For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
The chamber hummed with the fading energy of the book's awakening, but a deeper stillness settled above it—an expectant silence, like a breath held by something ancient.
Rafi was the first to move.
He touched Naren's arm lightly, as though afraid the contact itself might break something fragile.
"Naren… say something."
Naren didn't.
His eyes were locked onto the four words written in a hand he had sworn never to see again.
YOU ARE NOT DONE.
Done with what?
Her?
Their past?
His fate?
Or something worse?
He felt the stone beneath his feet tilt—no, not the stone, him. An imbalance inside his chest, the kind that came before either a collapse or a revelation.
He inhaled slowly.
"We leave," he said.
Rafi blinked. "W-what? But—this place, the writing—your mother—"
"Not now."
"But the book—"
"Not. Now."
The tone was final.
Rafi bit his lip, nodded, and stepped back.
Naren closed the book gently, as though afraid the pages might crumble. Or bite. Or speak again.
But before he could lift it, the floor beneath the dais trembled.
Rafi yelped. "Is that—bad?!"
"Yes," Naren said.
The tremor grew louder—lower—like a growl rising from the depths of the earth.
The shadow-being flickered violently.
"You must go."
"Why?" Naren demanded.
"This chamber… awakens guardians… when truth is taken."
Rafi paled. "We took truth. We did take truth. That's definitely bad."
The floor cracked.
Blue veins of light flared, brightening like veins filled with fire.
And from beneath the dais—
A sound rose.
Not a growl.
A voice.
Old.
Tired.
Stone scraping against stone.
A whisper deeper than the earth:
"Who calls the First Name?"
Rafi grabbed Naren's cloak. "Naren—why does it sound like it wants to—oh gods—it's coming from the floor—it's—"
The stone circle in the center split open.
Dust and blue light burst upward.
A shape began to rise—massive, carved, ancient.
A head.
A torso.
Arms like pillars.
A body like a fallen monument dragged upright.
A stone colossus.
A Guardian—
but not made of shadow like the one above on the ridge.
This one was carved from mountain.
Its hollow eyes glowed with cold blue fire.
Naren stepped back, sword half-drawn.
The colossus spoke again—its voice a rumble that shook the chamber:
"Which of you bears the First Name?"
Rafi whispered, "I don't like this question."
Naren frowned. "I don't know what it means."
The stone giant's head tilted, cracking as it moved.
"The Name… carved before birth.
The Name… promised at sunset.
The Name… the mother whispered."
The words stabbed into Naren's heart.
He tasted iron on his tongue.
Rafi looked at him, horrified. "Naren… it's talking about you."
The colossus lowered itself, massive stone hands pressing against the cracked floor. Blue light pulsed through its limbs.
"Speak the First Name,
child of the forgotten fire."
Naren swallowed.
"I don't know any 'First Name.'"
Silence.
Then:
"You do."
Its eyes burned brighter.
"Speak it… or be unmade."
Rafi panicked. "NAREN—NAREN WHAT NAME—WHAT NAME IS IT TALKING ABOUT?!"
Naren didn't answer.
Because he did know.
A name he had buried.
A name he had sworn never to speak again.
A name whispered to him only once—
by his mother—
as the sun bled into the horizon and fate sharpened its teeth.
Rafi stared at him, trembling. "Naren… what is it?"
Naren's hand shook around the hilt of his sword.
His pulse pounded like a drum inside his skull.
He whispered—
"I don't want to say it."
The colossus shifted, cracks crawling up its chest.
"SPEAK."
The chamber shook.
Dust fell like ashes.
Rafi shouted, "Naren, say it or we're dead!"
The stone giant roared—
"FIRST NAME!"
Naren squeezed his eyes shut.
A breath.
A heartbeat.
A memory:
"If you ever find the place where the sun cannot move…
call yourself by the name I gave you."
He opened his eyes.
And for the first time in years,
his voice broke:
"…My name is Aarinen."
Silence.
The stone colossus froze.
The chamber dimmed.
Rafi stared, speechless. "A-Aari—what—your name is—?"
Naren didn't look at him.
Because the colossus was bowing.
Slowly.
Deeply.
Reverently.
Stone knees cracked against the floor.
Blue light radiated outward like a shockwave.
The colossus spoke—
Not a threat now.
Not a demand.
A vow.
"Aarinen son of Sera,
the path opens."
A section of the chamber wall split open silently, revealing a long, dark tunnel descending further underground—its entrance glowing faintly like the throat of something vast.
Rafi stared in horror. "There's… more?!"
Naren didn't move.
Rafi touched his arm carefully. "Naren… Aarinen… what does this mean?"
Naren's voice was quiet.
Too quiet.
"It means," he said,
"my mother wasn't just someone the world forgot."
He sheathed his sword.
"And it means the world didn't forget me either."
He stepped toward the new passage.
Rafi swallowed. "And me?"
Naren looked at him—really looked at him—eyes shadowed by realization and fear and something like resolve.
"You follow," he said.
Rafi let out a shaking breath. "Of course."
Together, they stepped into the dark.
Behind them, the stone colossus lowered its head one final time.
Aarinen.
The name echoed through the chamber like a prophecy waking from sleep.
And the tunnel swallowed them whole.