Deep beneath Zenithia, below the five spiraling rings, below the Glyph Archives and even the Veinforges… there was a layer untouched by sun or soul for a thousand years.
The Spiral called it The Root Chamber.
And at its center stood Aevor.
Buried beneath glyphsteel and sealed inside a sarcophagus made from fractured Seedstone, Aevor hadn't moved in centuries.
But now, the Veins screamed.
⸻
Kael had arrived.
⸻
The Spiral Codex's emergency subroutines began to crack.
In the Throne Beyond Form, chaos reigned.
"All rings are reporting movement," barked Tyress, pacing beneath the Codex. "He's gathered more than two hundred rebel Soulweavers in less than a day."
"They're not rebels," Aeralis hissed. "They're seekers."
"Call them whatever you want," snapped Elarin, slamming his fist against a rune console. "If he reaches the Core Vault's final seal—"
"He'll reach the Root," Lumina finished.
The Soulblind stood at the edge of the chamber, silent, watching.
Waiting.
⸻
Below, Kael and his crew passed through the inner ring's abandoned corridors. The atmosphere was dense with old glyphlight and silent alarms. This was not the Spiral's show floor.
This was where they hid the mess.
"Feel that?" Sorell asked, scanning the shadows. "It's like walking through someone's dead memory."
"It's more than memory," Ryn said. "This is where they buried power they didn't understand."
Lira's grip on her blades tightened. "So what happens when it wakes up?"
Kael stopped.
And turned.
"It doesn't wake."
He touched the wall — veins flaring with gold-laced Void — and the entire corridor trembled.
"We wake it."
⸻
The Vault's Final Seal was a structure called The Spiral Gate.
Ten stories tall.
Built from living crystal and pulsing veins of soulmetal.
As Kael approached, the threads rippled.
Glyphs twisted out of alignment, realigning around his presence.
Recognition.
The Gate was… accepting him.
⸻
In the Throne Beyond Form, Tyress watched in horror. "That gate only responds to Spiral Lords."
Voress laughed softly. "Then perhaps we've already been replaced."
⸻
Inside the Root Chamber, Aevor stirred.
The sarcophagus split.
Black threadlight seeped into the floor like ink bleeding into snow.
From inside, a figure rose — not quite human, not quite soulform.
His body was covered in armor made of fused Seedshards.
His face was veiled in a transparent mask etched with the glyph for 'Sacrifice.'
And his eyes—
His eyes were Kael's.
But inverted.
⸻
"Where is he?" Aevor whispered.
The glyphs on the walls answered.
"He comes."
⸻
Kael stepped into the Vault.
Soulthread flared around him like a storm of silk and fire.
Lira followed close behind, twin glyphs rotating around her shoulders like moons.
Sorell's coat buzzed with kinetic energy, his lightning coil spinning faster with every step.
Ryn remained silent, her attention locked on the sarcophagus at the room's far edge.
And then the pressure changed.
A soundless quake rippled across the floor.
The sarcophagus began to unfold.
And Aevor stepped out.
⸻
They stared at each other.
Kael and Aevor.
Not brothers. Not enemies. Something else entirely.
Reflections of a split history.
One forged in freedom.
The other forged in chains.
⸻
"You were the first," Kael said.
Aevor tilted his head. "I was the mistake."
"No," Ryn said, stepping forward. "You were the prototype."
Lira looked between them. "What does that make him?"
"The iteration," Aevor replied.
Kael narrowed his eyes. "You remember the Collapse?"
"I am the Collapse."
⸻
The Spiral Lords watched from the Codex chamber. The Soulblind took a single step forward.
"That's it," Elarin said. "Activate planetary lockdown. Seal all Vein Corridors. Purge the archives."
"You can't purge this," Thern said. "It's happening with or without us."
Aeralis touched the Codex.
"Then we survive it."
⸻
Back in the Vault, Kael and Aevor circled each other.
No weapons drawn.
Just tension thick enough to rip threadspace.
"You're not the enemy," Kael said.
"I was made to be."
"I'm breaking the Spiral to fix it."
Aevor stepped closer.
"And what will you build in its place?"
Kael didn't flinch. "Something honest."
Aevor smiled.
And attacked.
⸻
Their clash was soundless.
Veins detonated on impact — their Soulthreads coiling, colliding, bending reality around them.
Kael shifted into Fracture Mode: eyes burning, skin laced with glyphfire, Void swirling like a mantle around him.
Aevor struck with bone-crushing precision — every move a calculation drawn from Spiral memory archives.
They were mirrors. But Kael fought from pain.
Aevor fought from design.
⸻
Lira launched a fire seal toward Aevor's back — only for it to dissolve on contact.
Sorell struck with a chainbolt. Useless.
Ryn tried to glyph-bind him to the floor. He walked through it.
"He's absorbing the Codex's permissions," Ryn realized. "He is the Spiral now."
Kael's voice roared through the chaos. "Then I'll tear the Spiral out of him."
⸻
They collided again.
And this time, Kael struck true.
Right through the Veincore embedded in Aevor's chest.
It cracked.
Aevor stumbled.
"You… are stronger than design predicted."
"Because I wasn't designed."
Aevor looked up.
Smiled.
Then dropped to one knee.
"I yield."