Morning came, but it didn't feel like a new day—just another hour tacked onto a night that hadn't ended.
Even after logging out, even after the Lexicon's glow faded from the screen—something still felt off. I stared at the ceiling of my dorm room, every breath shallow, every thought pulling me backward.
Back to that question:
Do you want to be written into the world?
I hadn't answered.
But I also hadn't said no.
The pod hummed quietly beside me, still running a cooldown cycle. My laptop sat closed on the desk. The faintest glint of dust moved across the surface, catching in the glow of the streetlights outside.
No glyphs now. No runes. Just silence.
But I didn't trust it.
I boiled water for once—real tea, not powdered broth—and sat by the window as the sun rose behind gray clouds. My terminal pinged softly.
[Reminder: Tuition Payment Hold – 28 Hours Remaining][Account Balance: -$276.44]
My jaw tightened. I wasn't surviving on adrenaline. Not really. I was surviving on avoidance.
I thought about logging in. Finishing quests. Selling materials. Trying the player-market auction to make a few dollars. But it all felt so distant.
Ascension had never just been a game. But now it felt less like a world I entered… and more like one that was following me home.
When I finally returned to the pod, I hesitated. Hand hovering over the interface.
The dive command blinked. I selected Quick Reconnect.
And descended again.
I woke inside the shrine ruins near Duskridge, seated exactly where I'd left off. The Lexicon sat in the dirt beside me, closed, but faintly humming.
Lyra sat across from me, legs pulled up against her chest, a neutral expression on her face.
"You were out for a while," she said quietly.
"Just a few hours," I replied.
She gave a tired nod, but I could tell she hadn't rested either.
"You saw it too?" I asked.
"The glyph?" she said. "Yeah. But it was worse than that."
She glanced toward the center of the shrine.
"It wasn't just unstable—it was directed. Like it wanted something. Like it… knew me."
I reached for the Lexicon, but before I could open it—
[SYSTEM WARNING: Thread Conflict Detected – Listener Input Source Unstable]Query Reference: Chapel.Root.Error:01Recommended Action: Isolation Pending
The message pulsed briefly across my HUD—visible only to me—then vanished before I could interact with it.
I frowned. "We need to go back to the chapel."
Lyra gave me a look. "Are you sure that's smart?"
"No," I said. "But I think it's necessary."
She stood with a sigh. "You and your great ideas."
The chapel stood in the hollow like a memory that wasn't quite finished.
Its stone steps were cracked. The stained-glass window above the entrance now flickered intermittently—an effect that hadn't been there before.
We crossed the threshold.
Inside, nothing attacked us. No glyphs. No signs of the Nullwatcher or the man in chains.
Just silence.
Then, the Lexicon fluttered open—unprompted.
A new glyph formed across both pages, mirrored like twin wings.
[Glyph: Threadbind | Variant Detected – User Echo]Effect: Binds fractured memory threads to stable anchors within local space. Warning: Casting this glyph may trigger residual system fragments.
I glanced at Lyra. "Do you trust me?"
She blinked. "That's a loaded question."
"I'm going to try something."
Before she could argue, I began sketching the glyph into the air—one half with my finger, one half guided by the Lexicon's floating quill.
It took concentration. A lot of it.
The moment the last line connected, the world shivered.
Stone became mist. The pews faded. The walls… shifted.
And we weren't alone anymore.
A ghosted memory stood in the middle of the chapel. A person. Not quite real. Not quite transparent either.
A girl. Mid-twenties. Wearing what looked like early player gear—simple robes, a copper staff. Her name flickered:
[Echoed User: Talia.Vermillion // Listener.Tag.Prototype]
She was casting. Desperately. The same glyph over and over again. Trying to seal something in the back of the chapel—an area we hadn't been able to reach before.
But her hands phased through the stone.
The memory wasn't whole.
I whispered, "She's like me…"
The ghost snapped her head toward me like she'd heard it—and then disappeared, shattering into glyphlight that poured into the altar.
A soft sound followed.
Not a roar. Not static.
Just a heartbeat.
[New Tag Log Located – Entry NULL.02]
The Lexicon flipped again.
A message formed:
Some Listeners weren't erased. Some were just trapped too deep to surface. Do you still want to be remembered, Aiden Chase?
I didn't answer.
Lyra stepped beside me, staring at the same page.
"Is it just me," she said slowly, "or are the questions getting personal?"
I nodded. "It knows my name now."