The Architect's answer came slowly, each word deliberate, as though even speaking it aloud carried risk.
"It discovered you first."
The silver flame that lived within Aether's chest â€" the quiet, constant warmth of his Flame Memory, present ever since he had first begun walking this path â€" flared violently at the words, twisting and writhing in a way it never had before. For one horrifying instant, the silver light darkened, bleeding into something closer to black, a color that felt wrong in a way Aether had no words to describe, before shuddering back into its familiar silver glow.
Everyone in the chamber froze, staring at the place where the flame lived beneath his skin.
"The forgotten Ninth Principle," Aether whispered, pieces beginning to align in his mind even as the full shape of the truth remained maddeningly out of reach. "It's connected to this. Isn't it?"
The Architect's expression grew grave.
"You weren't searching for the Ninth Principle," he said quietly.
