The figure stood motionless at the top of the stair.
A pale iron mask gleamed in the lantern light—featureless save for two dark slits where its eyes should have been. The robes hung like old shrouds, stitched with glyphs in dead tongue. Thin metal fingers curled over the stone rail.
The Carrion Adept spoke softly.
"Corwin Endren. Son of the last Clockwright. He who touched the forbidden text... and woke the sleeping Chain."
The sound of my name in that voice made my skin crawl.
Ashra shifted beside me, blade raised, eyes locked on the Adept.
Liran flanked the shadows near the wall, dagger hidden but ready.
I swallowed.
"What do you want?"
A faint tilt of the mask.
"To offer wisdom. And warning. Before your steps lead you too far down the Circuit's path."
The chains in the vault walls stirred again—slow, rattling.
I gripped the pack of stolen tools.
"You burned the Guilds. You hunted the Circles to ruin. And now you bargain? Why?"
The Adept's head cocked, birdlike.
"The First Alchemist's secret broke the world once. It can do so again. Life unchained. Death undone. The Vault holds what must never awaken."
Its hand traced a slow circle in the air.
"You seek the Circuit's completion. The Circuit seeks you in turn. But you do not understand the price."
Liran's voice was quiet steel.
"Then explain. Before I put this blade between your ribs."
The mask did not turn.
"There is no blade fast enough to stop what waits. Listen, child of Endren... the Guild sought power. But the First Alchemist sought something deeper."
A pause.
"To end the world's suffering. To break the chain of life and death itself. To craft a gate from this world to the next."
I felt the old hunger stir in my chest. The dream of every alchemist since the dawn.
Transcendence.
Immortality.
"Impossible," I breathed.
The Adept gave a faint, whispering laugh.
"Not impossible. Forbidden."
Ashra growled low in her throat.
"And you would kill to keep that secret buried?"
The Adept stood silent.
Then slowly, softly, it whispered:
"You are already marked, Corwin Endren. The Circuit calls to you. The Chain weakens where you tread. Walk carefully... or the Vault's prisoner will walk free by your hand."
Behind it, faint and distant—voices rose in the dark. More footsteps. More masks.
The Adept lowered its hand.
"A kindness, this warning. I will not give another. Take your stolen toys. Flee this place. Forget the Circuit."
It turned.
"Or we will return. With fire."
And the Adept was gone. The trap creaked shut.
Silence fell.
Liran exhaled, slow and cold.
Ashra sheathed her blade, face pale.
I stared at the vault door—chains still trembling, faint light pulsing from the ancient seal.
"They fear it," I said softly.
Ashra nodded.
"They fear you."
We gathered what we'd taken. Tools of old power. Secrets that could break the world.
Then we fled the vault, up the narrow stair, into the grey dawn.
The city above felt wrong. Still. As if something vast and dark had passed unseen.
But the stolen Circuit plans burned in my pack. The old hunger stirred in my veins.
The game was no longer secret.
The Carrion Order knew our names.
And the hunt had truly begun.