Asterley's chapel had always felt… off.
Too quiet. Too preserved.
The pews were untouched by dust, though no one ever cleaned them.
The candles were always unlit, but they never melted.
And the altar — heavy, ancient stone — had never been moved.
Until tonight.
---
The mark on Haera's shoulder itches all morning, tugging her southward like a second spine.
Cairos follows silently, the soul ledger tucked beneath his coat. They speak only through glances now — their minds syncing the way old souls do.
Every step toward the chapel feels heavier.
The marble doors groan open, spilling candlelight that shouldn't exist.
No one is inside.
But someone's been here.
---
At the altar, the symbol of the Watcher — the crescent spiral with three dots — has been scratched deep into the wood.
Beneath it, an inscription glows faintly:
> "Only the marked may enter. Only the broken may return."
Haera steps forward.
The floor shifts.
The altar slides with a long, grinding moan — revealing stone steps descending into darkness.
The air shifts. Colder. Older.
Cairos lights a match.
They descend.
---
The stairwell is narrower than expected — as though not built for the living. Each wall is carved with names. Some familiar. Some haunting:
Solenne.
Lilienne.
Mireya.
Astra.
Haera.
All of them… her.
---
They reach the bottom.
A round room opens up — domed ceiling, walls of black stone, and in the center: a single obsidian door.
No handle.
No lock.
Just the mark again — pulsing.
---
Haera touches it.
The stone hisses. Glows.
A slit opens.
And a voice, deep and ancient, bleeds through:
> "Have you come to finish it, or to forget again?"
---
Cairos grips her arm. "You don't have to answer."
But she already knows what she came for.
"I came to remember everything."
---
The door melts into shadow.
Beyond it — a room of floating lights.
Each orb pulses with memory, alive and waiting.
A massive tree rises from the center — roots tangled in bones, branches reaching toward something unseen.
At its base, a single word carved in silver:
> "NEXUS."
---
Haera walks forward, hand outstretched.
A light drifts toward her, brushing her fingertips.
It's a memory.
One she hasn't seen.
---
A battlefield.
She stands in armor.
Blood stains her blade.
Cairos — dying beside her.
She holds his face.
"I'll find you again," she cries.
He smiles through blood.
"Even if it kills you?"
And she had whispered:
> "Especially if it kills me."
---
The memory fades.
Another replaces it.
A library.
Cairos is bound to a chair.
Haera wears red robes.
She's the one holding the knife.
She's interrogating him — but she's crying.
And when she cuts him, she whispers,
> "I'm sorry. I need you to remember too."
---
Each orb is a version of herself that had to sacrifice to get here.
Haera collapses to her knees.
"How many times did I die?"
Cairos kneels beside her.
"No. The question is — how many times did you fight?"
---
The Nexus hums louder.
The tree begins to bloom.
Black roses. Thorned. Glowing faintly.
One drops into Haera's palm.
On it: an inscription burned in its petal.
> "When the Watcher falls, the cycle ends."
---
They rise.
The shadows swirl around them.
And for the first time, a door appears — not behind, but ahead.
An exit.
Haera grips the soul ledger. "We take the fight to him."
Cairos nods.
"The war begins tonight."
---
But as they step through the door…
They are watched.
High above, cloaked in the ceiling of shadows, the Watcher leans against the wall of time, expression unreadable.
And he says only one thing:
> "Let them come."