The wind over the Ashspine Ridge howled like a thing alive, tearing across the jagged peaks and scattering gray dust into the sky. Lucian and Laila stood beneath the cliffs, cloaks drawn tight, watching the path ahead dissolve into a cold, choking mist.
No birds. No sun. Just the whispering ash and the looming gates of the Hollow Accord—an ancient stronghold carved into the mountain's bones, half-forgotten by time but not by legend.
"This is where the next shard lies," Lucian murmured. "In the vault of the Accord."
Laila nodded. "And it's guarded by more than just stone and steel."
The Hollow Accord had once been a monastery—neutral ground for arcane scholars, warrior-monks, and oldblood nobles who had sworn themselves to the silence of wisdom rather than the chaos of politics. But when the Accord fractured during the Great Sundering, its inhabitants didn't die.
They sealed themselves in.
And never came out.
For centuries, the place had been abandoned. No traveler who entered ever returned. Whispers spoke of monks turned to living statues, minds cracked by the secrets they swore to keep. Of the Vault of Thirteen—where the shard now rested—protected by wards that fed on memory.
Lucian stepped forward, the shard from Thereth pulsing faintly in his chest pouch. "One way in."
Laila touched his arm. "This time… let's be careful. Not everything we face can be fought."
He gave a tight nod, then pushed open the stone gate.
It didn't creak. It breathed—a sound like exhalation, ancient and heavy. Inside was shadow, broken only by flickering lanterns fueled not by fire, but will.
They entered.
🜂
The halls of the Hollow Accord were shaped like a spiral—again. The pattern echoed over and over in their journey: spirals, circles, endless loops. But unlike Thereth, this spiral wasn't a ritual.
It was a warning.
As they walked, the temperature dropped. The walls were covered in murals—depicting scenes of unity, betrayal, silence, and fire. And at the center of each was a pair of mirrored figures: twins, always.
Lucian paused before one fresco.
It showed two children—one wrapped in light, the other in shadow—standing before a shattered tower. A spiral of flame linked their hands.
Laila stared at it. "We keep seeing them."
"They keep seeing us," Lucian said. "This isn't coincidence. Someone… something is watching."
They passed deeper into the Accord. Around the next corner, the silence ended.
A voice, dry and echoing, called out:
"You walk unbound in a place of vows."
A figure emerged from a side alcove—tall, gaunt, bald, draped in tattered robes the color of ash. His eyes glowed faintly silver, like the shards themselves.
"I am Brother Ashren," he said. "Keeper of the Fifth Vow. You seek what is not yours."
Lucian stood tall. "We seek what was broken. To stop what comes."
Ashren's eyes narrowed. "You would steal from the Accord?"
"No," Laila said. "We'd restore balance. Or everything will burn."
The monk studied them. "There is a test. There is always a test. If you pass, the shard is yours. If you fail…"
He didn't finish.
Ashren turned and walked away, his footsteps making no sound.
Lucian and Laila followed.
🜂
They were led into a chamber vast as a cathedral, lit only by cold fire suspended in glass orbs. In the center lay a platform of obsidian carved into thirteen interlocking rings.
Ashren gestured. "Step into memory."
Lucian hesitated. "What does that mean?"
"Your past. Your truth. The shard will not accept liars."
Laila looked at her brother. "We go together."
As they stepped onto the rings, the world tilted.
🜂
Lucian stood in a hallway he hadn't seen in years.
The farmhouse. Their old home. The night of the attack.
He heard Laila's scream. Heard Hades' voice, low and brutal. Felt the pain again—the boot, the blood, the helplessness.
Then a voice behind him said, "Why didn't you fight back sooner?"
He turned.
It was him.
A younger Lucian, eyes wide and furious. "You had power. Even then. You chose to wait."
"I didn't know," Lucian whispered. "I didn't understand."
"You were afraid."
"Yes."
"And now?"
Lucian met his younger self's gaze. "Now I know who I am."
The vision shattered.
🜂
Laila stood in a corridor of rain.
Tista lay on a cot, pale and coughing. Elina sobbed in the next room, clutching a handful of spoiled herbs.
And behind her, a voice said, "You couldn't save her. You still can't."
She turned.
It was Tista.
Not the real one—but close. Her face was serene. Her voice, kind.
"You think if you become strong enough, you'll protect us all. That's not how it works."
"I have to try," Laila said.
"You'll break."
"Then I'll break with him."
The rain faded.
🜂
They awoke side by side, kneeling on the obsidian rings. Ashren stood nearby, silent.
He spoke at last: "You carry your truths well. Few ever pass the memory test."
He held out a small silver key.
"This opens the Vault. You will face no more illusions. Only what remains."
Lucian took it. "Thank you."
Ashren gave a sad smile. "Do not thank me. I only open doors. You must still walk through them."
🜂
The Vault of Thirteen was deep underground, past a series of sealed chambers. As they entered the final hall, a pressure settled over them—heavier than gravity.
Within, suspended in a sphere of pale flame, was the fourth shard.
But so was something else.
A figure sat cross-legged below it.
Not a monk. Not a ghost.
A boy—no older than sixteen. Hair like silver smoke. Eyes shut. Breathing steady.
Lucian stepped forward. "Who is he?"
Ashren's voice echoed from the doorway. "The last child of the Accord. He volunteered to become the Warden of the Flame."
Laila's eyes widened. "He's been here alone?"
"For nearly seventy years," Ashren said.
The boy stirred. His eyes opened.
They glowed.
"I am Veyren," he said softly. "You've come for the shard."
"We have," Lucian said. "But only if you'll let us."
Veyren stood slowly. "You're different than the others."
"What others?" Laila asked.
"Two came before you. Years ago. One spoke with fire, the other with fear. They failed."
Lucian's chest tightened. "Hades?"
Veyren nodded. "He tried to take the shard. It nearly killed him. He ran."
Laila looked up at the shard. "We won't take. We'll ask."
Veyren studied them. For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then he raised his hand.
The flame sphere dissolved.
The shard drifted down.
Lucian caught it.
"You carry a burden," Veyren said. "But not alone. That's why you'll succeed."
He turned back to his meditative position.
Ashren stepped forward, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder. "His vow is ending. Ours continues."
Lucian bowed.
And together, he and Laila left the Hollow Accord—four shards in hand, the spiral deeper than ever.