The vault was colder than it had any right to be.
Not in the way of wind or ice, but in that buried way—the cold of caves that had never known light, of secrets meant to be forgotten. Even the Knife went silent as Kael stepped through the massive obsidian arch carved with warnings in every language, dead or divine.
Two arena clerks stood just inside, their faces pale, uniforms stiff with protection glyphs.
"You're Kael Riven," one said without meeting his eyes.
"Notorious, last pick, disappointment to the hierarchy. Yeah, that's me."
The clerk held out a bundled scroll. "You'll be assisting in Vault Set D. Artifact stability monitoring. If a relic sings to you, don't respond."
Kael frowned. "Sings?"
The second clerk cleared her throat. "They mean if it starts to remember too loud."
Kael accepted the scroll, noting the tremble in her voice. "That happens often?"
"Rarely," she said.
Then, under her breath: "Too often."
---
Vault Set D looked more like a catacomb than a storage space.
Long rows of iron shelves. Artifacts bound in crystal cocoons, glyph-wire, salt rings. Some were weapon-shaped. Some looked like jewelry. Some pulsed like dying stars.
And all of them whispered.
Softly. Constantly.
Kael stepped carefully, letting the Knife guide his route as he scanned relic tags and fed their aura levels into a cracked handheld sigil reader.
Item 742: No change.
Item 743: Stable.
Item 744—
His breath hitched.
The air rippled.
"They came through the eastern gate. We held. We held. Until the sky bled tongues—"
A voice—not from any one relic, but from all of them.
Kael looked up.
The vault was glowing. Pale blue light flickered from dozens of relics, like a choir warming its throat.
The Knife hissed. "Memory surge. External influence unknown. Recommend immediate exit."
Kael turned.
Too late.
A scream—not human, not machine—howled from the ceiling.
Reality folded inward.
The relics detonated into images: shattered battlefields, weeping gods, lovers turned to ash. Kael stumbled as a blade of memory cut through his mind—scenes not his own, pain not his own, but felt all the same.
One relic burst free from its containment. A crown of bone spun midair, laughing with teeth that weren't there.
Kael dropped to one knee.
His glyphs flared.
And from somewhere deep inside—
Core stirred.