---
Riven didn't sleep that night.
Even after the Vale's wards had flared back to full strength, even after the cloaked intruder vanished in smoke, his mind stayed in motion. Pieces that hadn't connected before were suddenly snapping into place.
Seris's blue robe.
The handwriting on the message.
The too-perfect timing of the Eclipse shard's appearance.
The way she always had answers—but only half of them.
And Lyra's message still echoed in his mind:
> Don't trust the one in blue.
---
The next morning, Riven sat alone in the restricted library, turning pages without reading. His pendant was warm against his skin, as if it too were unsettled.
Kael approached quietly, sliding into the seat beside him.
"You're still thinking about it?"
"I can't shake it," Riven said. "She's been guiding us for months. But the more I look back… the more it feels like she's been guiding me."
Kael hesitated. "You're sure it's Seris?"
"No," Riven admitted. "But I'm not sure it's not."
He opened a scroll. The Whispering Hall was mentioned only briefly—one line, half-erased:
> "...all words spoken remain, for memory must serve judgment..."
It had been sealed after a monk was driven mad by voices that weren't his.
Riven stood.
"I need to hear what's been said in that room."
Kael frowned. "You think she slipped up?"
"I think if she's not what she says she is… that room will remember."
---
The Whispering Hall was colder than Riven expected.
Not physically. Spiritually.
It was like the air had weight—like walking through the remnants of arguments, prayers, confessions that had never faded. The walls were lined with obsidian mirrors, each reflecting nothing but shadows.
As he stepped inside, the voices began.
At first they were nonsense. Chatter, murmurs, layers of time crashing into each other.
Then he heard names.
His.
Kael's.
Lyra's.
And finally—Seris's.
Her voice was sharp. Measured.
> "He's progressing too quickly. If he remembers the seventh seal before he understands the crown..."
A pause. A second voice replied—warped, masked.
> "You fear he will burn too bright."
> "I fear he'll burn before he learns to control it."
Then silence.
Riven backed away from the mirror, hands shaking.
He hadn't seen her face.
But he'd know that tone anywhere.
---
Later that evening, Riven returned to the upper sanctum. Seris was there, alone, preparing mixtures near the flame basin—something she often did when pretending to be too busy for questions.
She didn't look up when he entered.
"You're late," she said. "I thought you'd be training with Kael."
"I needed quiet," Riven replied. "Someplace… private."
He didn't reach for his weapon. Not yet.
Seris stirred a violet powder into the fire. The flames shifted green.
"Quiet places are dangerous," she said. "Sometimes silence whispers louder than words."
"I went into the Whispering Hall."
That got her attention.
Her hand froze. She turned slowly, eyes unreadable.
"I hope you didn't go alone."
"I heard your voice," Riven said. "You weren't talking to a student. Or a mentor. You were reporting."
Seris didn't flinch. Didn't deny it.
But something in her eyes changed.
Tightened.
Riven took a step closer. "Is it true? Are you with them?"
Silence.
Then, quietly: "I was with her."
That threw him.
"Lyra?"
"She came to me long before the Eclipse did," Seris said. "Before she remembered who she was. Before she knew about her brother. She wanted truth. And she was willing to suffer for it."
"You handed her over."
"No," Seris snapped. "I warned her. I begged her not to open that door. But she wouldn't stop. And when the backlash came… when her soul began to fracture—they were the only ones who could stop it."
Riven shook his head. "You brought her to the same people who killed her family."
"I brought her to the only ones who understood the Seal inside her," Seris hissed. "You think the Vale has all the answers? We're just caretakers of scraps. The Eclipse knows what lies beyond the ninth seal. They knew before your father ever fell."
Riven stepped back, jaw tight. "And you believe them?"
"I believe in survival," she said. "And Lyra would be dead if I hadn't acted."
Kael emerged from the shadows, blade half-drawn. "So instead you helped them turn her into a weapon."
Seris looked at him—and for a second, her expression cracked. Real emotion. Pain.
"She asked me to."
Riven's throat felt dry. "You could've come to us."
"You weren't ready," she said. "You're still not."
Then she drew a black shard from her robes.
Teleportation rune.
Kael lunged—but she vanished in a flash of silver smoke.
Only the fire remained—burning green.
---
Back in their quarters, Riven sat silently beside the window.
Kael stood at the doorway, arms crossed.
"She's gone."
"She's not running," Riven said. "She's returning."
"To the Eclipse?"
"No," he said. "To Lyra."
---
Far beneath the surface, in a chamber carved from black crystal, Lyra knelt in silence.
Her wrists were still bound, but her eyes were open now—clearer. Sharper.
She whispered something under her breath.
A glyph lit on the ground.
The Eclipse cultist standing over her paused.
"You shouldn't have that power."
"I shouldn't remember, either," Lyra said.
Then the seal on her collarbone began to burn.
---