Chapter 11 – The Map of Chains
The doors of the Hollow Archive shut behind them with a groan that echoed like the closing of a tomb.
The sound rolled down the stone corridors until it vanished into silence, leaving the group in darkness
broken only by the faint glow of carvings etched into the walls. The air was heavy and stale, filled with
dust that clung to their throats. Even Kael, who usually never stopped muttering, said nothing.
The place demanded quiet, as though words themselves were unwelcome.
Arin's Eye opened without his will. He gasped softly as the world before him shifted.
Threads filled his vision—countless lines of faint light, weaving through the walls, curling along the floor,
and hanging like cobwebs from the high ceiling. They were not bright like living threads,
but faded, like echoes of something that had once been alive. Each one pulsed with fragments of memory.
They brushed against him as he walked, whispering voices too faint to understand.
For every step he took, the Archive seemed to take a step with him.
Kael rubbed his arms and hunched his shoulders. His voice was low but sharp.
"I don't like this. Feels like the place is breathing. Like it's waiting for us."
Selene's hand tightened around the hilt of her blade. She looked over her shoulder, her expression stern.
"Quiet. The walls here remember. If you disturb them, they may disturb us back."
But Darius, at the front, was almost trembling with excitement. His eyes were wide,
reflecting the faint glow of the stone. His fingers brushed over the carvings as though they were precious.
"This is no tomb," he whispered, reverence in every syllable. "This is a record.
A place of memory. The Order could not destroy what was written here, so they buried it instead.
The Archive remembers what they wanted forgotten."
The corridor opened suddenly into a vast chamber. The ceiling curved high above into a dome,
its surface is etched with thousands of glowing marks. The walls too were covered with them—
panels carved into stone, each one pulsing faintly with light.
From a distance, it looked like a map of stars,
but as Arin's Eye adjusted, he realized what they truly were.
They were maps—maps unlike any he had ever seen.
Not of rivers or forests or mountains, but of lives.
Threads connected names and faces across the panels, stretching from one wall to another.
Some threads glowed faintly, others flickered like dying embers, and many had already gone dark.
Arin's heart hammered as he saw sigils like his own mark repeated again and again across the chamber.
Every face, every name belonged to someone who had carried the Eye.
People like him. Hundreds of them. Perhaps thousands.
Their stories were carved into this place, glowing in the dark like wounds that refused to heal.
Selene stepped forward slowly, her face pale.
"What is this?" she asked, though her voice sounded more like a prayer than a question.
Darius answered with a trembling smile.
"This is the truth they tried to erase. The Order has hunted the bearers of the Eye for centuries.
They bound them, silenced them, destroyed their names. But here, the memory survives.
Here, their voices cannot be silenced."
Arin's breath caught as he moved closer. His fingers hovered over the carvings.
Each face he saw was a stranger, yet he felt the pull of their lives in his chest.
He saw their deaths, their chains, the moment their threads had been cut.
His knees grew weak beneath the weight of so much sorrow.
It was as though every Eye-bearer across history stood before him, their eyes fixed on his.
And then, his gaze fell on one mark brighter than the rest.
It pulsed strongly, calling to him. His hand rose without thought.
"Arin, wait!" Selene warned, but her voice reached him too late.
His palm pressed against the glowing panel.
Pain exploded through his hand, racing up his arm and into his chest.
Chains of fire coiled around his palm, burning into his flesh.
He cried out, the sound echoing in the vast chamber. His knees buckled,
and he fell hard against the stone floor. The smell of scorched skin filled the air.
The others rushed to him, but the chains only grew tighter.
He gasped, his teeth clenched against the agony.
Selene grabbed his shoulders, trying to pull him back.
"Let go! You'll kill yourself!"
Arin shook violently, sweat pouring down his face.
His Eye flared wider, and suddenly, he was no longer in the chamber.
Visions flooded him. Faces of Eye-bearers long dead screamed in silence.
Chains wrapped around their throats, their wrists, their eyes.
Some begged for mercy, others fought, and all ended in silence.
Every thread snapped with a cry that tore through him.
He felt their pain, their fear, their hopelessness.
It ripped into him until he thought his heart might burst.
And then, it was over. The chains melted into his skin, leaving behind a deep black scar etched across his palm.
The mark glowed faintly before fading to a smoldering ache.
Arin gasped, shuddering, his breath ragged. He clutched his hand, staring at it in shock.
Darius knelt beside him, eyes wide with wonder.
"No, Selene. Look at him. This is no curse. It is a gift. A key.
The Archive has chosen him. It has given him knowledge none of us could carry."
Selene's eyes burned with anger.
"Knowledge? Or a chain you cannot see? Don't fool yourself, Darius.
This place does not give without taking. You would have him broken for the sake of your obsession."
Kael's face twisted in fury. He pointed a shaking hand at Darius.
"You keep pushing him! You wanted him to touch that wall.
You knew it would hurt him! If he dies here, it will be your fault!"
Arin forced himself upright, though his hand still burned.
He staggered but managed to stand. His vision was blurred by pain,
but his Eye still followed the threads. He looked back at the map, searching.
Among the countless broken lines, one faint thread still glowed.
It flickered weakly, but it was alive. His heart stopped.
Leira. Her thread.
"She's here," Arin whispered, his voice hoarse but steady.
"I see her. She's deeper in the Archive. She's alive."
The chamber seemed to react to his words. The glow of the panels flickered,
as though stirred by his vow. The whispering voices rose for a moment,
swirling around the group before fading again into silence.
It was as if the Archive itself was listening, weighing his promise.
Kael's jaw tightened. "Alive or not, this place is twisting us.
We need to get out while we still can."
"No," Arin said firmly. He held up his scarred hand, the mark black against his skin.
"I can feel her. I will not leave without her."
Selene exhaled slowly, eyes still hard.
"Then we move forward. But mark my words, Arin—if this place takes you,
I will not let it take the rest of us. We follow, but we will not follow blindly."
Kael muttered but did not argue. His eyes lingered on Arin's hand, mistrust clear in his face.
Darius smiled faintly, though his expression carried its own shadows.
"Every step brings us closer. The truth waits, and the truth will set us free."
Arin closed his fist, feeling the scar throb like a brand.
Every beat of his heart whispered the same vow: *I'm coming, Leira. Hold on.*
The group fell into silence as they turned toward the dark passage at the far end of the chamber.
The glow of the panels faded behind them, leaving only whispers to follow.
The Archive was not finished with them. It had only just begun.