The deeper Zafira descended, the heavier the air became. The labyrinth beneath Ashara seemed alive, breathing in time with the pulse of the Covenant. Shadows stretched unnaturally, twisting into shapes that whispered forgotten names and half-remembered events.
At the center of the underground chamber, a pool of still water reflected a light that did not exist above ground. Zafira approached, ring glowing, and peered into its surface.
There he was—Arman. His silver eyes flickered within the water, trapped in a realm between past and present. His form shimmered, tethered to the Covenant but unable to move freely.
"Zafira…" his voice echoed, though the sound was distant, fractured. "I've waited… but the city is changing too fast. Some memories resist, some… rebel."
Zafira knelt beside the pool. "I'll free you, Arman. But I need to understand how. What happened to you?"
"I was bound by the execution," he said, voice soft yet urgent. "The oath gave me existence, but the city… it fragmented my essence. Only someone who can merge memory with will can release me fully. Only the Covenant, guided by you, can undo the binding."
The shadows around them shifted violently, as if sensing the rising power. A low hum rose from the walls, whispering warnings. "Not everyone wants him free," Arman continued. "Some ancient guardians within the city—hidden factions, older than even the Sultan—seek to keep me trapped. They believe my knowledge could destabilize everything."
Zafira's hand tightened around the ring. "Then we confront them. Together."
"Be careful," Arman warned. "The deeper you go, the more the city tests you. Some truths will be too heavy for one to bear. The Covenant can guide—but it will not shield you from choice."
Suddenly, the water in the pool rippled. From its surface emerged a figure cloaked in black, eyes like molten silver, moving with silent precision. "You cannot release him," the figure said, voice layered with echoes of past rulers. "The balance of Ashara depends on his confinement. You do not yet understand the cost."
"I understand enough," Zafira said firmly. "Ashara's truth is not meant to be hidden. If the city is to remember, no one—including you—can stand in its way."
The figure raised its hand, summoning shadows that shot toward Zafira like arrows. She lifted the ring; blue fire erupted, meeting the shadows, twisting them into shapes that bowed to her will. The Covenant hummed in resonance, guiding her, lending strength.
Arman's voice called through the pool. "Merge your intent with the ring, Zafira. The Covenant can carry me back—but only if you do not falter."
Zafira inhaled, steadying herself. She extended her hand, allowing the blue light to surge, pulsing outward to touch the water, the shadows, and the trapped memory of Arman. The chamber trembled, walls cracking, mirrors shattering into fragments of light and ash.
A scream echoed—not of pain, but of recognition, of centuries of memory waking.
Arman emerged from the water, whole again, yet his eyes carried the weight of everything he had endured. "It's… done," he whispered, stepping onto solid ground.
Zafira smiled faintly, exhausted. "Welcome back. But we have much work ahead."
From the shadows, the figure in black recoiled, yet vanished into the darkness. "This is far from over," it hissed. "The city will choose… and many will not survive the reckoning."
Zafira and Arman exchanged a determined glance. Above them, Ashara pulsed with memory, alive and awakening, but the true test—of power, loyalty, and truth—was just beginning.