The path back from the aqueduct was slow, weighed by the gravity of what had just occurred. Alaric walked in silence, fists clenched, heart burdened not by fear—but by the sickening realization that Gobinot now held the most sacred and dangerous knowledge they had ever uncovered.
Kael's journal—his calepin—had contained details about the Ancients, the ruins, the forgotten languages, and even the fragmented prophecy that had linked Eyoma, Mbanza, and Alokta together. It wasn't just a collection of notes—it was a map to power.
And Gobinot had it.
Back at the high sanctum of Mbanza, Kael sat cross-legged, a book hovering in front of him as glowing runes danced across its pages. He looked up as Alaric entered.
"Did you find it?"
"No," Alaric muttered. "But I found Soma."
Kael's expression darkened. "And?"
"Gone. He turned to dust before I could stop him. And the journal… it's no longer just a book. It's part of a reliquary. Some kind of dark anchor Gobinot is feeding on."
Kael went pale. "Then he's doing it… He's extracting from the memories. Using them as magical conduits. The more he reads, the more he reshapes the world as he sees fit."
A Warning From the Past
That evening, while meditating beneath the Moon Root tree, Alaric saw a vision.
A dream—but more than a dream.
He stood in a foggy field of stars, where a group of silhouettes with glowing sigils surrounded him. One, faceless and draped in a cloak of leaves and bone, stepped forward.
"You've awakened the tether," it said. "The past speaks through you, but your future is not yours alone."
"What does Gobinot want with the Ancients?" Alaric asked, or perhaps thought—the words melted into the air.
"To remake the veil between spirit and flesh. To collapse the wall between memory and power."
Another voice, deeper, echoed from behind. "You, too, carry a seed. What he consumes with greed, you must embody with balance."
And then: silence.
Alaric awoke with sweat on his brow and the faint impression of a glyph burnt into the ground beneath him—one he had seen only once before, carved into the doors of the ruins they had escaped long ago.
The Ancients were watching.
And the war for memory… had already begun.