The city's morning hum felt almost peaceful — a stark contrast to the chaos lingering in Kael's mind. Neon reflections danced on rain-slick streets as he and Rykas moved through the lower districts of Voltixol Prime.
"Old Archives should be this way," Kael said, guiding them down a narrow alley lined with abandoned storefronts. "The municipal database isn't going to help — this is the kind of place where knowledge older than the Accord hides."
Rykas walked slightly behind, his gaze sweeping constantly. Silent as a shadow, he carried the weight of experience that Kael had come to trust. No commentary, no jokes — only quiet vigilance.
The Archives' entrance looked unremarkable: a weathered steel door tucked between two maintenance ducts. A faded emblem — a golden droplet surrounded by six smaller circles — was engraved above it.
Kael touched it lightly. The metal vibrated faintly under his fingertips.
"Still reacts to the pendant," he murmured.
Rykas gave him a careful look. "You ready for whatever's inside?"
Kael nodded. "We don't have a choice."
The door slid open with a groan. Dust rose in motes, catching faint streaks of sunlight streaming from a cracked skylight. The air smelled of old paper, metal, and the faint tang of residual energy.
Rows upon rows of shelves stretched into darkness, stacked with scrolls, metallic tablets, and glass canisters filled with swirling motes of suspended light.
"Records of the Oils," Kael whispered. "Everything from their first arrival to the last known vessel."
Rykas' eyes narrowed. "And you think Eryndor left something here?"
Kael knelt beside a pedestal at the center of the room. Etched into it were the same three interlocking circles as the pendant: light, shadow, and time.
"Not think," Kael said. "I know he did."
A thin holographic projection flickered to life as Kael touched the pedestal. Ancient runes spiraled around them, each symbol humming faintly in resonance with the pendant.
"It's… mapping something," Rykas muttered. "Look at the way the symbols move."
Kael's eyes followed the lines. Patterns overlapped, creating shapes that reminded him of the city, of the stars above Voltixol, even… of Eryndor himself.
"Coordinates," Kael said suddenly. "Or… a timeline. Not just a place — a moment in time."
Rykas frowned. "A moment in time? Are you saying Eryndor might be stuck… in the past?"
"Possibly," Kael said, standing. His voice was steady, but inside he felt a twinge of fear. "Or someone's trying to erase him before he can do anything."
A low hum grew louder. The pendant pulsed violently against Kael's chest. Lightning arced faintly from his fingers, illuminating the dusty floor.
"Careful," Rykas said, eyes scanning for traps. "That thing's more than just jewelry. It's reacting to you."
Kael nodded. "It's a key — to the Verse, and maybe to more."
Following the projection, Kael traced a pattern on the floor. The runes pulsed, then slid apart to reveal a narrow staircase leading down into darkness.
"Basement levels," Rykas said. "Nobody's been here in decades."
The air grew colder as they descended. Faint echoes bounced off the stone walls, carrying whispers that weren't quite sound. Kael's hair stood on end. He could feel it — the pendant thrumming with life, as if aware of the energies ahead.
At the bottom, a small chamber awaited. Ancient murals lined the walls: battles between humans and Aurelians, the first kings of the Oils, and the Mother Oil itself glowing above them. The figures moved subtly, like shadows caught between moments.
"The Verse," Kael whispered. "This is where it started… where the knowledge was hidden."
In the center of the room sat a crystal pedestal. A book hovered above it, glowing faintly. Its pages turned slowly on their own, stopping on a single verse:
"When the Vessel awakens, time shall bend.
Shadows and light shall choose their kin.
The forgotten shall rise, and the world shall witness
The spark that carries the dawn anew."
Kael reached out instinctively. The moment his fingers brushed the text, the pendant blazed white-hot. The symbols on the walls ignited in perfect synchrony.
Rykas moved instantly to stand beside him, sword faintly shimmering with elemental energy. "Kael… steady."
"I… feel it," Kael said. "Not just the pendant… me. Something is stirring. I think… the Vessel is waking."
The air vibrated. The murals shimmered and warped. For an instant, Kael glimpsed Eryndor — younger, smiling, but chained by shadows. He vanished before Kael could call out.
"He's here," Kael whispered. "Somewhere. And he's… trapped."
The pendant's pulse slowed. The chamber settled into silence, leaving only the faint hum of ancient energy.
Kael exhaled slowly. "We follow the trail. No matter what it takes."
Rykas nodded, moving beside him like always — silent, loyal, unshakable.
The Forgotten Verse wasn't just a story anymore.
It was a map, a warning, and a call to action.
And Kael had no intention of ignoring it.