The castle was not alive.
But it remembered things.
Elira walked through its halls under Serin's watchful distance and Kael's silent shadow.
Paintings lined the walls-faces scratched out. Kingdoms burned. Names erased.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" a voice said.
An old man stood from the shadows.
Maelor the Archivist.
He bowed slightly to Elira.
"You are the first guest I've seen in a long time who is not already dead."
Elira didn't smile. "Comforting."
Maelor chuckled.
Kael appeared behind them without sound.
"Leave," Kael said.
Maelor didn't flinch. "Of course, Your Ruin."
But as he passed Elira, he whispered:
"The bond is not a punishment."
Elira's eyes narrowed. "Then what is it?"
Maelor's smile faded.
"A lock."
Then he left.
Serin stepped closer. "I don't like this place."
"Neither do I," Elira said.
Kael watched her.
"You will learn to," he said.
And for some reason—
That sounded less like a threat.
And more like inevitability.