#6
The darkness in the tunnel was not merely the absence of light; it was an entity. It pressed against their skin, seeped into their lungs, and whispered with a voice that was not a voice. The small crystal in Thalia's hand emitted a pale, steady glow, creating a fragile bubble of reality they could cling to. Beyond it, only wild echoes churned.
"They… won't stop," Kaelen hissed between heavy breaths. He glanced back into the darkness they had left behind. "Psionic Inquisitors… they can track our echoes. Like hounds."
"Then we erase the trail," Thalia replied, her mind racing despite her pounding heart. Roland. She forced herself not to think about her master's body lying motionless. She had to focus on what he had left her. She tightened her grip on the memory crystal. "You said your community, the Listeners, has a way to hide echoes?"
Kaelen nodded, his face tense. "But it's far. And we can't go back to Heartwood Grove. Felwin and the others will have surrounded it by now." He paused, listening. "Here. Turn left."
They left the narrow tunnel and entered a larger natural cavern. Water dripped from the stalactites, each drop releasing a tiny echo of silence that rebounded a thousand times. At the center lay a pool of clear water reflecting their crystal light. Around it grew luminous blue mushrooms, glowing softly and emitting gentle, calming vibrations.
"Luminous Caps," Kaelen said, kneeling by the pool. "Their spores create a natural psionic dampening field. This can buy us time." He carefully gathered a few, rubbing their pale blue spores onto their wrists and temples. The air filled with the scent of earth and metal, and Thalia felt a strange calm settle over her mind, like a blanket muffling the outside world.
"How do you know all this?" Thalia asked as Kaelen applied the spores to her temples.
"When someone grows up as a Memory Leech on the fringes of Gloomwald, they learn two things: how to hide, and how to survive." Kaelen didn't look at her. "My community… they're good people. But the world out there sees us as defective, dangerous. We learned how to be invisible." He finished and sank onto a rock, exhausted. "We'll rest here for a bit. This spore field should blur our echoes for at least a few hours."
Thalia nodded and sat beside him. She took out Roland's memory crystal. It felt warm, almost alive. "I have to see this."
"Now? Roland said it was about your mother's final research."
"That's exactly why it can't wait," Thalia said softly. "Melpomene will do anything to stop us. We need to know what we're facing." She took a deep breath and focused on the crystal.
She wasn't a Memory Leech; she couldn't extract raw memories. But as an Echo-Whisperer, she could sense what lingered within—fragments of Roland's intent, the emotions he felt when he recorded it.
She closed her eyes and touched the crystal with her soul.
The echo came not as images, but as a letter.
A letter never sent.
My dearest Thalia,
If you are reading this, then I have failed to protect you. And that means you have found your way to the truth I kept hidden for so long. Forgive me—not for hiding it, but for denying you the choice.
Your mother's final research, Althea's, was not about the Silent Heart itself. It was about what is imprisoned within it. We have long been taught that the Celestial Chorus were divine beings who granted their power to the First King. That was a lie.
They are prisoners—entities from another plane of existence, defeated and bound by Aethelun within the artifact we call the Silent Heart. The pact was not a peace treaty; it was a prison agreement. Aethelun gained the power to build his kingdom in exchange for keeping them sealed forever.
And there was a clause in that pact: "The Warden shall uphold the seal with their own blood and memory."
That is why every Grand Chancellor of the Chamber of Whispers, since the beginning, has been the primary Seal Warden. They do not merely manage knowledge; they feed the seal with their own consciousness, their memories. That is why every Chancellor eventually… withdraws, grows cold. They lose pieces of themselves to keep the seal intact.
Althea discovered this. And she discovered something else: the seal is beginning to crack. Whether from time, from the prisoners' hatred, or from successive Chancellors giving less and less of themselves—it is weakening. And if the seal breaks, what then? An enraged Celestial Chorus will be unleashed, and they will exact vengeance upon Aethelun's descendants—upon all of Aethelgard.
She wanted to warn everyone. She wanted to find a way to repair the seal without the endless human sacrifice. But someone within the Chamber—I never learned who—did not want that. They saw the weakening seal as an opportunity. Perhaps for power, perhaps for something darker. They silenced her.
Melpomene witnessed her death and drew the wrong conclusion. She believes the danger lies in the knowledge itself. She thinks that if no one knows the seal is failing, no one will try to fix it—or open it. She chose to perpetuate the cycle of sacrifice and lies to "save" us all from an impossible choice.
But, Thalia, there is another way. Althea believed it. She called it the Phoenix Choice—not to preserve the cage by sacrificing new generations, but to let the old burn and rise again from its ashes through truth. She left clues. She hid her research in a place accessible only to someone with her blood and her gift.
You, Thalia. You are the key.
Seek the Shattered Light within Gloomwald. It will lead you to where she hid everything. But be careful. If the Chamber learns of this, they will stop you. If Melpomene learns of it… she will see you as the greatest threat to the stability she has sacrificed everything to preserve.
I cannot guide you further. But I believe in you. As your mother did.
Be the light she could not be.
— Roland
The echo faded. Thalia opened her eyes, her cheeks wet with tears she hadn't realized were falling. Kaelen watched her, waiting.
"So," Kaelen said slowly after Thalia whispered the letter's contents. "We're not just fighting an overprotective Chancellor. We're fighting a system built on imprisonment and sacrifice. And your mother wanted to tear it down."
"Not tear it down," Thalia corrected, wiping her tears. "Renew it. Rebuild it on an honest foundation. The Phoenix Choice."
"That sounds like something anyone in power would call treason," Kaelen said, standing and adjusting his pack. "'The Shattered Light.' Is that a place? Or an object?"
"I don't know. But we have to find it before the Inquisitors find us." Thalia stood as well, securing the crystal. "We need help. We can't do this alone."
"The Listeners…" Kaelen hesitated. "They hate the Chamber. But they're also afraid of the Silent Concordat—the cult that worships the prisoners. Helping us means choosing a side."
"No. We need someone who's already chosen. Someone who knows the old secrets and isn't afraid of either the Chamber or the Concordat." A small sun of hope ignited in Thalia's chest. "Lady Isolde."
"The old woman who pretends to be senile? What could she do?"
"Elara, the leader of the Listeners, told me to deliver a message to her. 'The senile one still remembers their game of chess. And her queen has moved.' It's a code. Isolde isn't just an old noblewoman. She's a player. And she's already made her move." Thalia felt certain. "We have to go back to Lumenspire."
Kaelen stared at her as if she'd suggested swimming through lava. "Back? They'll arrest us before we reach the gates!"
"Not through the gates." Thalia smiled faintly as a plan took shape. "The sewers we used to escape—they can be an entrance too. And who would think to look for us right under their noses?"
"The same people trying to catch us! That's suicide, Thalia!"
"Or the last thing they'd expect." Thalia placed a hand on Kaelen's shoulder. "We need an ally who knows the palace, who understands politics. Isolde is the only one we have. And she knows about my mother. She might know about the Shattered Light. We have to risk it."
Kaelen let out a long breath, staring into the cavern's darkness. "I always knew befriending an Echo-Whisperer would get me killed young." He looked away. "Fine. But we do it my way. And we go now, while the spores are still masking us."
They left the tranquil pool behind and returned to the labyrinth of Gloomwald. The journey back was even more tense. Every sound made them flinch; every shadow looked like an Inquisitor. But the spore field held—there were no signs of immediate pursuit.
They reached the Silverbane River as dawn began to break, painting the sky in shades of purple and pink. From here, the towers of Lumenspire rose in the distance, like crystal mountains sculpted from arrogance.
"The hardest part," Kaelen whispered as they crawled back into the dark, reeking sewer. "Now we're rats returning to the trap."
The tunnels felt more oppressive as they neared their destination. When they finally pushed aside a loose grate and slipped back into a utility chamber of the Chamber of Whispers, they were greeted by an unnatural silence.
At this early hour, there were usually footsteps of night staff or the rustle of active archives. Now, there was nothing.
"Too quiet," Kaelen hissed.
They moved cautiously, using the same back routes as before. Empty corridors. Dark offices. It seemed the Chamber had been evacuated.
"A sweep," Thalia murmured. "They're hunting us. All hands on deck."
That meant Isolde might not be in her usual place—the private reading room in the noble wing. They would have to search deeper, somewhere more personal.
They took service stairs, avoiding the main lifts. The noble level of the Palace was more opulent, with thick carpets and murals. Here, they were far easier to spot.
"Here," Thalia whispered, pulling Kaelen into a curtained alcove just as two guards passed, speaking in low voices.
"…search across the entire Eastern District. The Chancellor is furious."
"And Master Roland? Any word?"
"Taken to the Tower of Remembrance. Condition unknown."
Thalia held her breath as the guards moved on. Roland was still alive. For now.
They continued, finally reaching the door to Lady Isolde's private apartments. Thalia knocked in a specific pattern—a rhythm she remembered from her only visit here with Roland years ago.
No answer.
She tried again, louder.
The door opened a crack—just enough for a pair of wary, pale blue eyes to peer out. It wasn't a servant, but Isolde herself. She looked older and more fragile than she did in the Chamber, but her gaze was sharp and lucid.
"You two are absolute fools to come back here," she rasped, opening the door just wide enough to pull them inside before closing it quickly. Her sitting room was warm and cluttered with books and maps. "The entire palace is searching for you. Melpomene has unleashed the Inquisitors."
"We need your help," Thalia said bluntly. "Elara sent a message. 'The queen has moved.'"
Isolde paused, then made a sound like a choke—a dry laugh. "So she's finally decided to interfere. Very well." She crossed to her desk, sliding aside a map. "Do you know about the Phoenix Choice?"
Thalia stared. "How do you—"
"Because, child, I am that queen." Isolde met her gaze, and for a moment all pretense fell away, revealing a woman of razor intellect and iron resolve. "Elara and I—and a few others—we've been waiting. Waiting for someone like Althea. And now, for you."
"You… you worked with my mother?"
"I was her mentor. And regrettably, I could not save her." Genuine pain crossed Isolde's face. "But I can help you finish what she began. The Shattered Light is not a place. It is an event. A phenomenon that occurs once every fifty years in the heart of Gloomwald, when moonlight passes through a fracture in the Great Canopy and illuminates an ancient monolith. That monolith is the key to where Althea hid her research."
"When does it happen?" Kaelen asked.
"Three nights from now," Isolde replied. "And that's why everything is escalating. Melpomene knows the calendar as well. She knows that if any descendant of Althea lives, they will be drawn there when the Light appears. She has reinforced patrols along the Gloomwald border and will surely send Inquisitors to the site."
"So it's a trap," Thalia murmured.
"It's a test," Isolde corrected. "And an opportunity. Because when the Shattered Light strikes the monolith, it briefly weakens the seal of the Silent Heart. That's why Althea chose that place. It is the moment when the Phoenix Choice can be made—to reinforce the seal forever by a new method, or…" Isolde trailed off.
"Or free the prisoners," Thalia finished softly.
"Or negotiate," Isolde said. "That was Althea's true aim. Not endless imprisonment, not blind release. Dialogue. A new pact." She sighed. "That is why she was killed. To many in the Chamber, the idea of negotiating with those 'creatures' was an affront. To others, it threatened their power."
"So what do we do?" Thalia asked, overwhelmed.
"You must reach the monolith before the Inquisitors. You must open your mother's cache. And then…" Isolde looked at her steadily. "You must choose. Repair a broken system—or attempt to build a new one. A phoenix needs fire to be reborn, Thalia. The question is: what are you willing to burn?"
Outside the window, the palace bells rang, marking the changing of the guard. Their sound echoed—like a prelude to a future rushing closer.
Isolde handed them a map to the monolith and a small supply kit. "Go. And remember—within Gloomwald, don't only listen to the echoes of the past. Listen to the songs of the future as well. They may be singing the same tune."
Thalia and Kaelen slipped back into the shadows. They had a map, a deadline, and an impossible choice.
And somewhere in Gloomwald, beneath a moon soon to be split by light, the future of Aethelgard waited to be written—or burned.