True to the messenger’s word there was an entrance to the sewer just outside of the inn. Scrambling down the ladder, Valkra and Frostclaw jumping the relatively short distance, they managed to slip the grate back into place before anyone happened by. The sewers flowed with the slow trickle of normal runoff and the showering influx from the storm raging above. Back on the streets the storm howled through the alleys, the layers of stone and wood muffled its fury. Securely ensconced in the sewer tunnel the air hung thick with rot and mildew due to the aged and cramped passageways.

  Xavier moved to the front of the group, pausing briefly to light a single lantern and holding it low. The dull illumination flickered over wet walls, and rusted pipework that cast narrow shadows. The movement of the light and the cascade of rainwater made those shadows skitter and dance like fleeing ghosts and specters. Taking a steadying breath Xavier proceeded down the tunnel following the map that had been provided. He said nothing as he walked, words were not needed, each step they took had a growing weight, and every breath held the silence of intense focus.

  Behind Xavier, came Ella, close on his heels. She walked like she was shadow, and purpose made flesh, her steps softy, her eyes aware and constantly moving. Her hands regularly strayed towards either her blades or her bow, never far from one or the other. Despite those motions she remained a steady and grounding presence within the party. Like the others, she didn’t speak. She was there with them and that was enough.

  Lianna came next in line, she was a few paces behind Ella and her face was an expressionless mask that matched her rigid posture. Water dropped on her head and shoulders, clinging to the fur lining of her cloak, but she showed no response or even notice to the distraction. Ever since her blade had ended the life of Mekal’s she had grown quieter and more introspective. She wasn’t exactly distant, more locked behind a wall of her own construction that she wasn’t ready to lower. Frostclaw padded at her side. His steps, even in the water that regularly lined the bottom of the passageway were silent as snowfall of his native home. Only the occasional huff revealed his discomfort at their current situation.

  Sihri brought up the rear of the party, her Leporini frame stepped lightly on the stone. Long ears twitched at every creak and splash that sounded in the environment as her eyes scanned the gloomy tunnels behind them. She moved in silence like the others, however, her fingers occasionally twitched as if she were preparing to throw a punch or clench as she fled. Either instinct had served her well in the past and the tension had adrenaline flooding her veins in preparation for which ever response was needed.

  Valkra, the small and silent shadow that she was, darted back and forth through the group, her twin tails twitching and swaying as she moved. Her head regularly raising to sniff the air, tense and watchful of her adopted family.

  Xavier paused and looked at the map that Lythara had drawn and sent to them. It had brought them deep into the sewer systems forgotten tunnels. The smell of iron and runoff lay heavy on everything around them, though beneath that scent something older lingered. An aroma of scorched dust and blood-soaked stone. Old death and pain still held unnaturally to these tunnels. Xavier could feel the presence in his chest, a pressure of being watched even though nothing was there.

  Moving again brought them to a turn that led to a wider tunnel, in the near distance two broken support beams jutted from the wall, the similarity of broken tusks was unmistakable.

  “We’re getting close to the cistern indicated,” Xavier spoke and motioned to the beams. “According to the map it is just ahead.”

  “It is quiet, too quiet,” Sihri said softly. “Even for a sewer.”

  Ella could not help but nod in agreement even though she didn’t voice her concerns. Behind them a faint splash echoed as if the sewer heard them and was trying to make up for the lack of noise. The sudden reverberation caused Lianna to stiffen.

  Sihri’s long ears angled the direction of the sound and after a moment she whispered. “Not pursuit, just runoff. I think the storm is working in our favor and keeping our absence harder to track.”

  It wasn’t pursuit that Lianna had tensed in fear of, and the party knew it. They could feel it in the tension of her shoulders, in the quiet glances and nudges that Frostclaw kept giving her. The great cat was checking his mistress was still anchored to the present with them and not dwelling in the past.

  Xavier slowed slightly letting Ella pass him briefly as he matched pace with Lianna. “You alright?” He asked her softly, his voice cast low for her benefit. He did not push or move too close, just offering space and support.

  Lianna hesitated, then nodded a single sharp and short nod. “Just… remembering.”

  Xavier did not press the Iskari on the situation. Instead, he glanced further back to Sihri and catching the Leporini’s eye. She gave him a slight nod acknowledging that she would remain their rear guard and keep the haunted woman as safe as possible. He then moved back to assume the vanguard and as they moved the tunnel narrowed again before it opened into a large moss-covered archway. Beyond it a faint light flickered softly.

  Xavier held a hand up to stop the group from moving forward. The map had a lantern image in the center of the cistern though he had not expected it to be lit. “A signal?” He queried, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Ella retrieved her bow from her pack and knocked an arrow, she kept it low and undrawn. Not hostile in nature just ready for whatever might come. Beside Lianna, Frostclaw rumbled a soft growl pulling her attention to the moment. Valkra in turn pressed into Xavier’s leg, her eyes searching the shadows ahead.

  As a group they slowly advanced. Stepping beneath the arch the details of the old cistern came into view; rounded walls were lined with half collapsed shelves and more rusty piping. At the very center of the chamber, sitting atop a large chunk of broken stone, stood a single lantern. It flickered with a pale soft light illuminating the empty space around it.

  Xavier lowered his own lantern as he scanned the shadows lining the walls and niches. Behind and above them the storm raged on, its fury dulled by the layers of stone and earth between them, but it echoed through the depths its strength growing like distant war drums matching the tension and danger that hung in the air.

  The party breathed in the damp silence of the cistern chamber. The lanterns continued casting a flickering light against the moss-covered worn walls. The faint light reflected in the damp puddles that covered large areas of its floor. The scent was faintly tinged with rot and rust making their noses curl slightly when they took deep breaths.

  Xavier, being the first through the arch and into the chamber remained crouched low. He felt his way forward with one hand touching the stone before him as his eyes methodically roamed the distant walls looking for entry points, studying the shadows, examining angles that threats could come from. The weeks of regular fighting had honed his instincts, terrain was primary and emotions secondary when entering a new threatening area.

  The others followed behind him, Ella moving slightly to the side ensuring she would have a larger area of fire if something should attack. Lianna, still vaguely distracted moved opposite of Ella. Frostclaw padded forward cautiously a bulwark between his mistress and the chamber. Valkra remained close to Xavier, her tails twitching nervously as she searched for danger. Sihri, for her part remained near the archway, her eyes and ears moving over both it and the open cistern.

  Xavier raised his hand again causing the group to pause. He could feel something out of place besides just the presence of the lit lantern. As they stopped a soft voice emerged from the shadows in the far end of the room, a space that the light could not quite pierce. The voice was soft, clear, and recognizable.

  “I did not think you would actually come,” Lythara stated as she stepped forward out of the shadow. Her cloak clung to her frame, still damp from the trek through the sewers herself. She wore no glamor and no masks. As she drew closer Xavier could see her crimson eyes shimmering slightly, not the burning infernal hunger but exhaustion.

  “You all but left us a written invitation,” Xavier commented as he held out the crude map her messenger had provided. “Do you have details on where to go from here?”

  Her eyes moved slowly over the group. Ella had moved to stand beside Xavier, relaxed but ready for anything. Lianna stood slightly further back, her expression still hooded but watching what was going on instead of withdrawing again. Sihri stood near the archway, crouched and ready to spring in reaction. The two great cats lingered close to their respective partners; eyes warily locked on the demoness.

  “I do,” Lythara finally replied. “However, you should know security is even tighter now. Halestorm’s men are sweeping through the city block by block. They know outsiders and insurgents are in the city now, you got lucky to avoid them.”

  Xavier thanked the fact he had placed additional points in that attribute silently before responding. “We avoided the streets as you suggested, the entrance to the sewer was barely a stone’s toss from the back door of the inn.” His voice was calm, but Lythara caught the edge behind it, controlled calculation, he was trusting her but only just barely. She handed him a second map.

  “This leads deeper into the catacombs of the city. The original path you followed was meant to keep spies from reaching the inner layers and give me a chance to make sure you were not followed. This one is real and complete.”

  Xavier stepped closer and accepted the parchment without hesitation, scanning its lines carefully he noted that it was much more detailed as it included elevation, collapsed points and even old guard loops. His eyebrow rose slightly as he noticed annotations indicating shortcuts, likely fallback points, and potential kill-boxes as well.

  Ella glanced over his shoulder. “It matches some of the older maps we found as well, I would say it is legitimate.”

  “The Vault lies beneath the southern foundation of the city, deep below the slave markets,” Lythara said. “The most direct paths are trapped or otherwise sealed. However, the old slave tunnels, what’s left of them anyways, cut through the morass and touch on where we need. Most were sealed after one of the slave uprisings to better control them…” She trailed off as she noticed dark and dangerous looks on several faces.

  Sihri frowned her anger barely restrained. “Then what are we walking into?”

  Lythara met her eyes. “History, pain, and secrets that were not meant to be found again.”

  Lianna shifted subtly, jaw tight as she held her tongue having heard some stories about the atrocities committed beneath the streets of Ironhaven.

  Xavier caught Lianna’s expression and quickly spoke before the tension rose further. “You said you’ll guide us?”

  “I can lead you to the threshold of the vault entrance,” Lythara confirmed. “My contract prevents me from getting too close. The binding flares when I approach the Vault. It will stop me unless Ivarik is there with me.”

  Lianna unable to restrain herself further scoffed and crossed her arms. “And we’re just supposed to trust you won’t turn and vanish the moment you lead us into a trap?”

  Lythara didn’t rise to the challenge. She simply looked… worn. “I do not need your trust,” she said. “Only your willingness to go further than I can. Because if none of you do... I stay this way bound without any say in my life. Forever.”

  Her voice didn’t tremble, because the weariness in it was real, there was no need for trembles to express her feelings.

  Lianna didn’t respond, mentally taken aback at the abrupt and unexpected answer. She started to reply but she changed her mind and didn’t push further.

  Xavier nodded slowly. He studied Lythara, not with suspicion but with the calm focus weighing her words carefully and trying to see if there was something more. He honestly believed she wasn’t lying. She was desperate. Not out of fear, but out of the kind of exhaustion that came from enduring constraints for too long.

  “You’ve survived a long time,” he said simply. “And now you want out.”

  “Yes.” Lythara replied her eyes meeting his and flaring with emotion.

  Valkra let out a quiet growl as the energy in the room shifted, and Xavier raised a hand, not just to her, but to the tension in the room. It was a quiet urging for his group to hold and wait. Lythara caught the gesture and visibly calmed herself before she slowly stepped back, hands raised slightly.

  “I’m not your enemy,” she said. “I just want to be free.”

  Xavier’s reply was quiet, measured. “We all do.”

  Those words struck deeper to Lianna’s core, much more than she’d admit. She looked at Lythara again, and this time, something shifted in her gaze, it was not trust, but a grudging understanding. A recognition of something similar.

  Xavier folded the map and handed it to Ella who tucked it away with precision. He had a good idea of the path ahead memorized now and didn’t want to dally longer than necessity called for.

  “Then let’s get moving,” he said. “The storm won’t cover us forever.”

  He had expected Lythara to take the lead and guide them from the room. Instead, the two lantern’s flames hissed softly and cast long shadows over the curved walls. The room began to feel claustrophobic, tighter, as if the very chamber was now listening with intent. No one moved.

  Xavier remained quiet, he didn’t need to say anything yet, he simply watched Lythara and let the nearly oppressive silence work upon her. She remained near the edge of the lantern’s glow. She held her posture with effort, it was not the proud bearing she held above nor was it a posture of fear. She was caged by something that wasn’t physical. He slowly began to recognize the signs of what was going on. She had small twitches in her hands, an occasional catch in her breath. No, she wasn’t lying, and she wasn’t preparing a trap or to strike either. She was suppressing pain.

  Ella was the one to break the silence that suffused the room. “You had mentioned before that your name is stored in the vault. What exactly do you mean by that?”

  Lythara visibly exhaled slowly, her voice was softer and didn’t carry its usual weight now. “My contract, it is not metaphorical. It actually exists and is etched into infernal parchment bound in blood and magic. Ivarik himself sealed it and now holds it stored in the vault below.”

  Xavier lifted his lantern and took a single step closer to the succubus, he motions were not aggressive but deliberate none the less. Under the increased light he scanned her face with quiet determination his eyes catching everything, the micro expressions, the eye movements, the breathing. Though his espionage skill was still low it was starting to help him identify when people were lying to him. This time however, he was certain she believed everything that she was saying.

  Lowering the lantern his next words were soft, almost gentle. “What is in the contract?”

  Lythara’s eyes met his once again resignation reflected in their depths. “Obedience, silence… and pain when I resist.” She hesitated, weighing her next words carefully. “There is one additional line, a clause in the fine print I could never understand. ‘Only one truly unbound can sever this pact.’ That alone stood out from everything else and all of the other contracts I have witnessed.”

  Xavier stilled though his mind raced. He didn’t show his reaction outward, not fully, though he couldn’t prevent a slight twitch in his fingers. Ella had been looking towards him and noticed his shift. Finally, he lifted his hand, breathing deep and slow he placed his fingertips lightly on his chest. Buried under cloth and leather lay the mark of the Kael’Sharyn. It was not glowing and visible beneath the garments, but it didn’t need to be. Xavier could feel the way it responded to her words. Not calling out but strangely it felt more like a key nearing its lock and purpose.

  Lythara took a single pace forward. “I know you bear the Kael’Sharyn mark, as I said I can feel the fracture of your soul with it. It resonates with the pain I have endured for lifetimes.”

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  Xavier didn’t speak yet; his mind was racing with the implications of not just the moment but the meaning of the moment. It was not coincidental that he was the one standing here with her. There was a pattern he couldn’t quite see yet. His mind went back to Danu, and he waffled on her words about fate and choice. These incidents were happening with alarming frequency, and he could not help but have a little more doubt about his own free will because of it.

  When he finally spoke, it was inquisitive in tone as if he was unsure of his words. “I have a trait, something I believe is tied to the mark. It is actually called Unbound Possibilities. Its description says I am guided by the rules of this world but not constrained by them.”

  Hope lit anew in the succubus’ eyes; they shifted over everyone collected then nodded slowly. “Maybe, that is what the clause is referring to?”

  Lianna stirred from her spot, her voice almost a challenge. “Why would a devil leave an escape clause in a contract. They are not known for being lenient or generous.”

  “Because it was never meant to be able to be fulfilled,” when Lythara spoke there was no hesitation. “Infernal laws thrive on absolutes. Ivarik obviously thought no such being could exist. Something, no someone, truly unbound. It was meant to be a cruel impossibility, another torment to be held over me.” Her gaze shifted to Xavier again. “Until now.”

  Xavier took another step towards the succubus. “Even if I can, I don’t know how to break your contract.”

  “But… you might find out,” Lythara said, her voice barely above a whisper as if any loud noise might scare away her last vestige of hope. “And that is much more than I have had in several ages.”

  For several long moments the only sounds to break the silence of the cistern was the steady drip of water in a distant pipe and the reverberation of thunder from above. Finally, Xavier nodded once. It was not a vow or a promise, it was an acknowledgement of the possibility she hoped for.

  “I’ll try,” was all he said.

  Those words released something barely visible in Lythara, but it was something real and tangible. The tension in her shoulders and stance eased and the faint tightness that had lined her jaw loosened.

  Her gaze shifted over to where Lianna stood, “I know what I have been, what I have done, in the past. I do not ask for forgiveness, nor do I make excuses.”

  Lianna didn’t immediately respond to Lythara’s words, but her expression previously stoney cracked ever so slightly. A moment later she gave the faintest of nods, reserved but not dismissive to the succubus’ admission. It was not an outright rejection but recognition of the situation.

  Xavier looked to each of them, he was taking stock not just of their emotional state, but of their readiness. Tactical alignment wasn’t just weapons and terrain. Amongst allies it was trust, vulnerability and shared intent.

  “We need to move soon,” he said quietly. “We stay quiet and move quickly.” His gaze settled on Lythara. “Get us to the Vault and we’ll do the rest.”

  Lythara inclined her head, and for once… she didn’t speak, she didn’t need to. They all understood what needed to be done.

  The corridor they progressed through narrowed further as they group descended deeper beneath the streets of Ironhaven. Its stone walls were slick with ages of moisture and grime and each step they took sent small echoes of their passage rebounding into the darkness ahead. Xavier had taken the lead once again, his lantern held aloft as his other hand rested on the hilt of Vaeltheris. As he moved the light was just enough to barely illuminate the crumbling walls, kept low enough to let them see the way forward but not announce their coming to any ahead. Every so often he would pause, not from something striking worry but to take in the surroundings. He would release the sword hilt and lift a hand to trace a cracked support beam or linger near disturbed stone. Unconsciously he was reading the environment like a map, the innate sense of the Earth Ley Line coming out in his motions as he recognized collapse patterns, draft directions and moisture density in the surrounding earth and rock formations.

  “There’s a shift in airflow,” he murmured. “A larger chamber is ahead.”

  Lythara nodded, she had been following slightly behind him. “That would be the eastern pens.”

  Sihri’s nose twitched, and her voice raised enough to be heard from her position at the back of the group once again. “Pens?”

  Lythara’s voice was tight as she admitted her knowledge of the place. “It was where they kept Animari captives before they decided what to do with them.”

  The group continued walking and rounded a final corner that emerged into a chamber more ruin than intact structure. One side had nearly completely collapsed, the ceiling sagging almost to the ground where its support beams had failed. Along the walls chains hung from rusted hooks giving credence to what Lythara had stated about the place. Most disturbingly however was the floor that bore long-dried bloodstains and the faded, overlapping etchings of countless captives into the stones of the walls.

  Xavier paused at the edge of the chamber. His eyes swept through the space once again noting high corners, alcove shadows, and possible ambush angles. Nothing living moved. But that did not preclude the memories from doing so.

  When Lianna reached the chamber, she stepped forward and froze. There were no words that came from her, she didn’t have any. Her expression said enough though as the memories and horror fought beneath the mask she struggled to keep in place. At her side Frostclaw growled softly, sensing her distress he leaned into the Iskari woman’s leg causing her to instinctively stroke his head with a free hand.

  As Xavier had noticed, scratched into the walls, between the chains and cracks, were claw marks and symbols, crude spirals, crescent slashes, sigils of resistance.

  “I know this mark,” Lianna finally whispered as she stepped closer to a distinctive three-spike triangle etched beside a set of rusted shackles. “We carved these… when we were taken. When we didn’t want to be forgotten.”

  Sihri swallowed nodding as she moved to look as well, her ears folding back exposing her own emotional response. “I’ve seen ones like that. In the pit walls. They never explained.”

  “They weren’t meant to,” Lianna said bitterly. “We were not people to them, we had no meaning, and they wanted us erased, not remembered.”

  Xavier knelt by one of the markings and ran his gloved fingers over it. He didn’t speak. He let the moment settle, let the others take in the truth laid bare in this room. His silence was deliberate a tactic he’d learned long ago back on earth. Words had weight, but stillness could make them heavier.

  Lythara stepped into the chamber carefully, hesitantly. She didn’t touch the chains though her gaze lingered on them. When she spoke her voice was quiet, almost reverent. “I walked through here once. A long time ago. Escorting a Cervari boy to the scribe pit. I doubt he could have been more than eight winters.”

  Lianna turned sharply. “You…”

  “I didn’t lay hands on him,” Lythara said cutting the Iskari off before, raising a hand before letting it fall. “But I didn’t stop it either.” She didn’t cry, but her voice cracked slightly heavy with the memory. “I was, am bound. That doesn’t stop me from still remembering the look in his eyes when I let the door close behind him.”

  Ella shifted her weight, her jaw tight. Sihri looked down, silent.

  Lianna opened her mouth to speak, then stopped and after a moment, she said, “You remember more than you admit.”

  Xavier stood slowly and stepped toward the far wall. His hand brushed faint indentations near a collapsed passage once again led by his connection with the earth. “This route was sealed intentionally,” he said, inspecting the stonework. “They didn’t want anyone getting in… or out.”

  Lythara followed his gaze. “The archive chamber lies beyond that. Bloodline records. Animari families traced across generations.”

  Lianna stiffened at the implications. “So they could decide who to breed… and who to break.”

  “Yes,” came Lythara’s whispered response.

  Xavier walked the room again, he was now mapping its perimeter, not just the space, but the memories that lingered. He noted where the walls bowed, where the floor dipped, places where pain had pooled and curdled into history. To him they were places that mattered. He ultimately came to stop beside Lianna, her hand lightly grazing one of the chains.

  “We should burn this,” she muttered.

  Xavier looked at her. Not with judgment but with a quiet certainty.

  “No,” he said. “We remember it first. Then we bury it like they tried to but this time on our terms.”

  Lianna nodded. “No more erasing the truth.”

  Lythara, watching them all, whispered something too soft to catch. But the look on her face wasn’t the mask she wore in Ironhaven. It was gratitude, gratitude and guilt.

  Xavier signaled the group onward. “Let’s get going the vault’s close now according to the map.” His tone was calm, steady, but to those who knew him there was something behind it now. He held deeper resolve, etched not just in duty and his mission, but in justice for what had been done.

  They moved on from the slave pens in silence, each internalizing what they had seen and found in their own ways. Xavier took the lead again, holding his small lantern high and on alert. As they continued iron, and mortar gave way to smooth weathered stone. The angles grew less uniform and structured, it seemed the passageway was less constructed and more carved from the very rock. The air also seemed to thicken, grow even more humid, still and stagnant. Each step deeper had a growing feel of subtle pressure in the walls, to Xavier it felt like the very stone was holding its breath.

  Whispering to Ella as he ran a hand over the stone he commented, “Old ley bleed, this area is different from the pens. This wasn’t made like those it was… shaped”

  Ella nodded slowly in agreement, and the group continued their decent. The slope they moved down was so gradual it was almost unnoticeable, except for the temperature drop. That grew steadily until their breath was actually starting to mist with each exhale.

  Lythara slowed. “We’re near it.”

  Xavier looked back to where Lythara walked. “Near the vault?”

  Without any warning the tunnel suddenly opened into a perfectly round domed chamber, the only two exits being the tunnel they stood in and its mirror on the opposite side. The chamber’s floor was smoothed to a mirror sheen in places, and in the center was a dry basin set like a long-forgotten altar. Strange spiral etchings curled from the base of the basin to the walls, and they pulsed faintly under the glow of their lanterns.

  Ella paused beside Xavier. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “Exactly,” he said the anomaly giving him chills not dismissible due to the chill. “No echoes. No wind. No life.”

  “Not the vault, the memory ward,” Lythara whispered. “Built to trap you in yourself.”

  Steeling themselves for what might come the party moved forward across the threshold, and the world shifted.

  Xavier’s Vision

  Blinking Xavier found himself standing in a hospital hallway. His mind reeled seeing the white walls. Fluorescent lighting lit everything. The sudden shift from the stone walls to the clinical feel was striking.

  Then he saw the nurse again, her expression tight with grief. She didn’t have to speak he knew what she was there for. He knew her and the door she was standing beside. Gritting his teeth he pushed open the door. Lying in the hospital bed was his brother, covered by a sheet. Tears ran down his cheeks as he remembered the car accident, his guilt. You weren’t there when he needed you.

  The scene shifted and then the blood returned, it was not his brother’s. It was his own. Blood from battles in Arath. Bramblegate, Rynthavael, slave caravans, all the deaths he couldn’t prevent. He was surrounded by the corpses of the innocent that he had tried to save.

  You fail everyone.

  As the guilt and doubt grew and threatened to overwhelm him, he felt the Kael’Sharyn mark under his shirt throb once. Further cracks grew in its design, but it saved his sanity

  Xavier clenched his jaw. “Not now.” He muttered to himself as he pressed a hand to his chest and pulled himself free of the visions. The chamber snapped back to the circular room and he saw everyone else standing slack and glassy-eyed.

  Ella’s Vision

  Ash fell like snow and Ella stood in a twilight realm of ruin. It was an endless plain of shattered stone and broken spires. Beneath her feet the ground was scattered with the spectral remnants of armor, glass-like weaponry, and silver banners tattered by time.

  And the ghosts, the ghosts were everywhere. Faint, flickering presences drifting through the haze, men, women, children. She knew they were the Sylmyrian people. Their faces carried both grace and sorrow, their voices a chorus of whispers without words. They moved around her like wind in a dead forest. None met her eyes. None acknowledged her.

  She called out, her voice laced with yearning. “Do you not know me?”

  Nothing. No one responded to her. They continued to drift, lost in their own patterns, remembering a world long gone. She reached for one of them, a child with silver-white eyes who paused… but did not see her. He passed through her hand as though she were the ghost. She held her hands out and looking down at them, she saw nothing. She had no body, no shadow, no reflection in the black-glass pools at her feet.

  I am Vaeltheris, she remembered the mantra repeating in her mind over and over. I am the blade… and the soul inside it.

  Yet even here, in this graveyard of memory, in the resting place of her own people, she was utterly alone. They did not recognize her. They did not answer. She was their guardian, their voice, their will. But here, she was forgotten.

  Memory shifted and she remembered when she had first awakened, there had been nothing with her in the darkness. No voices, no faces, no presences. Only silence, the blade laying at her feet and the knowledge that she still existed when everything else was gone. That solitude had become her cage and within it she wept a single word escaping her lips. “Alone…”

  Until a sound arose. It was not from the ghosts, not from the blade. It came from the world beyond the vision. From him.

  Xavier’s hand took hers and it was warm, real, present. She felt her form coalesce, her shape return, and once more her limbs were solid as her breath returned to her chest.

  His voice, quiet, steady, real, “you’re not alone anymore.”

  In her mind the ghosts faded, not gone, but distant once again watching and waiting. She closed her eyes and remembered who she was as she leaned into Xavier’s arms.

  Lianna’s Vision

  Fire devoured the trees and houses. Screams echoed in the dark. Her mother’s arms wrapped around her and Liosan, voice hoarse as she begged them to run. They had no chance. Slavers swept through the village like wolves.

  Liosan signed at her, “Don’t leave me!” His tiny fists flailed, trying to hold onto her. It was no good however, she was dragged away.

  Lianna screamed for him. For her mother. For anyone.

  Then the searing pain of the branding iron blossomed on her hip once again. The cold metal closed around her throat.

  She stood in chains, a broken child weeping as she was watching it happen again. Completely powerless, helpless, broken.

  But then, she felt something unseen, Frostclaw brushed against her leg and a voice cut through the fire.

  Xavier. His voice sounded through the ruins and calamity that reigned around her, and it was calm, strong, supportive. “You’re not there anymore.”

  She gasped and dropped to her knees, the vision broken and she could see the stone chamber once again. Slowly she rose to her feet, steadier than ever before.

  Sihri’s Vision

  Sihri stood in the arena. She felt the hot sand on her feet. She felt and smelled her bloodied fur. Across from her she faced another Animari, a Cervari boy, barely a teenager. She didn’t want to kill him.

  The crowd screamed. Her overseer’s voice rang out. “Finish it.”

  She remembered hesitating before. The pain of the punishment, the hunger of withheld food. The sound of his body collapsing when she finally obeyed, and the haunting image of a fallen opponent, their eyes wide with betrayal and pain. The memory was visceral, a searing reminder of the price of her survival. She hadn’t cried then she couldn’t and survive that did not stop her from crying now though.

  Then she felt it, a forehead pressed against her. Hands holding her and others resting on her shoulder. When she opened her eyes Ella knelt in front of her, pressing their foreheads together. Xavier and Lianna both stood next to her, their hands on her shoulders giving her support as well.

  “You’re not in that place anymore.” Ella whispered softly. “You are with us now.”

  Sihri nodded, just once, and breathed.

  Lythara’s Vision

  Wings of beautiful white flashed in a sky of gold. She remembered flying, her soul unburdened, free, whole. She felt overjoyed and whole, something she couldn’t quite place or remember fully, until she wasn’t anymore.

  Suddenly she plummeted through shadow, her wings torn apart. Infernal chains laced her limbs. A contract scorched itself into her soul. Her voice was stolen. Her identity erased. Through it all Ivarik’s laughter followed her down.

  “You will obey.” His voice echoed in the darkness.

  She saw herself signing the pact before her, not with ink, but with blood and screaming. Pain exploded behind her eyes as the bindings etched themselves in her very being.

  Then nothing. No not nothing, a hand on hers. She opened her eyes, bloody tears streaking from their crimson orbs as she lifted them to see a human hand laying on the back of hers. Xavier, his hand around hers. His voice, low but steady. His eyes were not condemning her for what she was, nor were they pitying. They were filled with concern.

  “You’re safe with us now Lythara.” He said softly. “Welcome back.”

  And something broke inside of her. It was not pain, not sorrow, but the illusion of permanence. He could help her, she knew it to her core, the small spark of hope grew and started to take a deeper hold on her.

  Present

  The chamber pulsed, like a heartbeat that struggled forward, with a final wave of pressure. The air seemed to hold its breath as it clung to the last vestiges of magic. In the smooth stone room each of them stood, alone in mind, but scattered across memories too heavy to bear. Slowly something shifted.

  Xavier moved first. He pressed his hand firmly over the Kael’Sharyn mark on his chest, grounding himself as the last echoes of blood and guilt faded from his mind. He blinked slowly, and the chamber returned. He could once again see the smooth stone underfoot, a basin at its heart, his team scattered and stricken. They weren’t moving, not truly, not yet.

  He stepped toward Ella. Her breath caught as he reached for her, fingers brushing hers. She gasped as sensation rushed back into her limbs. His hand closed around hers, and she felt it, warm, real, present. In her mind her body formed again, her voice returned. She leaned into him, reveling in his warmth and presence as she felt tears slipping down her cheek.

  “You’re not alone anymore,” he said quietly, and the last whisper of ash receded from her soul.

  Lianna was next. Her knees hit the stone, but Frostclaw was there leaning into her along with Xavier. He knelt beside her, one hand steadying her shoulder. She looked up, lost and dazed, her breath ragged.

  “You’re not there anymore,” he told her, his voice low but certain.

  Frostclaw pressed close, and Lianna let out a long, shuddering breath. Her eyes slowly cleared, and she stood cautiously, but with new strength.

  Nearby Sihri’s shoulders shook, her breath hitching as the memories of the arena clawed at her. Until she felt the hands touched her from all sides. Ella’s forehead pressed gently to hers. Xavier’s palm rested on one shoulder. Lianna’s touch anchored the other.

  “You’re not in that place anymore,” Ella whispered. “You’re with us now.”

  Sihri opened her eyes. Saw them, felt them, and she nodded once, and the vision shattered around her like glass.

  Nearby, Lythara whimpered as she curled forward, bloody tears streaked down her face, and her fingers trembled over the floor. Slowly she felt Xavier knelling in front of her as he took her hand firm, and steady in his own. Her crimson eyes opened, meeting his.

  “You’re safe with us now, Lythara,” he said gently. “Welcome back.”

  Her lips parted, but no words came, only a trembling breath as the weight lifted from her shoulders. The ward’s grip broke in full, and something inside her, the flicker of hope something she’d thought lost, sparked to life.

  The basin at the center of the room stopped pulsing. The runes dimmed. The silence settled fully over the room once again, but it was no longer suffocating. All around the chamber, they moved. Coming to each other, it was not fear of the past that pulled them together, it was a renewed connection they felt.

  Lianna reached for Sihri’s hand. Sihri took it, fingers still shaking. Frostclaw shifted to stand between the two as they leaned against him in support.

  Ella stood shoulder to shoulder with Xavier, her fingers laced with his once again, grip still firm, her spirit reignited.

  Valkra padded over and leaned into Xavier’s leg, her twin tails curling low, her eyes blinking clear.

  And Lythara, for the first time in centuries, stood not as a commander, not as a chained thing, but as part of something real and that embraced and supported her.

  They looked to one another, the memories had bruised and battered each of them but hadn’t broken them. The Echo Ward’s magic, once sustained by isolation and pain, unraveled. It hadn’t lost or failed in its power. They had simply moved beyond its visions.

  Xavier’s voice was quiet, but every syllable carried. “We survived the past; it cannot control us anymore. We’re not alone anymore and won’t be going forward.”

  No one needed to respond, the experience had built a deeper connection between them and as a collective they moved into passageway towards their goal.