The vault's air was heavy, as though the very stone had inhaled and was holding its breath.The fractured Echo Core floated above the plinth, bleeding light in weak, irregular bursts, like the final beats of a dying heart.
Obavva stared at it, gripping her onake so tightly her knuckles ached. Bhairav limped beside her, his eyes darting around the now-darkened chamber.
"This thing," he said quietly, "is it... safe now?"
"No," Obavva replied. Her voice was steady, but her gaze never left the Core. "It's never safe. It just sleeps."
From somewhere deep within the walls came a sound — not the mechanical hum of the Archive, but something more ancient.A knocking. Slow. Deliberate. Three beats. Then silence. Three beats again.
Bhairav stiffened. "That's… not possible. There's nothing outside these walls but solid rock."
Obavva stepped toward the plinth. The mirrored walls that once showed distorted reflections now shimmered like pools of liquid shadow. In each reflection, she saw a different Obavva — some older, some younger, some with blood smeared across their faces, some smiling with victory.
But in one reflection, there was no Obavva at all.
Only a door.
She moved closer to that wall. The reflection rippled, and the door in it slowly swung open without sound. Cold wind spilled into the chamber, carrying a scent that did not belong to this time — damp earth, burning oil, and something metallic.
"The Final Gate," a voice whispered, not from the chamber, but from inside her head.
Obavva froze. The voice was Velarani's — the original Defender's — but softer now, stripped of rage.
"Beyond it lies the archive's true exit… and its curse. Cross it, and you will not return to this moment. You will not return to yourself."
Bhairav's eyes darted from her to the wall. "What do you mean, not return to yourself?"
But Obavva didn't answer. Her steps carried her forward, the mirrored surface cool under her fingertips. It rippled like water, and her hand disappeared into it.
Inside the door was a corridor lit by fire in sconces that hissed and flickered against walls carved with scenes of endless battle. She recognized some — the siege of Chitradurga, the defense of the river crossings, the night raids into Hyder Ali's camps — but others were alien. They were wars not yet fought.
Bhairav followed reluctantly. "Where does this lead?"
"To the part of the Archive that keeps the future," she murmured.
The corridor ended in a vast circular chamber. At its center was a stone wheel, twenty feet high, embedded into the floor. Around its rim were etched countless names — some ancient, some modern, some she recognized from her own time.
And near the top of the wheel, she saw it.Her own name.
Bhairav cursed under his breath. "This… this thing tracks the Defenders."
"No," Obavva said, eyes fixed on her name. "It chooses them."
The wheel rotated slowly, the grinding of stone echoing like thunder in the enclosed space. As it turned, names faded from the rim, replaced by new ones written in fire. Every time a name faded, she heard a faint scream, distant and muffled, like a soul being pulled into deep water.
Her name began to glow.
Bhairav stepped forward. "What happens if it picks you again?"
Before she could answer, the knocking sound returned — only this time, it was coming from inside the wheel.
A hairline crack appeared along the stone, spilling out a blinding white light.The wheel shuddered, and a shape began to press through the crack — a hand, skeletal and burning with the same fractured light as the Echo Core. Then a face, hollow-eyed and grinning.
The Shadow had returned.
But this time, it wasn't Velarani's rage that shaped it.It was something older. Hungrier.
Obavva lifted her onake, planting her feet."This gate," she said, "stays shut."
The skeletal figure stepped free, the light pouring from its joints like molten metal. Its voice was the sound of stone breaking.
"You can't close what was never meant to open."
It lunged.
The chamber exploded in light and sound.
To be continued....