The temple's breath was still.
Golden vines twisted across the ceiling like the veins of a slumbering god. Dust motes danced in shafts of warm light, slicing through broken stone and time-worn scripture. A silence reigned here, not empty, but sacred.
He knelt before the rune.
It pulsed faintly beneath his glove, a spiral of radiant lines nested in a circular weave, ancient, delicate, and… singing. Not in sound. In memory. Like something that had once belonged to him.
He didn't know why, but his chest tightened every time he saw one.
A name echoed faintly—Irielle—but it passed like wind through hollow halls.
Just as he pressed his hand to the rune, a quiet voice interrupted.
"You really shouldn't touch things you don't understand."
He didn't flinch.
From behind a shattered archway stepped a woman draped in green and bronze—her robes mismatched, her sleeves stained with ink and ash. Auburn hair tumbled down over one eye, and a worn satchel bounced against her hip.
She looked at him the way fire looks at dry wood.
"I've been studying that seal for weeks," she said, folding her arms. "You touch it once and it starts glowing. I hate you already."
He tilted his head.
Caelith sighed and stepped forward, kneeling beside the rune but keeping her hand to herself. "It's called a Harmonized Loop. It's supposed to react to shared memory threads. But no one's ever been able to activate one. Until now."
She glanced up at him. "So. Who are you?"
Silence.
He looked at her, eyes unreadable behind the silver mask.
"Okay. Strong, silent type. Great."
---
They stood in a muted standoff, surrounded by the hush of memory. Veilwalker turned back toward the rune, tracing its circular edge with a fingertip. Faint golden lines responded, weaving through the design like threads caught in a breeze.
Caelith watched him, curiosity flaring behind her dry sarcasm. "You're not from here, are you?"
No response.
She adjusted the strap of her satchel and frowned. "Well, you're either a godsent mystery or a very elaborate hallucination, and honestly, both are equally likely these days."
He slowly placed two fingers upon the rune's center again.
This time, it glowed brighter.
A soft hum vibrated through the chamber, as if the walls remembered. Symbols along the floor lit up in sequence, forming a trail deeper into the temple. Caelith's jaw dropped.
"Oh. You really are trouble."
---
They followed the trail of light.
The symbols shimmered faintly, revealing themselves only as they passed—a breadcrumb trail laid by memory, not logic. Veilwalker moved without hesitation. Caelith scribbled furiously in a leather-bound journal, muttering to herself between steps.
"You realize this entire temple is technically undocumented? The Arcane Institute barely acknowledges it exists. You've already activated more in five minutes than I have in three weeks." She glanced sideways. "I should be furious. But I'm mostly intrigued."
He didn't respond. But his gaze flicked toward her—briefly, thoughtfully.
As they turned a corner, the corridor widened into a domed chamber. Floating above a pedestal was a rotating cube, etched with shifting runes that rearranged themselves every few seconds. Four smaller symbols orbited it—each one flickering in and out of phase with reality.
Caelith's breath caught. "An Echo Lock."
Veilwalker approached it slowly.
"Careful," she warned. "They're memory-bound puzzles. Each lock responds to emotional resonance. Too much force—or the wrong memory—can collapse the whole thing."
He hesitated. Then, softly, almost like a whisper, he touched the cube.
Images flickered into being—fractured, fleeting. A forest of crystalline trees. A woman's voice humming a lullaby. The sensation of snowfall on skin. Then darkness.
He pulled back, shaken.
Caelith stepped closer, watching him. "That was your memory, wasn't it? The cube's using you to power the puzzle."
He nodded once.
Caelith looked at the orbiting symbols and began to pace, thinking aloud. "Each rune corresponds to an emotion. Grief, hope, love… and fear. The correct sequence aligns the cube and unlocks the next gate."
He stepped forward again, reaching for the runes.
"No," she said quickly. "Let me."
He looked at her, surprised.
Caelith placed a hand over the pedestal. The runes pulsed, and the cube froze.
"I may not have your connection to this place, but I am good at deciphering ancient nonsense. Just… let me think."
She closed her eyes.
Grief comes first, she reasoned. It always does. Then fear. Then… hope? No, not yet. Love. Hope is the final step.
She tapped the runes in that order: grief, fear, love, hope.
The cube shuddered. Then rotated, unfolding like a blooming flower. A beam of golden light shone through the chamber, revealing a doorway hidden in the far wall. The stone slid open with a low rumble.
Caelith let out a shaky laugh. "And that, masked mystery man, is why scholars are underrated."
---
As they stepped through the doorway, the air changed.
Cooler. More alive.
The walls were etched with ancient script. Veilwalker paused, tracing the letters with reverence.
"To remember is to remain. To forget is to fade."
Caelith read over his shoulder. "That's an old Spiritborne maxim. No one's spoken it aloud in centuries."
She looked at him, softer now. "You're not just a visitor to this place. You're part of it."
He turned to her. For the first time, his voice emerged—quiet, deep, shaped by long silence.
"I was born beyond the Veil."
She blinked. "Wait… the actual Veil? Between realms?"
He nodded.
Caelith sat down hard on a nearby stone. "Alright. So we're not just uncovering ruins. We're dealing with a Veilborn exile. This just got a lot more complicated."
He said nothing.
After a moment, she stood again, brushing off her robes. "Well. If you're going to keep walking into runes like that, I'm coming with you. Someone has to make sure you don't blow up the continent."
He looked at her.
She smirked.
"I'm Caelith. Scholar of the Arcane Institute. Banned twice. Probably deserved it. You?"
He paused. Then extended a hand.
She stared at it, caught off guard. Then smiled—not mocking, but real—and took it.
---
They walked together into the deeper hall.
One masked, one curious. Both lost in their own ways.
And though they didn't know it yet, that moment would mark the first flicker of something the world had nearly forgotten.
Trust.
---