Chapter Fourteen: What Was Never Meant to Be Held
They argued about the vial for exactly twelve steps.
"It should not be anywhere near you," Maelra said.
"It's literally humming at them," Kerris replied. "That feels like destiny."
"That feels like a trap."
Tamsin walked between them, clutching the satchel to her chest. "For the record, I did not steal this so it could start a philosophical debate in an alley."
Aerin said nothing.
The vial's presence pressed against them like a held breath. Not loud. Not urgent. Just… patient. As if it had been waiting for someone who could finally hear it.
They ducked into an abandoned dye-house, the air sharp with old chemicals and rot. Light filtered in through cracked shutters, striping the floor.
Maelra barred the door.
"Put it down," she ordered.
Tamsin hesitated, then placed the satchel on a table.
Kerris leaned over it. "Okay. Ground rules. Nobody touches the glowing memory juice."
Aerin took a step back.
The hum surged.
The satchel tipped.
"No—" Tamsin started.
Too late.
The vial rolled, struck the table's edge, and shattered.
Golden liquid spilled across the wood like molten light.
Kerris stared. "…I didn't touch it."
The echo burst outward.
Not violently.
Intimately.
Aerin gasped as the world tilted.
They weren't standing in the dye-house anymore.
They were standing barefoot on warm stone, the sky above them split with stars that moved too slowly. Around them, pillars rose—massive, patient, alive with quiet purpose.
A voice spoke—not in words, but in weight.
I held the city.
Aerin's knees buckled.
They felt hands—many hands—pressing against their back. Builders. Children. The tired and the hopeful. All leaning, trusting, resting.
I endured.
The memory poured in.
Stone shaped by song. Foundations laid not with tools, but with promises. A city grown from harmony, not conquest.
And then—
Fear.
Cracks.
A sudden, violent taking.
The pillars screamed.
Aerin screamed.
They slammed back into their body, collapsing onto the floor as the golden light rushed into their chest, sealing itself deep beneath their ribs.
Silence followed.
Real silence. Heavy. Absolute.
Tamsin knelt beside them, panicked. "What—what happened?"
Aerin shook, clutching their chest. "It—it was a city."
Maelra froze. "That echo was structural."
Kerris swallowed. "You mean like… architecture?"
"No," Maelra said slowly. "I mean identity."
Aerin looked up, eyes wide and shining with something old.
"It was alive," they whispered. "And it's… gone."
The hum beneath the ground answered.
Not curious now.
Recognizing.
Far across the city, the Veilbound Choir stopped singing in unison.
The Conductor's hand tightened.
"That," she said softly, "was theft."
Aerin curled inward, breath shaking.
Something ancient had taken root inside them.
And it was very tired of being forgotten.