with veins of gold, pulsing like a heartbeat.
And beneath the table—machinery.
Ancient. Pre-human. Whispering.
Elara approached it, mesmerized. "What is this place?"
Kai circled the crystal warily. "Looks like a transmission hub. Maybe magic... maybe tech?"
Just then—the crystal flashed.
A voice rang out. Not spoken, but pressed into their minds like a tuning fork to the soul.
> "Welcome, Keeper. You are late."
Elara stumbled back. "Who—what was that?!"
The crystal pulsed again.
> "This memory is fragmented. Connection unstable. Mirror resonance at 43%. Proceed with caution."
A ghostly figure flickered beside the crystal—shimmering, blurry. A woman in robes not unlike the Watcher's. But her face was hidden beneath a hood of shifting stars.
> "If you're hearing this... then the Gate still stands. The Key has found its bearer. But the truth remains buried in the Deep Archives—beneath the Ashen Vault."
The figure flickered out.
Elara reached toward the crystal. "Wait! What's the Ashen Vault?"
The crystal dimmed.
Dead silence.
Kai exhaled slowly. "Okay, so... ancient psychic voicemail?"
Elara stepped back, heart pounding. "She knew I'd be here. She called me the Keeper."
"The 'Deep Archives' part freaks me out more. We already went through ruins and illusions. What's next, magical bureaucracy?"
But Elara wasn't laughing.
Because in that moment—she felt it. A shift in the key. A direction.
South.
"It's pointing again," she said. "We're not done here."
She turned to the crystal. "This place... it was a relay. A message hub. Part of something bigger."
Kai squinted. "Like a network?"
"Exactly. This was never just magic—it's a system. A forgotten system still running."
Her breath caught. "The Gate isn't just a seal… it's a switch."
Kai blinked. "Okay, no. You don't just drop apocalypse tech terminology like that without context."
But Elara had already pulled out the key.
The gold half flickered to life again. The silver followed.
And behind her, the machinery began to whir.
Symbols along the walls activated one by one. Light danced along old circuits. Something awoke.
And deep beneath their feet, the cavern shifted.
The floor cracked open.
A new tunnel spiraled downward.
Elara looked at Kai. "Ready to follow the rabbit hole deeper?"
Kai groaned. "We never get to go up, do we?"
She grinned despite herself. "Not until we hit the bottom first."
They stepped into the tunnel.
And behind them, the crystal—now empty—shattered into dust.
---
Far away, on a peak they could not see, a silver-eyed figure stood in the snow, watching.
Her hands bore a fresh wound. Her robes were torn.
Maevra lived.
And now, she knew where Elara was going.
She smiled.
"The Vault awakens," she whispered. "Let's see if the child can bear the truth."