Above and below, the world trembled.
From the highest spire of Mimir's palace to the deepest stone root of the dungeon itself, a resonance passed like a thunderclap made of memory. The ancient soul-ward, buried beneath a thousand years of royal lies, gave one final pulse—
—and shattered.
Not with a sound of breaking glass, but a chorus of voices, weeping, screaming, whispering—all once part of her.
In the vault far beneath the earth, where Asher and Valeris walked the memory-haunted hallway, the air thickened. The walls groaned as if trying to contain a tidal wave of souls.
Then, at the end of the corridor, a lock like no other was revealed.
Set into the very foundation of the dungeon, it looked less like a mechanism and more like a living glyph—shaped like a spiral of eyes, teeth, and stardust, forged from soul-iron and frozen memory. It pulsed with a rhythm that matched Valeris's heartbeat.
The lock spun once.
Then cracked.
