Night fell faster than any of them had expected.
Barely had they left the shattered clearing behind when the sky, once painted in violet and gold, was swallowed by an eerie dark blue. The trees of the valley grew taller and closer, their branches twisting together like the fingers of ancient guardians refusing to let the living pass.
The path leading to the ruins of Serevyn was no ordinary road.
It was a forgotten passage.
A fragment of a trail abandoned by time itself.
And the farther they walked, the stronger Lyra's strange feeling became—that the world around them was changing.
Not physically.
Not entirely.
But as if the air itself had grown older.
Heavier.
Thicker with memory.
Kael walked at her right, silent and alert. Eryan led the way, guided by a white light floating above his palm like a trapped star.
Their footsteps brushed softly against dead leaves, yet no birds sang.
No insects buzzed.
No creature dared disturb the silence.
And that silence was not natural.
Lyra pulled her cloak a little tighter around herself.
"Why do I feel like we're walking into a place where no one is meant to be?" she murmured.
Eryan slowed slightly.
"Because that is probably the case."
Lyra looked up at him, and even Kael turned his head slightly.
Eryan continued, his low voice blending into the wind.
"Serevyn was never an ordinary kingdom. It was not simply a sanctuary of magic. It was a place of judgment… and preservation."
"Preservation of what?" Lyra asked.
Eryan paused.
"Of truths the world was never supposed to forget."
Lyra's heart missed a beat.
"And yet it still forgot them…"
"Yes."
Silence settled over them again.
Kael stared ahead, his jaw tightening slightly.
"I don't like that."
Lyra glanced at him.
"What exactly?"
Kael frowned faintly.
"The fact that everything we discover seems to have been hidden for a reason."
Eryan slowly nodded.
"You're not wrong."
Kael continued, his voice lower now.
"Every memory. Every vision. Every truth. It all seems to come with a price."
Lyra felt her chest tighten.
Because he was right.
Ever since they found the Knot, nothing had been simple. Every answer had opened a deeper wound. Every memory had uncovered an older pain. And now they were walking toward forgotten ruins, with only three days left before a prophecy none of them fully understood.
And yet…
She didn't want to turn back.
Something inside her knew they were close.
Close to a truth that would change everything.
After another hour of walking, the landscape began to shift.
The trees grew fewer.
The ground, once buried under moss and roots, gave way to broken white stone almost completely swallowed by earth and vines. Fallen pillars emerged from the mist, leaning like sleeping giants.
And then, at last—
Serevyn appeared.
Lyra stopped in her tracks.
Her breath caught.
The ruins stretched before them like the remains of a dream that had fallen from the sky.
Massive white arches, cracked by time, still stood over collapsed terraces. Endless stairways descended toward dried-up basins where silver dust still shimmered faintly. In the distance, the remains of a circular palace rose from the heart of the ruins, its shattered dome open to the cold light of the moon.
Even ruined, even abandoned, Serevyn was beautiful.
Painfully beautiful.
Like a memory refusing to die.
Lyra unconsciously pressed a hand to her chest.
"I… I know this place."
Kael immediately turned toward her.
"You remember it?"
She shook her head lightly.
"Not exactly. It's just… a feeling."
Eryan studied the ruins gravely.
"That's normal. If your soul is truly tied to the Original Thread, then certain places may react to you before your memories do."
Lyra swallowed hard.
That thought unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
Not remembering her past lives was already difficult enough.
But feeling that part of her recognized things she herself did not understand?
That was worse.
It was like living with half a soul whispering secrets without ever explaining them.
Kael stepped slightly closer to her.
His presence alone eased some of the chaos in her chest.
"We go in together," he said simply.
Lyra lifted her eyes to his.
And in that single look, she found exactly what she needed:
stability.
Not an impossible promise.
Not the illusion of perfect safety.
But something more human. More precious.
He would be there.
Whatever they found.
She nodded softly.
"Together."
They descended the broken steps carefully.
As they moved deeper into the ruins, a strange light began to appear on some of the stones. At first it was faint. Then clearer. Ancient symbols carved into the white marble lit up one by one as they passed, as though the sanctuary itself were awakening to their presence.
Lyra brushed her fingertips against a cracked pillar.
An icy shock instantly ran through her skin.
Then an image exploded inside her mind.
A vast hall.
Voices.
A crowd kneeling.
And her—
no, not her, but another version of her—
standing in the center of a circle of light.
Crowned.
Dressed in gold and white.
Lyra's breath hitched.
She yanked her hand away from the stone.
Kael immediately caught her by the shoulders.
"Lyra."
She blinked several times, trying to return to the present.
"I saw something."
Eryan stepped closer.
"What?"
Lyra kept staring at the pillar as though it might steal more memories from her.
"A ceremony… or a judgment, I'm not sure. There were so many people. They were all… facing me."
Kael studied her face carefully.
"Are you okay?"
Lyra inhaled slowly.
"Yes. Just… shaken."
Eryan glanced at the glowing symbols.
"Serevyn preserves soul imprints. If your energy touches certain seals, they may respond."
Lyra frowned.
"So these ruins can show me memories?"
"Yes."
He paused.
"But they can also show you truths you are not yet ready to carry."
The wind rose again between the arches.
Colder this time.
As though the place itself approved of that warning.
They continued onward until they reached the center of the ruins, where the old circular palace stood.
The great doors had long since vanished, but the pillars framing the entrance still remained, covered in celestial patterns and black cracks.
Inside, the air felt heavier.
Holier.
The floor formed an enormous circle engraved with runes, almost identical to the one at the Knot… but far older. Fragments of colored glass lay scattered across the marble, reflecting moonlight in shards of red, blue, and silver.
And at the center of the chamber—
stood a throne.
Not an ordinary royal throne.
Something stranger.
Something older.
It had been carved from a white stone so pure it almost seemed alive. Behind it, a massive ring etched with fractured constellations rose toward the shattered ceiling.
Lyra stopped again.
This time, her heart pounded so hard it almost hurt.
"No…"
Her voice was barely a whisper.
Kael turned toward her.
"What is it?"
Lyra stared at the throne without blinking.
"It's the same one."
Eryan stiffened.
"What?"
"The throne from the vision. The one we saw… when the stone spoke."
Silence immediately fell.
Kael cast a dark look at the ancient seat.
"Then we're in the right place."
But Lyra didn't answer.
Because the longer she stared at that throne, the more a terrible sensation grew inside her.
A feeling of familiarity… and loss.
As if she had already been here.
As if she had already lost everything here.
Eryan slowly stepped toward the engraved circle on the floor.
Then he froze.
"Wait."
Kael and Lyra stopped.
"What?"
Eryan knelt and passed a hand over the runes.
His eyes immediately darkened.
"This place was reopened recently."
Kael narrowed his eyes.
"By Malrik?"
"Maybe. Or by someone working for him."
A chill crawled up Lyra's spine.
"That means he's already been here…"
Eryan slowly looked up.
"Yes. And he was most likely searching for the same thing we are."
Kael's jaw tightened.
"Then we find it before he does."
Lyra looked around.
The palace was vast—almost too vast for ruins. Several dark hallways stretched from the central circle, leading into collapsed wings, silent galleries, and shadow-drenched chambers.
Then something caught her eye.
Behind the throne.
A glow.
Very faint.
Almost invisible.
"Over there," she whispered.
Kael followed her gaze.
Behind the ancient seat, a spiral staircase descended into the depths of the sanctuary. And at the very bottom, barely visible, a pale light shimmered in the darkness.
Eryan slowly straightened.
"The Archives of the Thread."
Lyra turned sharply toward him.
"You know them?"
"Only from the oldest texts. They say beneath the palace of Serevyn lies a place where the first soul-bonds were recorded… long before the modern kingdoms existed."
Kael looked at the staircase suspiciously.
"And naturally, it's hidden beneath a cursed and forgotten palace."
Eryan lifted one shoulder slightly.
"It would be disappointing otherwise."
Despite the tension, a small smile tugged at Lyra's lips.
And somehow, that tiny smile softened the atmosphere around them.
They slowly approached the staircase.
But the exact moment Lyra stepped onto the first stair—
the floor trembled.
A deep rumble ran through the very foundations of Serevyn.
Then light burst around the engraved circle.
Kael instantly grabbed Lyra's hand.
Eryan spun around.
The runes on the floor had lit up.
All of them.
At once.
The entire circle pulsed with silver light, and then a voice echoed through the chamber.
Not like the voice of the runic stone.
This one was clearer.
Nobler.
And sadder, too.
Whoever enters the Archives of the Thread must offer the truth of their soul.
Lyra's heart accelerated.
Kael immediately looked around.
"I don't like this."
Eryan studied the glowing runes intently.
"It's a recognition seal. It won't let us pass until it identifies our souls."
Lyra frowned slightly.
"And how exactly does it do that?"
The light around the circle intensified.
Then, slowly, three separate beams rose from the floor.
One moved toward Kael.
Another toward Eryan.
The third—
struck Lyra directly in the heart.
She gasped, but no pain came.
Only an odd warmth.
A presence.
As though the sanctuary were watching her.
Judging her.
Accepting her… or not.
Then the voice spoke again.
The Guardian of Shadow.
The Witness of Light.
And the Gate of Return.
Lyra's breath caught.
Kael froze.
Eryan sharply lifted his head.
"Gate of Return?" Lyra repeated.
But before Eryan could answer, the voice continued:
The Original Thread cannot be restored without the sacrifice of the one who bears it.
The world seemed to crack in silence.
Lyra felt her blood turn cold.
Kael immediately released her hand only to move in front of her, as if his instincts had spoken before his mind could.
"No."
His voice rang through the empty hall.
"Absolutely not."
The runes glowed brighter.
As though the sanctuary rejected his refusal.
Eryan clenched his fists.
"I knew there would be a price… but not this."
Lyra felt her throat tighten.
"'The sacrifice of the one who bears it'… what does that even mean?"
No one answered right away.
And that silence alone was already far too cruel.
Kael turned toward her, his gaze darker than the night itself.
"Whatever it means," he said in a low but firm voice, "we are not accepting it."
The sanctuary's voice echoed again, merciless and cold:
Without the choice of the Gate, the old world will collapse.
Without the Thread, bound souls will be doomed to lose each other forever.
Lyra felt her chest constrict violently.
Lost.
Forever.
All their cycles.
All their lives.
All their pain.
Everything they had gone through just to find one another…
condemned to repeat endlessly.
Kael stared straight ahead.
Then he said, in a calm and icy voice:
"We'll find another way."
For a moment, even the sanctuary seemed to hesitate.
The wind rose through the hall, sending shards of colored glass dancing across the white marble floor.
Then the light around the circle shifted.
It became softer.
Deeper.
And slowly, behind the throne, the staircase leading to the Archives opened further.
As though the place had granted them a chance.
Or a warning.
Eryan drew a deep breath.
"It's letting us pass."
Lyra stared at the steps disappearing into the depths.
Then at Kael.
Then at Eryan.
The fear was still there.
Terrible.
Alive.
But something stronger was beginning to take its place.
Determination.
"Then we go down," she said.
Kael looked at her for a long moment.
Then he nodded once.
"We go down."
Eryan raised his white light, and together, they moved toward the dark stairway.
Their footsteps echoed into the ancient spiral, slowly swallowed by the depths of the sanctuary.
Behind them, in the throne chamber, the runes dimmed one by one.
But just before the final light vanished…
a dark figure briefly appeared at the top of the shattered arches.
Still.
Silent.
Watching their descent.
Malrik.
His golden eyes gleamed in the darkness.
And a slow, almost gentle smile curved his lips.
Like the smile of someone who already knew that, sooner or later…
the Gate of Return would belong to him.