There were no torches in the chamber.
No lamps. No glowing glyphs.
Only the orb of memory, floating above the Architect's hand like a silent sun.
Juno stood at Lyle's side, every muscle taut.
The Architect didn't move—yet the Codex flipped in Lyle's hand like it had a mind of its own.
> Page 001.
Blank.
Then a flicker of ink.
> A name: Kirrith Mourne.
A title: Original Host.
A fate: Consumed by Script Echo.
Lyle blinked.
"What's a Script Echo?"
The Architect's voice came slow, like stone dragged over more stone.
"It is the shadow of every spell ever cast using the Codex."
"That's not how spells work," Juno said.
The Architect turned its faceless gaze toward her.
"That's how lies work. The Codex is the lie."
---
He stepped forward.
Not walking. Not gliding.
Just becoming closer.
And placed one finger on the Codex's cover.
The book lit up—not with fire or magic, but memory.
Not Lyle's.
The Codex's.
---
The world folded around them.
Suddenly, they weren't in the chamber anymore.
They were standing in a field of shattered towers, beneath a black sun that bled sideways across the sky.
Dozens of mages ran across fractured land, shouting glyphs that tore their own mouths.
One by one, they collapsed.
Books—Codices—tumbled from their hands.
And behind them came the Echo.
Not a monster. Not a god.
Just… text.
Glyphs in the shape of a man. A woman. A thousand faces.
Changing.
Adapting.
Feeding on what it read.
Juno gripped Lyle's arm.
"This is a memory. But it's alive."
The Architect's voice whispered through the air.
"It always was."
---
The vision collapsed inward.
Back to the chamber.
Both of them staggered—sweating, pale.
The Codex flicked to a new page.
This one blank.
Until a new title etched itself in—
> Greenbottle, Lyle.
Status: Inheritance Phase One Complete.
Codex Integrity: Compromised
Counter-Echo Potential: Unlocked
Juno read it out loud.
And then said:
"That means… you're being trained to stop the thing that killed them."
The Architect nodded.
"No. He is the thing."
Lyle froze.
"What?"
"You are the next iteration. Not just the wielder… the mirror. The Codex doesn't teach you to survive it. It teaches you to finish becoming it."
---
Silence followed.
Then Juno stepped in front of Lyle.
Between him and the Architect.
"No."
"Explain."
"Now."
The Architect did not flinch.
"The Codex is not a book. It is an equation. One that needs a host. And a bond. The only way to control it… is to split it."
> "Two minds. One path. One must lie. One must remember."
Juno's hand shook.
"So you put this in a boy."
"He chose it."
"No," Lyle said quietly. "I cried on it."
"And it chose you."
---
The orb of memory dimmed.
The Architect stepped back.
"You have until moonrise to choose," it said.
"Return to the world above… or continue this descent."
Then, it vanished.
Not blinked.
Not walked.
Just ceased.
Leaving them in silence.
---
Juno turned to Lyle.
"You said you wanted to finish what your parents started."
He nodded.
She stared at him.
Then—softly—asked:
"Are you still you?"
He didn't answer.
Because deep inside, he didn't know anymore.