The labyrinthine tunnels beneath the riverside trading post were older than the settlement above, carved by hands long since turned to dust.
Muffled by stone and silence, the trio moved swiftly through dim corridors illuminated only by Verik's—or rather, Veris's—crystalline light orb, which hovered silently near her shoulder.
Jack stole a glance at their guide. The revelation had come like a blade slipping from a velvet sheath—unexpected, precise, and quietly dangerous.
"I should have guessed," Lyra had said once they'd reached safety.
"Your movements were too graceful, your voice too tempered. Vexari blood may mask much, but not that."
Veris had chuckled, a sound that now held unmistakable femininity once the illusion dropped. "I was never particularly interested in maintaining the charade," she had replied.
"But men are granted more academic leniency, even among heretics. My theories were already considered dangerous—I had no desire to add gender bias to the list of offenses."
Jack, still reeling, could only nod. The slight figure, once introduced as Verik Solem, had indeed been a fabrication—a scholarly shell for the elf-blooded woman now walking at his side.
Her silver hair, once cropped to masculine severity, had fallen loose beneath the hood, flowing in moonlit strands across her cloak. Her features were unmistakably elven now—elegant, angular, otherworldly.
"Why keep the name?" he'd asked.
"Because Veris Solem is dead," she had said simply. "Expelled, hunted, erased from record. Verik was tolerated long enough to build what Veris could not."
Now, as the three navigated the maze of stone, Jack's mind drifted to the pendant, which pulsed quietly against his chest—resonant, stable, as if recognizing Veris not only as a match, but as a keystone.
"We're nearing the convergence point," Veris said quietly, her voice cool and focused.
"What is it, exactly?" Jack asked.
She tilted her head slightly. "A dimensional vortex. Not a true portal, but a thinning between realms. Most scholars deny its existence. I, of course, did not."
"And it's stable?"
Veris gave him a wry glance. "No. But it is navigable—if one knows the harmonic frequency of the entry point."
Jack was about to press further when Lyra raised a hand, signaling silence. The air ahead vibrated faintly, a thrum like plucked strings echoing through the stones.
Then came the scent: ozone and cold, as though winter had found a place to sleep beneath the earth.
They stepped into a domed chamber. The walls shimmered with embedded quartz veins, which reflected the orb's light in fractal patterns.
At the center lay a depression, circular and black as pitch, carved with glyphs Jack only partially recognized from his father's notes.
"The vortex," Veris said, almost reverently.
"It waxes and wanes with the twin moons. This is a waxing phase—strong enough for limited traversal."
"To where?" Lyra asked.
"Settlement Seventeen," Veris said. "Or rather, beneath it."
"There's a shrine forgotten by history, built by the Order of Echoes—an ancient sect that once believed in cultivating through resonance rather than force. They were dismantled centuries ago. The Conclave buried them… literally."
"And that's where we'll be safe?" Jack asked.
Veris smiled. "It's where we'll find your next candidate."
Jack's heart stuttered. "There's another?"
Veris nodded. "A Vexari archivist. She's never left the shrine. Born into seclusion, raised among echoing stones and memory threads. If anyone understands the true nature of harmonic cultivation—it's her."
Lyra glanced at the vortex. "How long do we have before the guards find the entrance?"
Veris frowned. "Not long. The lower tunnels aren't marked, but they have dogs, and the scent of magic will linger."
Jack drew a breath and nodded. "Then let's move."
Veris stepped forward, extended her hand over the glyphs, and began to hum. The sound was subtle, a minor chord at first, then a growing harmony that reverberated through the stone. The glyphs answered—glowing, shifting, synchronizing with her pitch.
Then, with a low groan, the black circle opened.
It wasn't dramatic—no flare of light, no explosion of force. It simply became absence. The floor no longer existed in that space, and what lay beneath was… a distortion. Colorless, directionless, a tunnel not through earth, but through resonance.
Veris turned, offered her hand to Jack. "Don't resist the flow. Let it take you. Your matrix will stabilize us."
Jack took her hand. Lyra took his. Then together, they stepped into the void.
...
...
The sensation was not falling. Nor flying. It was shifting—like moving sideways through time. Jack's mind struggled to categorize it, but the matrix did not.
The pendant blazed at his chest, and somewhere inside, he felt Tarkhan's memories blend with his own, creating a bridge wide enough to carry all three.
Then they were elsewhere.
Light returned slowly.
They emerged in another chamber, this one constructed of pale stone shot through with veins of violet crystal.
The air was cool and dry, scented faintly of incense and dust. Above, a dome opened to reveal slivers of the twin moons through a skylight carved in overlapping spirals.
Veris sagged slightly, gripping Jack's arm for balance. "We made it," she said breathlessly.
"Where are we?" Lyra asked.
"The Heart of Echoes," Veris replied. "The sanctum of the lost sect."
Jack turned slowly, absorbing the space. It was not abandoned. Faint lights glowed along the perimeter, and he could sense movement—soft, deliberate, like the shifting of silk.
Then she appeared.
A woman stepped into view from behind a tall plinth. She was… ethereal. Vexari, clearly, but unlike any Jack had seen. Her skin was dusky blue, her eyes opalescent silver.
Her hair, long and braided with metal threads, shimmered like liquid moonlight. She wore robes the color of deep water and moved as if gravity was a mere suggestion.
"I heard the chords," she said. Her voice was like wind through chimes. "You opened the old song."
Veris inclined her head. "I am Veris Solem. This is Jack Morrison, bearer of the harmonic matrix. And Lyra, former shield of the Empire. We seek sanctuary—and wisdom."
The woman studied them. "You bring change. I have felt its weight across the threads of resonance. The matrix awakens."
"You know what it is?" Jack asked.
"I was born knowing," she replied. "My name is Caeli. I am the last Chanter of the Echoes."
They were granted rest.
The sanctum extended beyond the chamber—a network of halls, libraries, and gardened courtyards, all sealed from the world above. Caeli led them to a chamber of soft light and offered tea brewed from petals that shifted color in the steam.
"Why have you remained here?" Lyra asked, cup in hand.
"Because my voice would not survive the world outside," Caeli said simply. "And because I guard the final verse of the Order."
"What is that?" Jack asked.
Caeli looked at him, truly looked, and Jack felt the matrix stir.
"A resonance that binds not only cultivators, but worlds," she said. "A song lost when the Conclave rose. Your matrix—your father's legacy—it seeks to restore what was silenced."
"And you?" Jack asked.
She stepped closer. "I am the third harmonic. The final chord."
The pendant flared—not with heat, but with a thrumming vibration that echoed Jack's pulse. It resonated with Caeli. More than with Veris. More than with Lyra. It completed something.
Caeli placed her hand gently over the crystal. "The melody returns."
Jack could feel it then—not just energy, but alignment. A triangulation of frequencies. Each bearer a node, each voice a thread in a growing weave.
Then the world outside intruded.
A tremor shook the chamber.
"They've found the vortex," Veris said sharply. "Forced an opening."
"They'll follow the path," Caeli added. "But the gate won't hold their minds. Most will lose their thoughts in the flux."
"Some will survive," Lyra said, already rising.
"Then we must go," Veris said.
Jack hesitated. "Go where?"
Caeli touched the crystal again. "To the place where all harmonics converge. The Conclave must fall—but not by force alone.
The old world must be healed, not shattered. There is a citadel hidden in the northern peaks, beyond the Shattered Expanse. It was once the heart of the Order."
"And now?"
"It is silent. But the echoes remain."
Jack met the eyes of his companions. Veris—sharp, brilliant, veiled in truth. Lyra—grounded, resolute, broken but unbowed. And Caeli—mystic, melodic, a bridge to forgotten truths.
He nodded. "Then we begin the ascent."
From the depths of lost songs to the heights of broken stars, the journey continued.
And the matrix sang.