The forbidden archives were not hidden.
They were forgotten.
Buried beneath the east wing of the academy, behind a door that had no key — only a question:
> "What is the cost of memory?"
Lyra answered without hesitation.
> "Everything."
The door opened.
The Descent
Juno lit her flame.
It flickered blue — the color of old magic.
The stairs spiraled downward, carved from obsidian and bone.
Each step whispered.
Not words.
Names.
Lyra clutched her book. "They're stitched into the stone."
Juno nodded. "This place remembers everyone who's entered."
Lyra paused. "Do you hear that?"
Juno frowned. "No."
Lyra's voice was hollow. "It's saying my name."
The Archive of Unmaking
The chamber was vast.
Shelves floated in midair, suspended by threads of light.
Books pulsed like hearts.
Scrolls hissed when touched.
And in the center — a loom.
Not for cloth.
For memory.
Juno approached it. "This is where they stitched the first ones."
Lyra opened her book.
A new page had appeared.
> "The stitcher was not a person. It was a pact."
The Pact
They found it in a sealed tome bound in skin.
No title. No author.
Only a stitched spiral on the cover.
Inside, a single phrase repeated:
> "To stitch is to bind. To bind is to forget."
And then, a name.
Not written.
Etched into the page with blood and fire.
Aurex Vell.
Juno recoiled. "That's impossible. He was a founder."
Lyra's hands trembled. "He was the first stitcher."
The Betrayal
Aurex Vell had not created the towers to protect knowledge.
He had built them to bury it.
Each tower was a lock.
Each stitched one, a key.
And the fifth tower?
It was the vault.
Juno whispered, "He didn't want to preserve magic. He wanted to erase it."
Lyra's book bled again.
> "The stitched ones are memory incarnate. And memory, when awakened, becomes truth."
The Loom Reacts
The loom began to spin.
Threads of light wove a new tapestry.
A face emerged — not Aurex's.
Cassian's.
And behind him, the stitched child holding fire.
Juno stepped back. "It's showing us what's coming."
Lyra's voice cracked. "No. It's showing us what already began."
The Final Thread
The tapestry unraveled.
A single thread floated toward Lyra.
She caught it.
It burned her palm.
A new glyph seared into her skin — the same spiral, now broken.
Juno stared. "You've been marked."
Lyra nodded. "The tower chose Cassian."
She looked at the thread.
"But the archive chose me."