The Vault responded to presence—not sound, not movement, but intent.
As Kairo stepped closer to the suspended heart-crystal, the Vault of Stars came alive. The rivers of starlight shifted their course. The statues of masked Ashborn turned their heads in perfect unison to face him. A wind that had no source whispered through the chamber like the breath of a sleeping god.
Kairo stopped just beneath the crystal.
It beat again—slow, resonant.
Thrum.
Thrum.
Thrum.
Then came the voice—not a memory, not a hallucination, but something alive. It didn't speak into the air—it spoke directly into his spirit.
"You who carry the Eye… do you accept what you are?"
Kairo's jaw clenched. "I do."
The Vault pulsed with approval.
"Then step into the flame."
Yui caught his arm. "Kai—wait. We don't know what it is."
He looked at her, eyes steady. "I know enough."
He turned, walked to the edge of the silver fire.
It danced without heat. It moved like water. Reflected stars.
Without hesitation, Kairo stepped in.
He didn't burn.
He fell.
Through memory.
Through time.
Through song.
He stood in another place. Not a dream. A memory. A living memory.
The world around him was whole—lush forests, clean skies, cities made of glass and sound. Tall spires filled with singing children wearing fox masks. Ashborn—not cursed, not hunted—but celebrated. Keepers of balance. Guardians of memory.
Then the sky cracked.
He saw the betrayal firsthand.
The Choir—once allies—unleashing the Soul Cages, devices that stole memory like thieves in the night. Ashborn fell, their voices bound, their marks burned from their skin. Cities collapsed under silence.
He saw a child—no more than six—ripped from her family and sealed in a Choir citadel.
Yui.
And he saw himself, not as a boy, but as a concept—a spark, hidden in her memories, waiting to be born again when the time was right.
He had not survived the fall of the Ashborn.
He had been reborn from it.
A final defense. A last hope.
Then the voice returned.
"You are the flame they could not extinguish. The voice they could not silence. The ash they feared would rise."
Light flared.
The world vanished.
Kairo opened his eyes.
He stood once more in the Vault.
The silver flame had receded, now dormant.
On his back, a new mark burned—a second sigil, shaped like a winged note embedded in a fox's eye. His vision sharpened. His body felt lighter.
He could feel the song in the stones.
He could hear Yui's heartbeat.
He could see the broken threads of the world—and now, he could sing them whole again.
Aeska stepped forward, stunned. "What did it show you?"
Kairo turned toward the crystal. "The truth."
He extended his hand.
The heart-crystal descended slowly, gently.
Then broke into seven glowing fragments—each drifting to a point around the chamber, as if waiting to be claimed.
"Seven voices," he whispered. "Seven Ashborn left in the world."
Aeska drew in a breath. "You mean…"
"I'm not the only one."
Yui stepped to his side.
"Then we find the others."
Above the Vault, the skies over Virelai darkened again.
The Choir had felt the pulse.
The Ashborn were awakening.
And their song was no longer silent.