The journey back to the upper halls of Vaelgard felt colder than the descent into the crypts. Silence pressed against Kaelen's ears like a shroud. Even Seralyn, who had always spoken to fill the dark, said nothing.
The words of the ancient Archivist echoed through Kaelen's mind:
"What the gods buried is not dead. It breathes. It waits."
And worse — "The other half lies where the flame was stolen…"
He could not grasp the full weight of it, but something in his chest twisted.
They ascended through the stone corridors, past sacred murals and dead-eyed statues of forgotten saints. Kaelen barely noticed the ancient beauty. His thoughts clawed at something unseen, something that refused to show itself — like a blade sheathed in shadow.
They reached the inner cloisters of the Citadel. The High Seers were waiting.
Three of them. Hooded. Still. Surrounded by flickering braziers that smelled of sweet rot.
Kaelen bowed stiffly."We found the wall. The Ash Prophecy speaks of two who will stand before the Throne of Night."
One of the Seers turned, though he did not raise his hood. His voice was brittle, ancient."You are not meant to know those words."
Seralyn stepped forward."Then why place them beneath Vaelgard?"
A pause. The silence after her question felt like judgment.
"The prophecy was broken for a reason," the Seer said. "Half-truths guard deeper truths. The wall is not your path."
Kaelen clenched his fists."If Vorath once fell for love, not power, as the words say—"
"Lies spoken by stone," the Seer snapped.
But the others did not echo him. They remained still. Almost afraid.
That night, Kaelen could not sleep. He wandered through the quiet temple halls, until the candles thinned and the air tasted of forgotten dust.
Seralyn found him at the threshold of a sealed chamber — one she had only read of in forbidden pages.
The Chamber of the Veiled Flame.
Together, they pressed open the stone door.
Inside, a massive mosaic sprawled across the floor — a sun eclipsed by shadow, surrounded by falling crowns and swords of light snapped in two. At the center lay a sigil — black, like Nox Obscura. He had seen it on Vorath's blade.
Seralyn touched it. The air grew heavy. And the whispers returned.
"He waits. He sees. He remembers."
Kaelen backed away."Why do I feel like this was never our war?"
Seralyn whispered, barely audible."Because maybe it wasn't."