The elevator groaned like a dying beast as it plunged deeper into Gravepoint's underbelly. Kade stood at the rear, his knuckles white as he clutched the hilt of his sword. Beside him, Veyne stared ahead with grim focus, and Lira lay unconscious between them, her breath shallow and ragged.
"How far down does this go?" Kade finally asked, breaking the silence.
Veyne didn't look at him. "Deep enough that even the Veil thinks twice."
The air turned colder as the lift descended. Strange markings etched into the walls glowed faintly, pulsing with a rhythm that didn't match time. Kade noticed one of them for too long—and it blinked back at him.
He looked away.
With a shudder, the elevator ground to a stop. The doors opened to a cavernous expanse bathed in sickly green light. Bookshelves rose like towers, stacked with tomes wrapped in leather, shadow, and bone. Glass globes drifted lazily through the air, filled with flickering memories, suspended mid-scream or sob.
"This is a library?" Kade whispered.
"It was," Veyne replied. "Now it's the Curator's tomb. He doesn't die. He just… forgets how to live."
They stepped into the atrium. Every sound echoed strangely, like voices repeating themselves from a moment that hadn't happened yet. A cloaked figure sat at the far end, hunched over a pile of broken masks. His robe dragged across the stone, leaving no trace, but Kade felt something wrong behind that porcelain face.
The Silent Curator.
He said nothing, did nothing—until Kade took a step forward.
Then the air bent.
The Curator raised a single finger and pointed at Kade.
Veyne knelt. "We seek remembrance. Knowledge for the Fragment. Payment will be made."
The Curator waved his hand.
In an instant, Veyne and Lira vanished.
Kade stood alone.
The shelves warped. The lights vanished. A world unfurled around him—dark, thunderous skies, and a battlefield stretching for miles.
He wasn't himself anymore.
He was watching himself.
An older Kade—taller, built like a storm, clad in armor blackened with Veilscars—walked across broken stone. In his hand was the same sword. Only… it screamed with chained spirits, the blade pulsing with memory.
The older Kade faced a throne of corpses. On it sat a massive figure in crimson robes—no face, only a crown of dripping eyes.
"You lost, Kade," the figure rasped.
Older Kade smiled. "I never wanted to win."
And then he plunged the sword into his own chest.
Kade screamed.
The vision shattered like glass under pressure, and he was back—on his knees, gasping, the Curator watching him with cold detachment.
"What… was that?" he croaked.
The Curator finally spoke. His voice was a dry echo, like pages turning in an empty house.
> "A fragment of yourself. One of many."
Kade stared, trembling. "I've lived before…"
> "You've died before. Countless times. Always fighting, always returning. Always forgetting."
Kade shook his head. "That's not possible."
> "Then why does the sword know your name?"
The blade pulsed again, softly—like it agreed.
Veyne and Lira reappeared beside him. Veyne looked worse—pale, sweating. Lira stirred, groaning.
"Welcome back," the Curator said. "Though not for long."
A sharp buzzing filled the air. Rifts tore open in the ceiling—slender, vertical gashes dripping with smoke and whispering hymns.
Veyne cursed. "They tracked us here!"
Figures began to descend—cloaked in black, wearing cracked masks. Ash Choir hunters.
Kade helped Lira up. "She's not ready to run!"
"Then carry her!" Veyne snarled, drawing twin knives glowing blue.
The Curator turned toward the invaders and extended both hands. Scrolls burst into flames around him, flying through the air.
> "You want knowledge?" he whispered. "Then drown in it."
A wall of books rose from the ground like a tidal wave, smashing into the Ash Choir as arcane flames ignited the chamber. Screams echoed from inside.
Veyne grabbed Kade's shoulder. "There's a tunnel behind the Archive Hall. Leads into the Underwalks. GO!"
Kade sprinted, carrying Lira on his back. The air was thick with burning parchment and chanted curses. Shelves crumbled around him, and shadows screamed as they were consumed by knowledge too old to exist.
He didn't look back.
As they reached the tunnel, Veyne tossed him a relic—a compass that spun erratically.
"It'll point toward memory," Veyne said. "Use it."
Kade looked back once more. The Curator stood alone in the fire, watching them go.
Then the library collapsed behind him.
---
Elsewhere…
In a silver coffin floating above a skyscraper, another Kade opened his eyes.
This one wore a crown of wires.
"Beginning Phase Two," he whispered. "Target consciousness awakened. Let's see what I left behind."