The pedestal burst open.
Not shattered—unfolded, like a flower blooming out of stone.
Blades of white light unfurled from within, sharp and soft at the same time, illuminating the vault in spiraling arcs.
Manraj staggered backward, Zoya pulling him by the wrist, Azhar dragging them both further from the pedestal as a shape rose from its heart.
At first, it looked like smoke.
Then bone.
Then wings.
White wings.
But not like the fractured entity from the cavern above—
this one was smaller
denser
heavier
as if condensed from every memory the world had tried to erase.
Zoya whispered, voice trembling:
"…Eirys."
Azhar's shadows recoiled, sensing something older than them.
"That's not Eirys," he said sharply.
"That's a fragment. The first shard they tore out before the ritual."
The being lifted its head.
No face.
No eyes.
Just a smooth surface of white light rippling with ancient echoes.
But it looked at Manraj.
Every rune on the walls froze—
then realigned toward him like iron filings pulled by a magnet.
Manraj's new dual-iris eyes burned—amber and white flaring in sync.
Zoya tightened her grip.
"Manraj—don't move—"
He wasn't moving.
The being was pulling him.
Not physically.
Memory-first.
A low humming filled the vault.
Not threatening.
Not welcoming.
Recognizing.
The being floated off the pedestal, wings folding like pages turning in a forgotten book.
A voice—pure pressure—filled the chamber:
"THE BEARER WHO WAS DIVIDED RETURNS."
Manraj pressed a hand against his chest.
His flame sputtered.
His silence trembled.
He whispered, "It's calling me back."
Zoya stepped in front of him.
"No. If you go to it right now, it's going to overwrite you—like that sphere tried to do."
Azhar planted himself beside her, shadows spiraling outward like barricades.
"You want him? You go through us."
The fragment paused.
Then spoke again:
"YOU STAND BEFORE THE LOST CORE.
YOU CANNOT PROTECT WHAT WAS NEVER YOURS."
Zoya's face hardened.
"He isn't yours either."
The entire chamber shook.
Runes spun faster.
Water dripped from somewhere unseen.
Something deep beneath the vault answered the awakening.
The white being hovered closer, ignoring the shadows lashing in front of it.
It reached out—
one hand forming
crystallizing
solidifying into a glowing palm.
Toward Manraj.
Azhar shouted:
"DON'T LET IT TOUCH YOU!"
Manraj didn't move.
He was frozen—not by fear, but by recognition.
He whispered:
"…I know you."
The being's head tilted.
Light flickered across its form as if searching for language.
Zoya grabbed his shoulders and shook him.
"Manraj—HEY—stay with me—"
But the vault answered instead.
Red symbols suddenly ignited beneath their feet—the fire rune set—flaring violently.
Azhar's shadows whipped backward as if slapped.
Zoya's Silence recoiled so hard she gasped.
Manraj felt the heat roar under his skin.
White and orange sparks crawled across his arms like living veins.
The being spoke again, louder:
"THE CORE IS INCOMPLETE.
RESTORATION REQUIRED."
Zoya snapped:
"Restoration of WHAT? His brain? His memories? His entire ELEMENT?"
The being rotated its hand—
palm facing upward.
A small sphere floated above it.
White. Pure. Pulsing.
The other half of the stone.
Zoya whispered:
"…It's giving it back."
Azhar's eyes widened.
"No—
that's not a gift.
That's a MERGE."
Manraj's heart slammed against his ribs.
The sphere drifted toward him.
Zoya moved to block it—
but the light passed through her
as if she didn't exist.
"Manraj—DON'T—"
Too late.
The sphere touched his chest.
White detonated.
His knees buckled.
His breath ripped out of him in a gasp of fire and cold.
Azhar shouted his name.
Zoya screamed.
The vault dimmed—
every rune extinguishing
every line of light collapsing inward
every ring of symbols folding into silence.
The white being whispered the last words before everything went dark:
"THE CORE REMEMBERS THE FIRST NAME."
And Manraj collapsed.
Unconscious.
Not breathing.
The vault lights died completely.
Zoya caught him before he hit the floor, panic slicing through her voice:
"Manraj—MANRAJ—!"
Azhar pressed his fingers to Manraj's throat.
"No pulse."
Silence crushed the room.
Then—
From Manraj's chest—
something glowed.
Not fire.
Not silence.
A third color.
A color none of them had ever seen.
Zoya
whispered, horrified and awed:
"…What did it wake in him?"
Azhar swallowed hard.
"Not what," he said.
"Who."
The vault trembled once, deep and final.
They weren't alone anymore.
And whatever woke inside Manraj—
remembered everything.