The cave stretched deeper than the others, older than the ruins that had seen before.
Sylen's boots scuffed the slick obsidian floor as he descended carefully. The air felt heavy, laden with soot and an ancient magic that seeped deep into one's bones rather than dissipating. The walls seemed alive, softly pulsing and resonating with long-neglected spells.
Crenna moved ahead, one hand resting near her blade. Neither of them spoke a word, not since the last site where the etched symbols had vanished like wax under an unseen flame. Here, silence was not mere absence of sound; it felt observant.
They reached the center of the cavern.
At its centre stood a monolith, cracked and humming softly. Symbols crawled along its surface, shifting as if they couldn't decide which language they belonged to.
Sylen stepped forward, his voice quiet. "It doesn't look like a crack, it's more like a wound."
Crenna stayed back. "Do you think it's hers?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pulled the obsidian shard from his coat pocket, feeling its faint pulse; the rhythm of something older than memory. He lifted it toward the stone.
The moment it made contact, the monolith reacted. Light erupted with gold and red colours, like a star igniting in reverse. The chamber screamed with an old memory.
Sylen staggered, clenching his jaw as the vision hit him hard.
A corridor veiled in flame.
A hand in his, silver-thread bound.
A voice whispering, "You'll lose the game if you cheat the Veil, Sylen." Her laughter, sharp, bright, aching in a way he hadn't expected.
A pendant rested against her chest.
Then—nothing.
The silence crashed over him like a wave, leaving him on one knee, gasping for breath.
Crenna was at his side instantly. "Sylen—hey—are you alright—what happened? Talk to me."
His eyes burned faintly, galaxies flickering behind them.
"I—I saw her," he whispered.
Crenna's fingers tightened around his arm. "Esme?"
He nodded. "Not fully… but she's reaching through. The Veil doesn't forget its own."
Opening his palm, he looked down. The shard was gone, either consumed or fulfilled, but something else remained. The ache in his chest was old, sharp, without any pain. It was more like a recognition.
"She's returning," he murmured. "Piece by piece."
Crenna exhaled slowly, the weight of it pressing into her thoughts. "Should we contact Zaire?"
Sylen gave a small shake of his head. Then, for the first time in days, he smiled. Not his usual grin, this one was softer, a more genuine smile touched with hope.
"He already knows," he said. "He's with her, he's helping her remember."
Crenna stared at him for a moment, then nodded. Sylen rose, more steadily this time.
"We're all being pulled back," he said. "Things are about to change soon, and we all should be prepared for what awaits us."
His gaze lingered on the monolith.
"Just let her remember everything and then…" He left the thought unfinished.
He didn't need to say more.
Though the flame in the stone dimmed, its warmth lingered, as if acknowledging her name.
* * *