Chapter 19 – The Living Wells
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The road eastward no longer wound through land.
It passed through echoes.
The trees they passed murmured memories in Anterz's voice.
Ponds shimmered with reflections of moments that hadn't happened yet.
And in the wind, the Choir King's presence pulsed—a steady, silent beat that grew stronger with each mile.
They were close.
Not to a place.
To something worse.
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They reached a valley ringed by dead sentinels: statues of beings no living tongue could name.
And there, among them, a man waited.
Scarred. Haggard. Kneeling at the foot of a long-dried fountain.
Elaria stopped in her tracks.
Anterz stared.
Then whispered:
"Deren."
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Once, Deren had been a thief.
A liar.
A killer for gold and song.
Then he had joined their rebellion. Helped bring down the Tower.
Helped kill gods.
And then vanished.
They had spared him.
Not out of mercy.
But because he begged to be forgotten.
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He looked up now, slowly.
His eyes were glass.
His mouth cracked from disuse.
But his voice—
Unmistakable.
"You shouldn't have come," he rasped.
Anterz stepped forward.
"Are you the Fifth?"
Deren nodded.
"Not by choice."
He placed a hand to his chest.
"The Well is in me."
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Elaria drew in a breath that shook her frame.
"How?"
Deren looked at her.
"You two destroyed the first Well. The one in the ground."
"I was nearby. Dying."
"The Choir... had no anchor."
"So they used me."
"They stitched their memory into my marrow."
He smiled, bleak and bitter.
"I'm not a man anymore."
"I'm a story."
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He stood, limbs trembling.
And as he moved, the valley changed.
The stones bent toward him.
The statues wept.
Even the sun flickered as if remembering his death.
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Anterz stepped closer.
"I don't want to kill you."
"I know."
"But I will," he said.
"I know that too."
Deren's smile widened.
"There's something worse, you know."
Elaria tensed.
He looked at her.
"There's a sixth Well."
"Hidden."
She whispered:
"Where?"
Deren pointed to Anterz.
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Silence.
Then:
"Impossible," Anterz said.
But his voice was hollow.
He felt it.
A weight behind his ribs.
A pressure in his blood.
A truth he had refused to consider.
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Deren's voice cracked.
"You were the one who broke the Tower. You were the rupture. You were the first Choir—even before you knew what song they'd write."
He fell to one knee.
"I've seen it. A thousand worlds where you fall. A thousand more where you join him."
"And only one where you win."
"Only one."
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Elaria looked at Anterz.
Eyes wide. Raw.
"Is it true?"
He didn't answer.
Couldn't.
Because memory stirred in him.
And in the corners of his mind—
He heard singing.
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Deren opened his arms.
"I'm not begging."
"I just want it to be you."
"Let it end here."
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Anterz stepped forward.
Valteris in hand.
But it felt heavier than it ever had before.
He looked into Deren's eyes.
And saw not fear.
Only relief.
He raised the blade—
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And stopped.
"No," he said.
Elaria blinked.
"What?"
Anterz turned to her.
"If I kill him, we lose his fight."
"He resisted."
"And that's stronger than erasure."
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He dropped to one knee.
Placed a hand on Deren's chest.
And whispered:
"Let me carry it now."
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The Well shifted.
The memory pulsed.
And Deren screamed.
So did Anterz.
The valley buckled.
The statues broke.
And when it was done—
Deren lay still.
Not dead.
But emptied.
And Anterz...
Glowed.
Faintly.
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Elaria rushed to him.
"Are you—?"
He nodded.
"I carry it now."
"The Fifth."
She stepped back.
"And the Sixth?"
Anterz's smile was thin.
"That one... was always mine."
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Far away, the Choir King stood in his cathedral of living light.
And laughed.
Because his final song had begun.
And it would be Anterz who sang it.
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