The hum grew louder.
It wasn't sound at first — more like a pressure in the skull, a vibration in the teeth, the rattle of bones against marrow. Jorn whimpered in his sleep, clutching Nalia's tunic, his small face twisted as if in pain. Tomas groaned, covering his ears though there was nothing to hear.
Elara's sun-eye blazed faintly in response. She felt it like a tide rising under her skin.
"It's the lattice," she whispered. "Not chains this time. Not hollow ones. Something deeper."
Seris turned slowly in the ruins, bow drawn, eyes scanning the shadows. "Where's it coming from?"
"Everywhere," Marek said grimly, tightening his grip on his sword. His jaw flexed. "And it's getting closer."
The ash shifted.
At first just a trickle, like sand stirred by wind. Then the whole plaza rippled, stones grinding as the ground itself shuddered. Cracks split open, threads glowing faintly beneath.
And then they rose.
Figures of ash.
Not flesh, not bone — but statues formed from the dust of the dead, shaped by the lattice into mockeries of life. Faces smoothed, arms elongated, their movements flowing like smoke caught in a jar.
Their mouths opened.
The hum became a song.
Low, droning, endless. It burrowed into the survivors' skulls, rattling their thoughts loose. Seris cried out, loosing an arrow that passed straight through one without slowing it. Nalia clutched Jorn tight, whispering prayers with shaking lips.
Tomas staggered forward, fire sputtering from his hands. "They're not… alive," he gasped. "They're echoes. The lattice remembers the dead."
Elara felt it too — the threads coiling around her heart, pulling at her memories. For a moment, she saw her mother's face in the ash, eyes hollow, mouth opening in the same endless song.
She screamed, blasting light from her sun-eye. The nearest ash-figure unraveled, scattering into dust.
But more stepped through the cracks, dozens, their song growing louder.
Marek charged, swinging his blade. The ash-figures cracked, split — but reformed around him, swirling like smoke. They reached with hands like claws, pulling at his armor, his flesh. He roared, fighting to break free, his scars lit by the glow of the threads.
"Elara!" he shouted. "Now would be a good time for that fire of yours!"
Her sun-eye blazed again, searing pain ripping through her skull. She unleashed a wave of golden light, ash exploding outward in a storm. The song faltered — but did not stop.
And in its wake, the cracks spread wider.
Far below, Kael fell to his knees.
He heard the song too. But here, in the Citadel's streets, it was not distant. It was deafening. The walls themselves vibrated with it, golden veins pulsing in time with every note.
He staggered to his feet, chains dragging, eyes burning. Ahead, shapes moved.
Not hollow ones. Not reflections.
Keepers.
Tall, robed figures with faces hidden in veils of thread. They glided along the Citadel's streets, their hands clasped, their voices woven into the song. Everywhere they passed, the walls brightened, the silence deepened.
Kael's reflection smiled beside him. "The choir welcomes you. Every king needs a crown, and every crown needs a hymn."
Kael spat blood, his voice hoarse. "I'll burn your hymn to ash."
But his voice was drowned in the song.
Above, Elara dropped to her knees, clutching her skull. She could feel Kael's pain, his rage, his voice lost in the same song that battered her thoughts. Her breath came in ragged gasps.
"They're calling him," she whispered. "The Citadel's choir. They're binding him."
Seris hauled her upright, eyes wide with terror. "Then fight it! If you don't, we're all dead!"
The ash-figures closed in, their song swelling until it filled the night.
And Elara screamed, her sun-eye blazing brighter than ever, as the threads of the song tried to drag her into silence.
The ash-figures swayed as one, their mouths wide, their song stretching into infinity. The sound clawed inside the skull, eating memory, gnawing thought.
Nalia dropped to her knees, clutching Jorn. Tears streamed down her face as she cried out names that weren't real, whispers forced into her throat. "Mother… I hear you, I hear you…"
"Don't listen!" Marek bellowed, his sword swinging in wide arcs. Each strike cut through an ash-body, scattering its form, but they re-formed behind him, their gray limbs weaving back together. His sweat stung his eyes, his arms shook, but he kept swinging.
Seris fired arrow after arrow, but every shot was swallowed in their bodies, shafts protruding from dust. "They don't die!" she screamed, her voice drowned by the chorus.
Tomas staggered, fire flaring in his trembling hands. He thrust it outward, a wave of flame consuming three figures at once — only for the fire to gutter and die as the ash re-formed, burning embers glowing inside their hollow chests.
The song grew louder.
Elara pressed her palms to her ears, but it was inside her now, vibrating in her bones. The sun-eye pulsed, fighting it, but every pulse tore more blood from her. She coughed, crimson spilling over her lips, staining her teeth.
Then she saw it — her mother's face, clearer this time, formed in the ash before her. Eyes empty. Lips moving with the same endless hymn.
"Elara," it whispered, though no sound touched the air.
Elara's knees buckled.
"No," she gasped.
The figure reached for her, arms stretching unnaturally, threads unraveling into her chest. For a moment, she felt warmth — the memory of a hand on her cheek, lullabies sung in gentler days.
Her heart faltered.
"Elara!" Seris screamed, loosing another arrow, breaking the vision.
The ash collapsed back into faceless form. But the pain remained.
Far below, Kael fought the same song.
It wrapped around him, chains pulling tighter as the keepers advanced. Their robed forms glided, veiled faces tilted toward him. Every note they sang tugged at his thread, pulling him toward the throne he could not yet see.
He roared against it, muscles straining, chains biting deep into his wrists. "I won't sing your hymn!"
The reflection smiled serenely. "You already are."
The keepers raised their hands in unison. Threads spilled like rivers from their palms, wrapping the air, filling the Citadel's streets with golden fire. Each strand pulsed with a memory not his own — lives burned, names forgotten, voices woven into the lattice.
Kael's head filled with screams that weren't his. He dropped to his knees, blood running from his ears.
And above, Elara screamed with him.
Her sun-eye flared, a golden explosion ripping outward. The ash-figures staggered, their song stuttering for the first time. Their mouths closed, their heads snapping toward her.
The silence after their song was almost worse.
Elara swayed, barely able to stand, her veins glowing with faint light. Her voice cracked as she forced the words out: "These aren't… people. They're memories. Bound in ash. They're feeding the Citadel's choir."
Tomas spat blood, grimacing. "Then break the hymn."
The ash surged toward her.
Marek lunged, hacking wildly, his blade ringing with each strike. "Do it! Do it now!"
Elara's vision blurred. She could feel Kael below, the chains dragging him toward the keepers, the song hollowing him out. Their threads twined together, pulsing.
She screamed — not in fear, but in defiance.
Her sun-eye burst like a second dawn.
Light tore through the ash-figures, unraveling them, ripping their bodies into dust that scattered on the wind. Their song shrieked into silence, echoing through the valley, shaking the ruins apart.
Stone cracked. The obelisk fragments shattered again. The earth itself trembled.
And for one heartbeat, the silence broke.
Kael gasped, chains slackening, the keepers' song faltering. He felt her — bright, burning, refusing to yield.
"Elara," he whispered, strength surging.
The reflection snarled, crown flickering. "No!"
Above, Elara collapsed, the light gone. Her body shook violently, her skin pale, blood seeping from nose, ears, and the corner of her eye. Seris caught her before she struck the ground, holding her upright.
"Elara! Stay with me!"
Marek stood trembling, chest heaving, his blade lowered. He stared at the empty plaza, dust settling. No figures remained. Only silence.
But even silence felt alive now.