Evening descended slowly over Serethis, as though the sky itself hesitated to let the second moon rise. Pale gold light trickled across the palace stones, catching on the silver towers, the whispering banners, the watchful gargoyles that perched along the balconies. Everywhere, the air held a strange, quiet pressure—neither danger nor peace, but expectation.
Illyen found himself standing at the edge of the eastern garden, where the lilies had just opened to greet the twilight. A cool breeze rustled through the petals, brushing against his cloak like a familiar touch. He inhaled deeply, steadying the rhythm of his heart. Tonight, they would enter the House of Echoes—a place where memory and time twisted like tangled threads.
He wasn't afraid, but there was a heaviness in his chest he couldn't name.
A soft step sounded behind him.
"You're already prepared," Cael said gently.
Illyen turned. Cael stood illuminated by the last rays of dusk—hair tied loosely, sword sheathed, eyes steady. His presence felt grounding, like the center of a storm that refused to move.
"I couldn't stay still," Illyen admitted. "The longer we wait, the more the House feels… awake."
Cael walked beside him, gaze drifting over the lilies. "Astrae says the Loom's ripples have doubled since morning. If Vaenn truly stirred, the House will respond the moment we step inside."
Illyen swallowed. "Do you think it will hurt? The memories?"
Cael paused. "Maybe. But they're ours. Whatever they show us… we'll bear them together."
Illyen looked away, heat rising faintly to his face. "You've said that twice today."
"It will never be untrue," Cael replied softly.
Before Illyen could answer, footsteps approached.
Esthara, Lysa, Astrae, and Maerin crossed the garden path, each carrying supplies. Their expressions reflected the same mix of readiness and unease.
Esthara stopped first, rolling her shoulders. "The Queen ordered extra guards at the outer gates. No one enters or leaves the palace grounds tonight without her approval."
Lysa smirked. "She knows us too well. Probably expects us to come back carrying half the House with us."
Astrae tapped her monocle. "If the House lets us. Its corridors bend logic. The route glyphs will be essential."
Maerin nodded, adjusting her stack of scrolls. "I've traced the glyphs from the earliest records. They should keep us anchored to the present. In theory."
"In theory?" Lysa raised a brow.
Maerin flushed. "It's the House of Echoes. Nothing there is certain."
Illyen stepped closer. "We trust your work, Maerin. Truly."
She relaxed slightly. "Thank you, my lord."
A bell tolled in the distance—low and resonant.
The second moon was rising.
Esthara straightened. "It's time."
Cael glanced at Illyen. "Ready?"
Illyen exhaled slowly. "Yes."
They left the garden and began the walk toward the Forbidden Wing—the sealed path leading to the House of Echoes. Torches flickered along the walls, casting wavering shadows that danced around the group.
As they approached the entrance, Queen Lyrienne stood waiting, her cloak shimmering like liquid moonlight. Behind her, two royal guards held ancient lanterns relics used only for rites tied to memory and the Loom.
"Before you depart," the Queen said quietly, "I must speak."
The group bowed deeply.
She turned her gaze toward Cael and Illyen—soft, steady, and filled with a complicated tenderness.
"Your bond has awakened something older than Serethis itself," Lyrienne said. "Whatever truth waits inside the House may challenge you… or free you. Do not run from it."
Cael bowed his head. "We won't."
Lyrienne turned next to Esthara. "Ensure no one interferes. Not even the Council."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"And Lysa," she added, "keep them alive."
Lysa grinned, tapping her sword. "With pleasure."
Astrae stepped forward. "We will return before dawn."
The Queen nodded once, then lifted her hand. The guards unsealed the Forbidden Gate—a slab of obsidian carved with symbols older than Serethis. As it groaned open, a gust of cold, ancient air washed over them.
Cael stiffened.
Illyen felt it too.
The House was calling.
⸻
Inside the Forbidden Path
The corridor beyond the gate was narrow, lit only by the guards' lanterns. Dust hung in the air like suspended stars. Every step echoed unnaturally, as though the walls swallowed sound and returned it reshaped.
Maerin unrolled her first scroll. "Place the route glyph here."
Astrae pressed a glowing sigil onto the floor. Light rippled outward, stabilizing the corridor's form. The walls straightened. The air warmed slightly.
"These glyphs will mark our path back," Maerin explained. "Without them, the House could alter the way behind us."
Illyen suppressed a shiver. "So it chooses who comes and who leaves."
"Yes," Astrae murmured. "And what they remember."
They continued walking, laying glyphs every few meters. The corridor slanted downward subtly, the air growing colder but sharper—filled with a metallic scent like old wind.
Finally, the passage opened into a wide cavern hollowed beneath the palace foundation.
And there it stood.
The House of Echoes
An immense structure of marble, glass, and obsidian—a building that looked half-ruin, half-awake. Its pillars twisted like spiraling ribbons. Its windows glowed faintly with moonlight that didn't reach this deep underground. Vines of silver threaded along its doors, pulsing softly like veins.
Illyen whispered, "It's… alive."
Cael stepped forward, voice calm. "It reacts to memory. To truth."
A rumble passed through the chamber, as though the House acknowledged him.
Esthara drew in a sharp breath. "It knows you."
"No," Cael said quietly. "It knows us."
He reached for Illyen's hand without thinking.
Illyen didn't pull away.
The House's glow brightened.
Lysa stepped beside them. "Well, it likes romance. Good sign."
Illyen turned scarlet. "Lysa—!"
Astrae sniffed. "It responds to resonance. Not romance."
"Same thing," Lysa said with a shrug.
Maerin cleared her throat. "We should… enter."
Cael and Illyen stepped toward the massive silver-veined doors. As they approached, the doors began to move—slowly, reverently—opening without a single touch.
Inside was darkness.
Not empty darkness, but darkness that felt aware. Listening.
Illyen's pulse fluttered.
Cael's voice reached him softly. "Stay close."
"I will."
They crossed the threshold.
The others followed.
The doors closed behind them with a sound like a held breath.
⸻
The Halls That Remember
The entrance chamber was vast, lit by floating shards of glass that glimmered with faint images—whispers of memories not their own. Footsteps echoed strangely, as though each sound split into two, three, four versions that drifted away through unseen corridors.
Astrae held up her monocle. "The House is testing us. It wants to see what we carry within."
Maerin placed another glyph. The ground trembled, stabilizing.
Lysa scanned the hall. "Which way first?"
Before anyone could choose, a soft glow emerged in the center of the room.
A thread of light.
Silver-white.
Floating.
Illyen felt his breath vanish. "The Loom."
Cael stared, eyes wide. "It's guiding us."
The thread drifted gently, weaving through a doorway to their right.
Illyen reached out, fingers hovering near the light. It pulsed once—as though greeting him.
He swallowed. "Let's follow it."
They moved as a group, deeper into the House. Every step felt heavier, as though the air held memories that brushed against their skin. Some hallways showed flickering scenes—shadows of children running through gardens, soldiers marching through storms, lovers clasping hands beneath night skies.
But none were full memories.
Fragments only.
The truth was deeper.
The thread led them down a sloping hall, toward a vast door etched with two symbols intertwined: a crown, and a lily.
Illyen stopped.
His heart pounded.
Cael's voice was barely a whisper. "These symbols… they were ours. Before the Veil."
Illyen touched the door. A flash pulsed behind his eyes—two children laughing, a hand reaching for his, warmth, sunlight—
He gasped.
Cael caught him, gripping his shoulders. "Illyen?"
"I saw something," Illyen whispered. "Us. Before."
The House shuddered—as though excited.
Astrae stepped close. "It wants to open your memories. Let it."
Cael swallowed. "Together, then."
He placed his hand beside Illyen's.
The door glowed.
A soft, blooming resonance filled the air—the same warmth as the Observatory, but deeper, older. The door unsealed.
Beyond it waited a chamber of mirrored glass, reflecting countless versions of themselves—Illyen and Cael as they were, as they had been, as they might have been.
And at the center stood a single pedestal.
Upon it rested a crystal sphere.
Inside the sphere—
A memory swirled.
Not a fragment.
A complete one.
Illyen stepped forward slowly. "This is what it wanted us to find."
Cael's voice was quiet, almost reverent. "The first truth."
Astrae inhaled sharply. "Be careful—once you touch the sphere, the memory will pull you in completely."
Lysa tightened her grip on her sword. "We're right behind you."
Esthara nodded firmly. "Whatever you see—we'll protect you."
Maerin whispered, "This is the heart of the House."
Illyen reached out.
Cael took his hand first.
Their fingers interlaced.
Together—
They touched the sphere.
Light exploded.
To be continued.