The Codex Guardian's blind eyes fixed on Obavva.
"To earn the Codex, you must survive the Maze of Forgotten Names," she said."What's the price?" Obavva asked."The truth. Of who you were. Who you are. And who you must become."
Behind the Guardian, a vast door of inked stone hissed open. A black wind howled from within, carrying the scent of ancient betrayal.
Obavva stepped forward.
Reva grabbed her wrist. "You don't even know what's inside."
"I know enough," Obavva whispered. "That it will try to break me by erasing me."
The chamber beyond swallowed light.
It was circular. Endless. Silent.
She stood on a narrow stone path, suspended in darkness. At its center floated fragments of memory—some hers, some not. Faces flickered like dying stars. Voices echoed. Time blurred.
Then the Guardian's voice filled the void:
"Name yourself."
Obavva replied firmly: "I am Obavva. Tunnel-keeper. Defender of Chitradurga."
The void responded by tearing open.
The first trial struck without warning.
She found herself back in her childhood home—except it was wrong.
Her mother was gone.
Her father, distant.
The village was razed.
No one recognized her.
"You never existed," a child hissed. "You're just a myth. A tale made to scare Mysore soldiers."
The walls pulsed with lies. Her memories fractured.
She clutched her onake tightly. "I remember the taste of river mud. I remember the night I saw the Eye for the first time. I exist."
The child dissolved into ash.
The path reformed.
Trial one—survived.
Second trial.
She was now on the battlefield—except this time, she was not fighting.
She was kneeling.
Bound.
The Eye towered above her.
So did Reva. Ayana. Even Kaashi.
All of them wore Mysore colors.
"You chose wrong," Reva said coldly."You led us to our death," Ayana added."You should've stayed in the tunnel," Kaashi muttered.
Obavva blinked. The guilt weighed like boulders. The air thickened.
"They will all fall because of your pride," whispered the Eye.
But then she remembered: Reva's loyalty, Ayana's courage, Kaashi's sarcasm hiding fear.
"You're not them," she said.
The scene shattered.
Trial two—endured.
The third trial struck hardest.
Obavva stood in a void.
And before her—
Herself.
But younger. Unsure. Weaker.
"Why did you abandon me?" her younger self asked. "Why did you bury our softness just to become steel?"
Obavva couldn't speak.
The younger Obavva cried. "You made me a weapon. You turned pain into armor. But I still dream, you know. Of rivers. Of songs. Of peace."
Silence.
Obavva dropped her onake.
Kneeling, she reached forward.
"I'm sorry," she said. "But I had to fight. So that others could still dream."
Her younger self nodded.
Merged into her.
The path cleared.
Trial three—passed.
A final voice rang out:
"You remember. Therefore, you live."
A staircase descended from the dark above.
Obavva climbed it slowly.
Each step etched with a name—warriors, poets, midwives, orphans—all forgotten by history.
At the top, she found a single scroll suspended in starlight.
The Codex of Echoes.
It pulsed when she touched it.
The knowledge flooded her mind.
She staggered out of the maze.
Kaashi rushed to her. "You're alive!"
Reva helped her stand. "What did you see?"
Obavva held up the Codex. "I saw the first sentence ever written in resistance. I saw the forbidden names. I saw the weapon that cannot be unmade."
Ayana's eyes widened. "What weapon?"
Obavva looked at her.
"The Story Itself. The Mouth of Silence rewrites. But the Codex remembers. And now… so do I."
Back in the chamber, the Codex Guardian bowed.
"You carry it now. But beware. The Mouth will come for it. For you."
Obavva nodded. "Let him come."
The Loom flared behind her.
The war was no longer one of swords and strategy.
It was a war of memory.
Of names.
Of truth.
And Obavva would become the story that could not be erased.
End of Chapter Seventeen