The air was different in this chamber — still and waiting, like it had been sealed off from time itself. Dust floated without landing. The silence wasn't empty; it felt held, as if the room had been holding its breath for a thousand years.
Kael stepped through the broken archway first, his fingers brushing the smooth stone wall etched with sigils that shimmered faintly in the dim light. The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the glyphs sparked — a slow burn that pulsed from symbol to symbol like a heartbeat.
Lira followed behind, her eyes flicking over the walls, the floor, the ceiling. "This place…" she whispered. "It feels like it's waiting for us."
"It is," Kael replied softly, though he wasn't sure how he knew that.
At the center of the chamber stood a monolithic mural — carved directly into the wall, gold lines inlaid into obsidian. Three spirals intertwined in a triangle: one etched with a sword, one with a scroll, and one with a burning crown.
Lira drew in a breath.
Kael took a step closer. "I've seen this before… in dreams. No, not dreams. Memories."
As he reached out, the spirals glowed.
And the room responded.
A pulse of energy surged outward — not violent, but absolute. The chamber lit up with shifting colors as flickering images hovered in the air around them. Not illusions. Not projections.
Memories.
Lira stared, wide-eyed, as three figures began to coalesce from the light: a boy with a scroll slung across his back, a girl with a blade of light, and a woman with a crown of fire.
The boy… looked like Kael. His face was younger, more naive, but the eyes — those were the same. Haunted. Heavy.
The girl — Lira could feel it in her bones. That was her. A different her. A version dressed in silver, marked with battle scars and grief, but still standing tall.
And the crowned woman… she was a mystery. She faced away, her face obscured. Her presence was both regal and tragic — a monarch in mourning.
Kael's heart pounded. "This isn't just a vision. This is us."
The memory flickered to life. The three stood on the edge of a ruined cliffside, a massive city in flames behind them. Screams echoed. Magic split the sky. But they were united, standing before a chained, half-formed entity — shifting, twitching, its voice bleeding from every language at once.
> "We bound it," Kael whispered. "That… thing. The Core. We created the Cradle to hold it."
Lira's hand found his. She didn't speak. She didn't have to.
The vision shifted. Now the three stood before a gate. The crowned woman pressed her hand to a lock of spirals. Her voice echoed faintly:
> "If we fall… our Echoes must find one another. Only together can we prevent it from waking again."
Kael felt a chill crawl down his spine. "We made this place. All of it. The Labyrinth. The Cradle. This wasn't just containment. It was penance."
Lira turned sharply to him. "Then why don't we remember any of it?"
That question silenced them both.
The memory ended.
The light died down, but the glyphs still glowed — brighter now. The mural pulsed.
Kael took a step forward and touched the symbol representing the scroll. As soon as his palm connected with the surface, something unlocked inside him. Not a sound. Not a word.
A presence.
> "Kael the Maker," it whispered within.
"The Architect of Containment. The one who wrote the world's last seal."
Kael stumbled back, eyes wide. "It knew my name."
Lira stepped forward and touched the blade symbol. Her breath caught — her back arched slightly as the same energy entered her.
> "Lira the Blade," the voice echoed within her.
"The Judgement of Echoes. The Hand of Mercy."
She blinked and shook her head, tears clinging to her lashes. "I wasn't a soldier, Kael… I was an executioner."
Kael looked down at his hands, now trembling. "And I… I was the one who made the system. The prison."
Lira turned to him, voice trembling. "Where's the third one?"
The answer came before he could speak.
The crown symbol glowed, but no one was there to touch it.
Instead, a vision flared — but this time not of the past. Of now.
Serida stood in a corridor far above, facing a figure cloaked in white. The mural shimmered with her image. And the crown blazed in brilliant gold.
Lira gasped. "It's her."
Kael's knees buckled slightly. "Serida… she's the third."
The Crown.
It made no sense — and yet, it made perfect sense.
All three of them had been drawn together, again and again, across lifetimes. Echoes reborn not by accident, but by design. A soul-triad meant to keep something far worse at bay.
Kael spoke slowly, "If we are the lock… and the Core is the cage…"
Lira finished the thought, horror blooming in her eyes.
> "Then someone is trying to open the door."
A low rumble filled the chamber. Dust fell from the ceiling. Magic shimmered along the walls.
The Core was stirring.
And for the first time… it knew they were all awake.