The splitting world left no noise behind—only stillness.
Then, slowly, breath returned. Sound filtered in like threads of memory weaving themselves back into a coherent pattern. Zyren stumbled forward, gasping as the flickering light of the pendant dimmed. Around him, the others were slowly regaining their senses, blinking as the chamber stabilized around them.
"What—was that?" Corwin murmured, steadying himself against the stone wall.
"We shifted," Leona whispered. "Or something shifted around us."
Zyren felt it too. The world had changed, if only subtly. His mind felt stretched thin, as if he had glimpsed a dozen overlapping realities and had been forced to land in just one. Whatever the Ninefold Concord had done—whatever the pendant had triggered—had not been ordinary magic.
Zyren's eyes fell on Mira, who was helping Alaric to his feet. Fira paced near the shattered lantern, blade still drawn. Lysia clutched an old scroll to her chest like a lifeline.
"We're not in the archives anymore," Fira muttered.
"No," Mira said, her eyes sweeping the corridor. "We're somewhere older. And more dangerous."
Zyren rose, helping Lysia to her feet, the pendant warm against his skin. "I didn't mean to bring us here."
Lysia brushed dust from her skirt, her eyes flicking to the glowing sigils. "It doesn't matter if you meant to. You did. This place responded to you. Or the pendant. Or both."
He hesitated. "Are you scared?"
"Of course," she said, then softened. "But not of you." Her gaze shifted to the corridor. "Places like this don't open for just anyone. The Concord left anchors only the right minds could access. Minds shaped by memory. Grief. Purpose."
"You think I'm one of those?"
"I think you're becoming one."
Her voice lingered, hesitant at the end—as if there was more she wanted to say. Zyren smiled faintly and squeezed her shoulder.
"Thanks, Lys. I don't know what I'd do without you."
She looked away quickly, blinking hard. "You'll figure it out."
The air was thick with magic—not hostile, but heavy, watchful. The corridor was narrow, leading into darkness in both directions. No sounds except their breathing.
Then—footsteps.
Mira immediately conjured flame in her palm. Corwin drew a blade from his boot. Alaric stepped forward, shielding Mira instinctively.
A cloaked figure emerged from the shadows—tall, soaked with rain, face obscured. Around her, the air shimmered faintly, like heat rising from stone, though the corridor was cold. Magic, Zyren realized—old, and watching.
Zyren's pulse quickened. "Wait."
The figure lowered her hood.
"Zyren," said Selene. "You survived."
He blinked in shock. "Selene?"
"You know her?" Mira asked sharply.
Zyren nodded. "She's helped me before. She warned me about the Order. She's… trusted."
Selene's eyes flicked to Mira's flame. "If I meant you harm, I wouldn't have waited for introductions."
"No offense," Mira said coolly, "but you don't exactly inspire comfort."
Zyren stepped forward. "Selene, where are we?"
She turned, motioning them down the corridor. "Somewhere between memory and truth. You triggered a resonance event—your pendant awakened a hidden node of the Ninefold Concord."
Corwin frowned. "And you know that how?"
Selene said nothing. She simply turned and gestured for them to follow. "There's no time. You awakened something. Come."
They walked in silence through the corridor, which curved into a crystalline chamber etched with symbols—arcane and ancient. In the center stood a pedestal shaped like an open eye.
"This is a memory anchor," Selene said. "From the Ninefold Concord."
Zyren stepped forward. "It feels… familiar."
"You were drawn to it," she said softly. "Because of the pendant. Because of your mother."
He turned, startled. "You knew her?"
Selene hesitated. "Not then. But I know what she fought for."
Zyren's fingers brushed the pedestal's surface. "Tell me more."
Selene looked away. "Later. For now, you need to see."
He placed the pendant in the center, and light burst outward—visions filling his mind.
Flashes. Fire. Kael's face twisted in rage. His mother's voice—clear, urgent: "Don't trust the archives."
Chains of memory unraveling. A door of light, and behind it—his mother's hand, reaching for him—then pulled away by shadow.
And then—
Darkness.
---
When he woke, Corwin was holding him upright.
"You alright?" he asked.
Zyren nodded weakly. "I saw my mother. She knew."
Selene stepped forward. "She tried to warn the Council. They didn't listen."
"How do you know that?" Zyren asked, voice raw.
Selene looked at the floor. Then removed her glove.
On her forearm, a faded brand: a black sun.
The room fell into stillness.
Mira gasped. "You were one of them."
Zyren stared. "You were in the Order?"
Selene didn't flinch. "Years ago. When I was younger. I was raised among them… trained. Indoctrinated. I thought I was doing good. I believed in the Black Sun."
Corwin stiffened. Alaric's jaw tensed. Even Lysia took a half-step back. But Zyren didn't move.
"They told us we were preserving truth," Selene continued, voice distant. "That the world needed to be corrected. But what they did to people—to children—they didn't just control minds. They erased people. Like they were never born."
"You still kept it secret," Mira said coldly.
"Would you have listened if I hadn't?" she replied. "I couldn't risk it—not until I was sure Zyren was ready."
Zyren said nothing. The silence stretched long.
Finally, he looked at her.
"You left," he said. "Why?"
Her eyes softened. "Because of your mother."
Zyren stiffened. "You said you didn't know her."
"I didn't know her personally," Selene corrected. "But I followed her work. I studied her lectures—before they were purged. She believed memory was sacred. When the Order began rewriting history, she stood against them."
Zyren turned back. "Why help me now?"
"Because you wear her pendant. Because you're the only one left who might finish what she started."
---
Later, as the group packed their findings and prepared to return, Zyren lingered in the crystal-lit chamber.
Lysia sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolls spread around her like petals. As he approached, she looked up, glasses slipping down her nose.
"You're brooding," she said lightly.
"I thought I'd mastered it," Zyren replied. "But apparently I still have lessons to learn."
She smiled faintly. "That's what the Concord believed. That no knowledge was ever complete. That memory was always unfolding."
He sank beside her. "I don't remember her voice. Not really. Just a sound. Like light through water."
"Then find it again," Lysia said. "Piece by piece. That's what we do, Zyren. We rebuild the echoes until they sing again."
For a long moment, they sat in silence, glyphlight dancing across their faces.
"You believe in all this?" he asked.
"I believe in you."
Zyren gave her a tired smile, unaware of how much weight she had placed in that single phrase. He reached out and squeezed her hand—grateful, but unaware.
"You're the best friend I've got, Lysia. I hope you know that."
Her smile didn't falter. But in the way her fingers slowly let go of his, it was clear: she already knew.
Selene stood by the far wall, tracing one of the glyphs with her finger.
He approached quietly.
"You knew," he said. "All this time."
"I suspected," she replied without turning. "The dreams. The pendant. I knew you were hers."
"She never told me about any of this. Not the Order. Not the Concord. Not even you."
"She was trying to protect you."
"I don't want protection anymore."
She looked at him finally, something like sorrow in her eyes. "Neither did she. And it cost her everything."
Zyren folded his arms. "You left the Order. But you still kept their secrets."
"I kept her secrets," Selene said quietly. "Until you were ready."
Zyren studied her. "And if I hadn't been?"
"I still would've tried to save you."
---
By dawn, they returned to the Academy through a hidden stairwell. Selene parted ways silently—disappearing into the northern hallways, leaving only a whispered, "Find me when you're ready."
---
At breakfast, Zyren sat beside Corwin. Across the hall, Mira leaned into Alaric. Fira was half-asleep, and Leona was sketching the anchor symbols into a book of star maps.
Lysia passed, dropping a warm pastry beside Zyren without looking at him. "You look like you've aged five years."
He smiled faintly. "It's been a long night."
Corwin yawned beside him. "So. Secret Order member turned ally. Ancient memory anchors. Your mom facing down a cult. That's a lot for one night."
Zyren stared into his cup. "It changes everything."
Corwin raised an eyebrow. "Does it?"
Zyren looked at him. "No. Not what we have to do."
Corwin nodded. "Good. Because I'm not letting you face the next nightmare alone."
And for a while, the Academy felt normal again.
But beneath that fragile calm, echoes stirred—echoes of memory, power, and truth.
And Zyren Elraven was finally ready to face them.
---
**End of Chapter Thirteen**