The wall did not shatter. It unfolded.
Stone rippled outward like silk caught in windless tide, silent and slow. Dust curled off its edges, glowing faintly in the golden pulse from Evelyn's core. She stood unmoving at the dais, breath shallow, voice lost in the lingering echo of the note that had opened the path.
Torren broke the silence. "That wasn't you singing, was it?"
Evelyn shook her head. "I don't think I could've stopped it if I'd tried."
"Lovely," muttered Vareth. "Let's hope whatever's in there doesn't require an encore."
Behind the shifting wall was a vast hollowed chamber, more symmetrical than the rest of the old tunnelways—constructed with purpose. Obsidian pillars rimmed the space like teeth, and carved between them were long channels of crystal, dimly lit, yet alive. The sound in the chamber was subtle—less of a hum now, more like whispering wind through cracked reeds. Whispering... or speaking?
They stepped inside.
Evelyn's shard burned warm against her chest. She pressed her hand over it, grounding herself. The chamber felt like it was watching.
"No footsteps," Torren noted. "No tracks. No dust either."
"There's nothing here," said Vareth, eyes scanning. "But that doesn't mean it's empty."
At the center of the room stood another pedestal—twin to the first, but this one wasn't empty. Upon it hovered a fragmented sphere of mirrored stone, fractured along jagged seams. It turned slowly in the air, unsupported, its cracks faintly weeping threads of gold-orange flame. The same color as Evelyn's shard.
Heartfire. Pure. Unrefined.
Evelyn stepped toward it, but Vareth's arm shot out.
"Don't. That is no shard. That's a vault core."
"What's the difference?" she asked.
"The difference," Vareth said, voice clipped, "is that this is alive."
The sphere turned toward her. It shouldn't have—it had no eyes, no face—but she felt its attention shift.
A single word burned across her thoughts:
"Sister."
Evelyn gasped. The shard at her chest thudded, hard. She dropped to one knee.
Torren rushed to her side, but the moment his hand touched her shoulder, something in the air pushed him back—gently, yet forcefully. He staggered, unhurt but separated. Nima whimpered and took cover behind one of the obsidian teeth.
"I'm fine," Evelyn said quickly. "It's… talking."
Not words. Not sound.
Intent.
Memories spilled into her mind—not her own, but ones carried by the core. Battles across sunless plains. Warden lines casting fire into skies torn by ash-winds. Voices chanting beneath moons that had long since shattered. And in all of them, a presence watching: cold, not cruel—but vast.
"What do you want?" Evelyn whispered.
The Vault Core pulsed.
Then the room changed.
Or perhaps her perception did.
Walls shimmered. Pillars deepened. Whispers resolved into words, thousands of overlapping murmurs that pulled at the edge of reason. It was like being inside a memory spun from a thousand lifetimes—all of them speaking at once.
"She shouldn't be touching it!" Vareth hissed, pacing. "This vault was meant to be sealed."
Torren's hand hovered near his blade. "Then why is it open now?"
Vareth didn't answer.
The sphere slowed. Its flames dimmed.
Then it cracked wider—and something stepped out.
Not physically. Not with legs or form. But with presence. A memory, shaped into a figure of flickering orange and gold. A woman cloaked in old Warden robes, sigils stitched in thread that caught light oddly—too old, too fine to be replicated.
She looked like Evelyn.
Or… Evelyn looked like her.
Her voice was pure wind: "If you are hearing this, you are too late."
The memory flickered. Repeated: "Too late. But not yet lost."
Torren stood, stunned.
The memory-woman continued:
"This vault held the remains of the Ash Convergence. What could not be unmade was bound. The echoes learned adaptation. This core is no longer containment. It is translation. A key, born incomplete, awaiting the voice that might open what was never meant to wake."
Evelyn's knees buckled, but she stayed upright.
"If you hold the heartfire, you carry their attention. The Echoed learn faster now. They listen. They imitate. The child must reach the threshold and choose. Burn or bind. Fire or famine."
Then the image fractured—and vanished.
The Vault Core collapsed inward, sparks fading.
Evelyn blinked. The walls were still. No more voices.
Vareth exhaled. "Well. That explains nothing and everything."
"What was that?" Torren said, still helping Evelyn to her feet.
"A final message," she replied. "From someone like me. Or… someone I might become."
Vareth approached the now-empty pedestal. "This vault was locked because the world didn't want its secrets remembered. And now you've let them out."
"I didn't mean—"
"No," he said quietly. "But you were meant to. That's worse."
They turned to leave.
As they reached the archway, Nima pointed to the far wall, where the shimmer had fully faded. "The whispers stopped."
Evelyn nodded. Her shard was quiet now. Still warm—but listening.
So was she.
And behind them, hidden in the hairline fracture of stone—
A single glyph flickered to life.
And began to pulse.