The passage dipped downward, spiraling like a prayer.
With each step, torches burst to life in sequence—blue flames hissing awake, lining the descent in sacred rhythm.
Julius followed the light, boots pressing into smooth stone shaped by hands long dead.
The chamber at the base of the vault was wide and circular, its ceiling domed with gold-leaf mosaics that shimmered with faint, unnatural warmth.
The walls were carved in bas-relief, each panel telling a story from a forgotten age.
Legions marching behind armored priests.
Altars raised beneath eclipse-washed skies.
Symbols of healing and fire and resurrection.
And in the center of the room, beneath the dome's apex:
A sarcophagus.
Flat.
Unadorned save for its material—pale marble capped with blackened glass.
Here rests the Custodian of Light, last of the Solar Ordinem.
Julius read it twice.
The Solar Ordinem.
Not canon.
Not in the final lore.
