Lira floated.
Or fell.
Or drifted through something that felt like memory and dream and stone and sky all at once.
There were no walls in the Vault. No ceiling. No floor. Just a vast, shifting tapestry of scenes, each one stitched from light and echo.
A battlefield of white fire.
A tower crumbling in reverse.
A weeping child made of stars.
A voice saying her name in every language that never existed.
Lira.
Li'reth.
Lirá-thel.
The Flame That Chose.
The Memory That Lied.
She reached out.
And the world responded.
A memory wrapped around her — not hers — and pulled her into it like a tide.
She stood in a chamber of red stone.
Before her, a girl who looked just like her knelt in a circle of flame. Around her, seven figures stood with hands raised.
One of them — a tall woman in bone-wrapped robes — spoke the words:
"Let it be divided. Let it be forgotten."
The girl screamed.
And from her chest, a flickering ember was torn loose.
It became the First Flame.
Lira gasped.
The scene tore apart.
She fell again.
Another vision.
This time, she was standing at the top of a broken tower, staring down at the world.
Ashrel knelt before her.
Younger.
Smaller.
Crying.
"Why did you leave me?" he asked.
"You promised we would choose together."
"You promised you would remember me."
Lira stumbled backward out of the vision — breathless.
"No," she whispered. "That wasn't me. That can't be—"
But it was, said the Vault.
Or someone made in your image.
You were the vessel once. You are the vessel again.
The ember returned, floating just in front of her, pulsing softly.
There is another truth.
Buried even deeper.
Would you see it?
Lira hesitated.
"Yes."
And then everything burned.
She stood in a ruin of stars — and around her, voices rose in anguish.
A war, older than fire, raged through the fabric of the world.
One side wielded light.
The other wielded memory.
And in the center…
was her reflection.
But not Lira.
Not even the mirror-version.
This figure had no eyes.
Only a crown of flame.
And in her arms she cradled a child made of ash.
The Kindled Crown was not born of fire, the Vault whispered.
It was born of what fire tried to destroy.
Ash remembers everything flame forgets.
Then it was gone.
The visions ended.
Lira stood alone in a white void.
But now… she felt different.
Something inside her had opened.
And a single word echoed in her bones:
Choose.
Far above, on the Emberlight Shore, the Vault's mirror began to crack.
Vel Atra turned toward the sky.
And smiled.