The stairs swallowed the light behind them.
Only Manraj's steps illuminated the descent—each one triggering pale symbols that flared awake beneath his feet, then dimmed as soon as Zoya and Azhar passed over them.
Almost like the vault was tracking him specifically.
Not them.
Just him.
Zoya stayed at Manraj's left side, her Silence prickling against her skin, reacting to the corridor's ancient hum.
Azhar stayed on the right, every shadow taut—ready to lash at anything that moved wrong.
The tunnel curved downward in a slow spiral, each turn sinking them deeper beneath the riverbed… deeper beneath the city… deeper beneath everything they thought they understood.
Manraj felt it first.
A pulse.
Not like the sphere earlier—this one was colder.
Older.
Measured.
"Do you feel that?" he asked quietly.
Zoya nodded. "Rhythmic. Like something… waiting."
Azhar's shadows trembled.
"That's not a heartbeat. That's a seal checking if you belong here."
"Do I?" Manraj whispered.
Zoya looked at him.
Her voice softened.
"We're about to find out."
---
At the Bottom
The staircase ended in a massive chamber.
Round.
Hollow.
Perfectly smooth.
Like something had carved it in a single breath.
The walls glowed faintly with white runes—organized in concentric rings, spiraling inward toward a central pedestal.
On that pedestal sat an object.
A stone.
Small.
White.
Still.
The moment Manraj saw it, his chest tightened.
Something inside him leaned toward it.
Not fire.
Not silence.
Something deeper.
Zoya noticed instantly.
"Manraj, stop."
He froze mid-step.
Azhar moved beside him, eyes narrowed at the pedestal.
"That stone," he murmured, "shouldn't be here."
Zoya frowned. "What do you mean?"
Azhar didn't look away from it.
"Because it belonged to the third companion."
Manraj sucked in a breath.
"The white being…?"
Zoya's hand tightened around Manraj's sleeve.
"That wasn't Eirys. That was something fractured. But this—this is—"
Azhar finished the thought:
"This is the piece of Silence they ripped out of him during the ritual."
Manraj's pulse thundered in his ears.
"Then why is it here?"
Zoya stepped closer to the pedestal, her voice low.
"Because they had to hide it somewhere the gods couldn't reach."
The chamber trembled faintly—almost a warning.
Azhar grabbed Zoya's sleeve.
"Don't touch it. If that stone recognizes you—your Silence—it could wake the rest of the vault."
Zoya paused.
"…What happens if it wakes?"
Azhar's shadows curled tighter.
"It remembers everything."
Manraj swallowed hard.
"Everything like… the ritual?"
Zoya whispered:
"Everything like what they did to you."
The stone pulsed once—white glowing through the cracks.
Manraj flinched.
"It's reacting to me."
Azhar nodded grimly.
"It knew you before fire did."
Zoya turned toward him.
"Manraj… if you touch that stone, you might remember everything at once."
He forced a breath.
"Maybe that's what we need."
Zoya stepped in front of him instantly.
"No. Not like this. Not all at once. Brains aren't built for—"
But the stone pulsed again. Stronger.
A low hum spread from the pedestal across the entire chamber.
Azhar's face drained of color.
"That's not a welcome. That's an alarm."
Zoya turned sharply.
"Alarm for what?"
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The runes along the walls began to rotate—slowly at first, then faster, rearranging themselves into new patterns.
Patterns in the shape of—
Zoya's breath hitched.
"…wings."
White wings.
The chamber's voice—old, layered, broken—rose like distant thunder:
"THE SILENCE-BEARER RETURNS."
Manraj stumbled backward as the stone on the pedestal cracked open—
light leaking out like bleeding memory.
Zoya grab
bed him.
Azhar summoned every shadow he had.
The chamber roared:
"THE ERASED TRUTH MUST BE RESTORED."
White light erupted—
and something inside the pedestal began to rise.