The chamber was finally quiet.
The Reapers had begun sealing the remaining cracks in reality, while Lysara examined the strange symbol.
Rive sat on a broken stone step.
He wasn't looking at anyone.
He was looking at his hands.
"Vikram?"
His mentor sat beside him.
"Yeah?"
"Do you think ghosts can cry?"
Vikram glanced at him.
"Why?"
Rive looked away.
"Just asking."
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Vikram answered.
"Some can."
Rive nodded.
"I thought so."
He rubbed his eyes.
Nothing happened.
Of course nothing happened.
He was a ghost.
He couldn't even cry properly.
"It's stupid," Rive whispered.
"What is?"
"I know that thing wasn't my mother. I knew it was lying."
He stared at the broken floor.
"But when it used her voice…"
His words stopped.
Vikram waited.
Rive finally continued.
"For a second, I forgot I was dead."
Vikram said nothing.
"I thought I could go home. I thought I'd open the door, and she'd be there, and she'd ask why I was late."
His voice grew quieter.
"I wanted her to scold me."
He gave a small, embarrassed laugh.
"Imagine that. I miss getting lectured."
Vikram looked toward the sealed portal.
"There's nothing strange about missing ordinary things."
Rive shook his head.
"I didn't even say goodbye properly."
The words hung between them.
"I kept thinking I'd have more time."
He looked down at his hands again.
"More time to finish my paintings. More time to tell my family what I wanted to do. More time to annoy Arin."
His mouth twitched.
"That last one was a lifelong commitment."
Vikram's expression softened.
Rive continued.
"I never thought the last time I saw my home would be the last time."
He paused.
"And now I don't even know whether I can trust my own memories."
Vikram looked at him.
"Rive, listen to me."
Rive didn't raise his head.
"You are allowed to miss your family. You're allowed to be angry. You're allowed to want your old life back."
Vikram rested a hand on his shoulder.
"But don't let something use that love to turn you into a weapon."
Rive was silent.
Then he asked, "What if I can't tell the difference anymore?"
"Between what?"
"Real memories and fake ones."
Vikram thought for a moment.
"Then don't judge a memory only by how real it feels."
Rive finally looked at him.
"Judge it by what?"
"By what it means to you. By the choices you make because of it. And by whether it asks you to abandon everything you believe in."
Rive considered that.
Then he sighed.
"You're annoyingly good at this emotional advice thing."
"I've had four years of practice."
"Do you have a certificate?"
"No."
"Disappointing. I was going to recommend you for a promotion."
Vikram shook his head.
"You're impossible."
"That's what the Reaper said."
"Unfortunately, the Reaper was correct."
For the first time since the creature appeared, Rive smiled.
It was small.
Fragile.
But it was real.
Then Lysara called from across the chamber.
"Rive! Vikram! You need to see this!"
They hurried toward her.
The black symbol on the floor had changed.
Its three circles were slowly fading.
But beneath them, new writing had appeared.
Ancient letters glowed across the stone.
Lysara's expression was pale.
"What does it say?" Rive asked.
She hesitated.
"It's an old inscription. Older than the current Laws of the Dead."
"Can you read it?"
"Yes."
She looked at Rive.
Then at Vikram.
And finally, she translated the words.
"When the Third Vessel awakens, the forgotten door shall open."
Silence.
Rive stared at the inscription.
"The forgotten door…"
Vikram's face had become unreadable.
Lysara continued.
"When the door opens, the first soul shall return."
Rive slowly turned toward Vikram.
"What does that mean?"
Vikram didn't answer.
"Vikram?"
His mentor looked away.
And that frightened Rive more than the creature had.
Because Vikram always had an answer.
Even when it was a bad one.
Even when it was something Rive didn't want to hear.
This time, however—
He said nothing.
Rive stepped closer.
"You know something."
Vikram closed his eyes.
"I know a story."
"What story?"
"A story about the first soul to cross the boundary between life and death."
Lysara looked up sharply.
"That story is forbidden."
Vikram nodded.
"I know."
Rive's voice grew urgent.
"Then tell me."
Vikram looked at him.
"The story says that the first soul never truly died."
A chill passed through the chamber.
"It was removed from the sequence of life itself. Neither living nor dead. Neither present nor absent."
Rive remembered the missing second.
The frozen street.
The Archive.
The black book.
"And the door?"
Vikram's voice dropped.
"The door was created to keep that soul from returning."
Rive stared at the inscription.
Then he asked the question neither of them wanted to hear.
"Why does it have my symbol?"
Nobody answered.
Because beneath the ancient inscription, the three circles were glowing again.
And the silver line connecting them was slowly transforming into the shape of a key.