The air inside the Vault was colder than anything Elara had felt before. It clung to her skin, seeping through her cloak, chilling her bones. Their footsteps echoed against the smooth, dark walls, amplifying every sound until it felt like something was walking alongside them.
Kastor held the torch high, but the light seemed to fall short, swallowed by the oppressive black. "Feels like the walls are leaning in," he muttered.
"They are," Serenya replied. "The Vault shifts itself, guiding—or trapping—those who enter."
Elara's eyes flicked toward her. "Guiding us where?"
"That depends on whether it thinks we belong here."
They passed through a series of archways carved with scenes of war and ruin. Crowns shattered. Cities swallowed by ash. A great beast with scales of glass rising from a pit of fire, its maw open wide enough to swallow the sky.
Elara slowed, staring at one carving where the beast faced a group of warriors. All but one were lying broken at its feet. The last still stood, holding a jagged crown aloft.
Serenya touched the wall. "That's the first crowning. When the Ash Crown was forged to bind the Guardian."
"Guardian?" Kastor asked.
"You'll see," she said grimly.
The passage eventually opened into a vast chamber, the ceiling vanishing into darkness. The floor was polished obsidian, smooth enough to reflect their torchlight.
At the center, a pit yawned wide, its edges lined with chains thicker than a man's torso. The links led downward, vanishing into the shadows below.
Elara stepped closer, peering over the edge. At first, she saw nothing. Then the reflection of her torchlight flickered—only it wasn't from the torch.
Something down there had opened an eye.
The sound came next: a deep, resonant scrape, like stone grinding against glass. Slowly, impossibly, a shape began to rise from the pit.
Glass scales, each the size of a shield, caught the torchlight and refracted it into a thousand shards of color. A head emerged, long and angular, with horns of molten crystal curling backward. Eyes glowed with a pale fire, unblinking, fixed on them.
The Guardian of the Vault.
Kastor stepped in front of Elara, sword drawn. "That's… a big lizard."
Serenya's voice was low and sharp. "That's the thing holding the Vault's secrets in place. The Ash Crown binds it. Without the crown, it will kill us—or worse."
Elara's heartbeat pounded in her ears. The shard in her pouch felt like it was burning.
The Guardian's voice rumbled through the chamber, though its mouth barely moved.
"Bearer of the shard… step forward."
Elara hesitated, but her feet moved without her consent, as if the voice had wrapped invisible chains around her. She stopped at the very edge of the pit, looking into those glass-fire eyes.
The Guardian lowered its head until its breath—cold yet tinged with ash—washed over her.
"You carry a fragment of what once bound me. Do you seek to complete it?"
"Yes," Elara said before she could think.
"Then you must prove you are not as weak as the last who wore the crown."
Without warning, the Guardian reared back and slammed its claws into the floor. The obsidian shattered, and the ground beneath Elara vanished.
She fell, landing hard on another surface far below. Around her, shards of glass jutted from the ground like jagged teeth, forming a circular arena. High above, she could see Kastor and Serenya looking down, their figures small against the light.
The Guardian's voice echoed all around her.
"Face what you fear most, shard-bearer. Only then will I let you pass."
Shadows began to seep from the cracks in the glass. They twisted, writhed, and took shape. First one figure, then two… then dozens.
They were all people Elara recognized. Her mother, coughing in the ash-storm. The villagers who'd turned their backs on her. The friend she'd failed to save during the Ashborn raid. Their eyes were hollow, their voices whispering her name.
One stepped forward—the friend. His face was pale, his lips cracked. "You left me."
Elara stumbled back. "I—"
"You let me burn."
The figures closed in. Their hands reached for her, cold as the Vault's air.
Her chest tightened, panic clawing at her ribs. She wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go.
Then the shard flared inside the pouch, burning against her side. The warmth spread up her arm, and suddenly the whispers turned to hisses.
She ripped the shard free, holding it high. Light exploded from it, cutting through the shadows like fire through paper. The figures screamed and dissolved, the air clearing until only she remained in the arena.
The ground shifted, lifting her back toward the chamber above. She stepped out onto the unbroken obsidian, her breathing heavy but steady.
The Guardian's gaze locked on her again.
"You faced your truth. That will serve you… for now."
Chains rattled, and a section of the floor slid open, revealing a stairway descending into the depths.
"The next fragment lies below," the Guardian rumbled. "But be warned—those who seek it will kill you before they let you claim it."
The stairs glowed faintly, leading into a golden light.
Kastor glanced at Elara. "Still want to keep going?"
Elara looked down the stairs, the shard still warm in her hand. "We've come too far to stop now."
They stepped into the light—and the Vault swallowed them whole.