The second chamber was smaller—fifteen meters across, oppressive despite its size. The air felt heavy here, thick with old grief.
A central pedestal held another projection device, carved from a single piece of obsidian.
Draven activated it with a touch.
Space. Endless void scattered with stars that burned colors they had no names for.
A figure appeared—massive, cosmic-scale, humanoid but wrong in ways that made the mind slide away from details. Its face was obscured by light too bright to witness.
The figure held something: a book. Small in its hands, but recognizable.
The Grimoire of Life.
The figure examined it, turning pages that glowed with living light. Its expression—if it had one—seemed... disappointed.
Then it spoke. Not language. Pure concept that translated in their minds:
"Law of Life. All it does is offer choice. Choice is weakness. This is useless to me."
The figure closed the Codex.
And threw it away.
The Grimoire of Life tumbled through void, through dimensional membranes, through spaces between spaces.
It fell for what felt like hours in the vision, spinning, alone.
Then it passed through a rift—and landed on Theia.
Already displaced. Already wounded. Already exiled.
The Codex's light pulsed once, as though recognizing kinship.
A final line of text appeared in the vision:
"Perhaps here, someone will understand."
The projection ended.
Everyone turned to look at the Grimoire of Life, still floating beside Draven. It hovered motionless, as though waiting for judgment.
Draven stood slowly, walked to it, placed both hands on its cover.
"You were abandoned," he whispered.
The Codex pulsed—not words, just feeling: Found. Not abandoned. Waiting for one who would listen.
Mira's voice was quiet. "Someone threw away a Fragment? Who could discard a law of reality itself?"
Sylvara approached the pedestal, read inscriptions around its base. "Someone who valued dominance over connection. To a being that seeks only control, a law requiring consent would be... irrelevant. Not evil. Just useless."
Draven felt tears he didn't know he'd been holding. "We're the same. Both of us. Thrown into the wrong place. Making the best of it."
He pressed his forehead against the Codex. "Thank you for choosing me anyway."
The Codex glowed warmer—acceptance, companionship, understanding.
Ryl looked away, wiping her eyes. Even the guards shifted uncomfortably, moved by something they didn't fully understand.
The third chamber's entrance bore a warning inscription:
"What follows is shame of those who came before. Remember: understanding prevents repetition. Judgment must include mercy, or history devours itself."
The chamber walls showed progression—carved relief that glowed with faint light, scenes unfolding like a story written in stone.
Year 0 (Post-Displacement):
Civilization shattered. Anomaly zones erupting randomly. Humans and beasts both starving, terrified, scattered. Trust breaking under desperation.
Year 20:
A human discovers Soulsteel forging. Realizes beasts can be "tuned" using resonance. Creates first binding mark. Beast agrees—carved clearly: VOLUNTARY trade, protection for labor.
Year 50:
Binding marks spread. System works initially: partnership, mutual benefit. Images show humans and beasts working together, both marked with symbols of agreement.
Year 100:
First forced binding recorded. Human enslaves beast without consent. Other humans present, watching. None stop it.
Caption beneath: "Desperation erodes all morals, given time."
Year 200:
Forced bindings common. Slave tattoos refined, chains developed. Soulsteel network grows. Original voluntary system forgotten, rewritten as "how it always was."
Year 500:
Dominion rises, formalizes slavery as state structure. Shackler technology perfected. Last free beasts flee to wilds or submit. Culture of control solidifies into law.
At the chamber's center: a pedestal holding a black tablet covered in intricate carvings.
Draven approached, the Codex translating instantly.
Original Binding Mark Schematic.
The design was complex—interlocking runes forming a pattern that pulsed faintly even now. But one section glowed brighter than the rest.
Thea leaned in, engineers flanking her. She traced the glowing section with a gloved finger.
"This clause... it's a release mechanism. The original mark was bidirectional. Beast could terminate the bond."
She looked up, horror dawning. "The Dominion didn't invent slavery. They just removed the exit."
Draven stared at the tablet, jaw tight. "They weaponized our survival instinct. Turned mutual protection into permanent chains."
Mira was already sketching, hands moving faster than thought. "If we know how it was made, we can restore what was removed. We can break every chain. Permanently."
The engineers photographed everything using crystal recorders. Every angle, every rune, every detail.
Ryl stood apart, staring at a relief showing early voluntary bonds. "My grandmother told stories about the before-time. Beasts and humans as kin. I thought they were just stories."
Sylvara's voice was heavy. "All stories were truths once. The question is whether we remember in time to stop repeating."
As they left the chamber, not one person spoke. The weight of their species' shame followed them like a shadow.
The fourth chamber opened into the largest space yet—eighty meters across, carved from a single piece of obsidian. The floor was a relief map of Theia: every continent, every ocean, every mountain range rendered in perfect detail.
And scattered across it: forty-three glowing crystals.
Each crystal marked an anomaly zone.
The walls were lined with alcoves, each holding a crystal data-shard. One alcove per anomaly zone.
Draven approached the Ashen Hollow alcove first—already familiar. He touched the crystal.
It activated, projecting information:
Exact coordinates
Dimensional frequency (stable, Life-resonant)
Safe entry protocols
Recorded evolutions (species that transformed there over centuries)
Danger rating: GREEN (Safe)
The projection matched everything they'd found. Confirmation of accuracy.
Systematic work began. Ryl's scouts photographed the full map using crystal recorders. Engineers extracted portable copies of data-shards. Mira cataloged zone properties in her journal.
Safe Zones (15):
Ashen Hollow (Life resonant)—EXPLORED
Verdant Groves (Life + Time blend)—Sylvara's origin
Crystal Caverns (Space + Light)—Northern mountains
Singing Stones (Sound resonance)—Western coast
Eleven others cataloged with coordinates
Dangerous Zones (20):
The Mourning Fields (Death-aspect contamination)—Southern wastes
Temporal Rift (Time collapsed inward)—Western sea
The Annihilation Crater (Destruction scar)—Eastern desert
Frozen Screams (trapped dimensional echoes)—Far north
Sixteen others cataloged, require Lord+ protection
Unknown Zones (8):
Insufficient data
Scouts never returned
Marked with warning: "Approach only with Fragment-bearer present"
Draven stood at the map's center, looking at the pattern. "We can use safe zones as training grounds. Controlled evolution environments. Beast Speakers could guide willing beasts through transformation safely."
Thea nodded, already calculating. "If we establish outposts at each safe zone... accelerated training programs... we could transform the Covenant's capabilities within a year."
Sylvara touched one dangerous zone marker. "And these... must be studied carefully. If the Dominion—or anyone—weaponizes unstable zones, the results would be catastrophic."
They worked for hours, extracting every piece of data. When they finished, three crates held crystal copies of the entire anomaly network—knowledge that could reshape how humanity and beasts evolved together.
Or destroy them, if misused.
The path downward narrowed. Inscriptions became warnings:
"Below lies memory that should not wake lightly."
"Only Bearer of Fragment may pass the Threshold of Names."
"What sleeps below remembers what we forgot. Disturb with purpose, not curiosity."
The passage ended at a massive circular door—ten meters in diameter, covered in a single glowing symbol.
Life.
It pulsed slowly, like a heartbeat.
Draven stopped, hand raised to touch it. He felt Sylvara's presence behind him.
"You feel it," she said quietly.
"Something's alive down there. Not sleeping. Waiting."
He turned to face the expedition. "I go alone. If I'm not back by midday tomorrow, seal this place and return to Bloomring."
Protests erupted. Ryl stepped forward. "Warden—"
"The warnings are clear. Only Fragment-bearers. I won't risk you for my need to know."
Mira's voice was small. "What if something happens?"
Draven smiled faintly. "Then Brenn becomes Warden permanently, and you write that I died doing what I loved—asking questions no one wanted answered."
He placed both hands on the door.
The Life symbol flared brilliant green. His lotus mark burned in response—light bleeding through his shirt, visible to everyone.
The door didn't open.
It dissolved. Stone flowing like water, reshaping into an archway, darkness beyond that pulsed with living warmth.
Draven stepped through alone.
Notes:
Chamber 2 - Discarded Codex: Cosmic being threw away Grimoire of Life as "useless"; Codex landed on displaced Theia; both exiles finding kinship.
Chamber 3 - Origins of Chains: Timeline from voluntary partnership to systematic slavery; bidirectional binding mark corrupted by Dominion; removal of release mechanism.
Chamber 4 - Anomaly Network: 43 zones mapped (15 safe, 20 dangerous, 8 unknown); strategic training grounds identified; dimensional wounds requiring careful management.
The Threshold: Draven descends alone to Archive Heart; team waits above; warnings clear about Fragment-bearer requirement.
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