The Codex no longer whispered to Serelith.
It sang.
A hum beneath her ribs, like distant thunder, like a war drum only she could hear. The visions had grown sharper—less chaotic. They did not drown her now; they followed her will.
And with them came understanding.
Not just of the Hollow Queen or the shattered courts.
But of herself.
Serelith was not born to wield the Codex.
She was it.
A vessel of living memory. A child carved from a fracture in time, hidden in the mortal realm so the gods could not find her. The queen had feared her. The gods had cursed her. And the Codex had waited for her.
And now she was awake.
---
She found Faelan in the training circle, carving invisible lines into the air with his blade.
"You lied to me," she said simply.
He froze. "What did you see?"
"I saw the first Codex. I saw the gods who broke it. I saw why they fear it. Why they fear me."
Faelan lowered the sword. "You weren't ready."
"And now?"
He stepped close. "Now, I would follow you into the end of all things."
She looked up at him, the silence between them thick with the weight of unsaid truths.
"You've known more than you ever told me," she said. "About the Hollow Queen. About your court. About what they plan."
Faelan's voice was low. "They want to bind you. Force you into a pact with the old gods. Use your memory to rewrite fate in their image."
"And if I refuse?"
"They'll break you. Or worse—make you forget."
Serelith's hands trembled, but not with fear.
With fury.
"I will burn them to ash," she whispered.
Faelan nodded. "Then we'll need allies. And we'll need to move quickly."
---
That night, they stood before the ancient map chamber.
Faelan laid out the fractured realms—the Hollow Court, the Sea of Teeth, the crumbling spires of the Shattered God's domain. Places forgotten by time. Places that remembered the Codex.
Serelith pressed her palm to the central glyph.
The map bled light.
And deep in the east, an old mark ignited—one that had not shone in centuries.
A name: Vaerethryn.
A ruined city swallowed by shadow.
"The last place the Codex was whole," Faelan said. "And the heart of the Hollow Queen's rise."
Serelith stared at it.
"Then that's where we go."
---
But as they prepared to leave, the Hollow Court struck.
The temple walls howled with sudden magic—cold and coiled and familiar.
From the shadows stepped three figures in silver masks.
Emissaries of the Hollow Queen.
"Come home, Faelan," one said. "Or we tear the girl from your side."
Faelan stepped forward.
"I am no longer of your court," he said, voice sharp as steel.
They laughed. "Then die with her."
The battle was swift—and brutal.
Blades sang. Spells shattered stone. Serelith let the Codex guide her, weaving memories into shields, into spears of light. Faelan fought like a storm made flesh, his blade singing with silent rage.
And when the last of the queen's hounds fell, Serelith stood gasping in the ruin of what had been their sanctuary.
Faelan turned to her, blood trailing down his cheek.
"She's coming herself next," he said. "We've made our move."
Serelith stared at the stars through the shattered roof.
"Then let her come," she whispered.
"I remember everything now."