Drawing on the text messages and social media videos, the breach chamber is a cathedral of strobing light and unforgiving sound. Black flames wriggle like serpents, tongues of molten fury licking at the walls. Fifty feet away, the rent rumbles open in the worn stone floor, drifts of void energy coursing and murmuring.
I wrap my fingers around the edge of the ladder and fall to the grated walkway, boots clanking. The leader of the Shadow Wardens interposes himself between me and the rift, cloak flaring like smoke. His scythe—dark and curved, wrought of night—oozes filth.
Lirael materializes beside me, gauntlet shimmering violet. She's bleeding from a slash across her cheek, but her eyes are fierce. "We need to close it before the tear becomes any bigger," she says, her voice steady.
I nod, feeling iron and adrenaline in my mouth. "Cover me."
She holds up her gauntlet, which vibrates with violet energy. "Get in close. I'll take the breach, with the mana barrier.
I exhale and charge forward. The Warden's head jerks — his face is obscured, but his expression is evident. He meets me halfway. The sear of his blade against my plasma sounds like thunder. Sparks scatter.
He's fast—inhumanly so. Every blow is precise and aimed at the kill. Block a stroke, then another, the muscles winding. I continue to push him, but he repels me with more void energy, and I find myself at the edge of the rift.
"Lirael!" I yell over the roar. "Now!"
She hits the grated floor with her palm. A violet light dome spreads out in a wave, stopping the tendrils of darkness two feet from the rift. The barrier flickers—uneven—but holds. The chamber is now a divided chasm of dancing black fire and a sanctuary of soft purple glow.
The Warden snarls and twists his body, swinging from my flank. I twist, plasma blade sparking. A pain flares, but I fight through it. I nail a good shot to his forearm and cut off some of his shadow cloak. Beneath it, warped armor fragments pop and crackle.
He pulls and I take my chance. I run past him toward the lip of the breach. Every step and cold and heat battle for control in my chest. I crouch at the edge.
"Lirael, I need more time!" I shout.
Now she's crooning, voice low and tight. Runes flare out along the edge of the barrier, lines of light stitching the cracked stone. The rift shrinks. Darkness recoils.
The Warden's rage fills the air behind me, off‑balanced. I turn, shoulder down, and tackle him into the guardrail. Fluidic energy meets violet. He shrieks—astonishment, fury.
I roll off him and stand above his armored body. His sword clatters to the grate. He glares up at me.
"You can't bottle it up forever," he snarls. "Your humanity will fail you."
I raise my plasma blade. "I'll seal it long enough."
Lirael's ward flickers one more time. With a last crackling throb the rift's gash stitches shut. The black power's veins on the floor fade to dark gray. The violet shards blast outward as the barrier breaks and the chamber quakes.
The Warden springs to his feet, crabbings back into the dark. "This isn't finished," he hisses, and disintegrates into pinpricks of darkness that filter out through the slatted grates.
Silence.
I sink to one knee, chest heaving. The breach is gone. Dust cascades down around me, stage smoke after a rafter-shaking, foot-stomping and seat-rattling grand finale.
Lirael stumbles over, falling to her knees next to me. Her gauntlet's glow fades. Her hand trembling, she applies pressure to her gash. "We did it," she breathes. Relief, exhaustion, something deeper — pride, yes — shimmer in her violet eyes.
I scan the chamber. The grated walkway descends into a maintenance tunnel, semi‑collapsed in sections. Red emergency lights glow weakly. Everyone outside the Vault's cut off.
I help Lirael to her feet. "Let's move," I say. My voice is rough—so loud in the abrupt silence.
She nods, leaning against my shoulder as I lead her toward the aisle. Each step is accompanied by the whisper of metal. The smell of ozone and molting stone and sweat fills the air.
I stop at the mouth of the tunnel. I turn into the now‑quiet breach chamber — no wall, no rift, just a ragged crack in the stone floor. My fingers rest on the scar where the Emberheart mutation found its first home.
Lirael turns to me. "Are you hurt?"
I run a fingertip down my side. "Nothing I can't handle."
She studies me, concern flickering. Your humanity would fail, for me."
I raise her chin, signaling calm. "Not while I'm here."
She smiles, the smallest turn of her lips, and something warm blooms in my chest.
We turn a corner to a low archway. The rest of the chamber is bathed golden in torchlight against polished walls — well away from the darkness of the rift. We pass the doorway to the heart of the Vault: the Command Center's auxiliary hallway.
Banners, each depicting the Vault's emblem—a dragon curled around a shield—flutter from the walls of the corridor. Under the banners, Service Wardens stand at parade rest. Their armor shine; their faces remain stoic.
Commander Sylene enters, with two officer in tow. She looks so relieved when she sees us. "You filled that breach," she says, voice constricted with emotion. "You did it."
I nod, wiping dust from my armor. "It's closed. The rift's gone—for now."
She exhales a long breath. "Elyndros works to repay a debt that we can never fulfill."
I wave away her words with a grin. "Just keep the Vault standing."
Sylene looks at Lirael and me, then at me. "But there's more… unexpected intelligence. You were approached by a Council advisor who tried to prevent you--alleged use wants sole dominion over the System."
My jaw clenches. "I know. We saw him."
Sylene's eyes narrow. "Then this war is only half‑won. The real battle is for Elyndros's future. The Heart Chamber—the room with the Council's treasures, we need to lock it down. Lirael's heartboiler could potentially stablise the System long term."
Lirael's hand goes to the pendant on her neck — her secret god‑core. She hesitates. Then her shoulders square. "Let's go."
I fall into step beside her. With Sylene and the Service Wardens, we make our way down the hall to the Heart Chamber. The polished stone of the floor is aglow with torchlight. But below the surface, cracks of doubt and unease fanned out, like dark veins in marble.
At the end of the hall of a huge door, chiseled with the founding pact of the Vault: "In Unity, We Thrive."
A councillor steps out from a side alcove and stiffly bows. His gaze is sliding over Lirael's pendant — the gemstone at her collar bone that radiates a faint violet. His face flinches with fear.
"Lirael Starforge," he says, his voice shaking. &rdquo The High Chancellor requests your attendance.
Lirael steps forward. I am loyal to Elyndros, not his brother's fickle whims."
He raises a gloved hand. "Then, I'm afraid… options may be out of our hands."
Sylene's hand on the hilt of her sword. I shift beside Lirael.
The officer's expression hardens. "The Council has ordered that you are to wait judgment in the Heart Chamber.
Lirael looks to me, strength and vulnerability battling in her eyes. I squeeze her hand.
She turns to the officer. "Take us to the chamber."
He hesitates, then bows once. "Right this way."
A loud banging sound follows as the massive door opens inward. Beyond it is a vaulted chamber of shining marble, illuminated by brazier fires that smolder like flaming life. At its heart is a pedestal on which rests a crystaline sarcophagus—the Council's collection of souvenirs and conventions.
The air shivers as we enter. Every Banner Warden has their eyes on me now, and I feel the pressure of their gaze. I search Lirael's face—steady, determined.
She steps forward, torch light reflecting from her gauntlet. "This is the decision place."
A hush falls. And then, from the darkness, a voice resounds—meek, disquieting: "And here is where our real power is stored."
Liquid night robes flow as the High Chancellor steps from behind the tomb. His eyes settle on Lirael's pendant—and on me, around whom torchlight and risk gather.
The door to the chamber slams shut.
Cliffhanger: The High Chancellor holds out his hand, palm up. A single crystal shard hangs above it – pulsing with Lirael's now-violet-glowing core. He grins, eyes glacial: "We shall see whose heart really moves Elyndros."
Now, as the lid of the sarcophagus begins to lift, I know the next choice I make will decide my fate, save a realm… or the woman I love.Either way, I cannot fail.