They went with them.
Not because they trusted them.
Not because they were scared.
But because the answers they needed—the truth—were hidden deep in the Veil's archives.
And truth, Lina had learned, was worth walking into a trap for.
The carriage smelled of old magic and forgotten promises. Runes pulsed faintly beneath the velvet upholstery. The windows reflected nothing—not the forest, not the road, not even their own faces.
Theo sat close, one hand resting protectively near the sigil still glowing through his shirt. He hadn't said a word since they left the house.
Lina finally broke the silence. "That drawing in the book—the one where I held the blade. You saw it, didn't you?"
He nodded. "And I saw what came after."
She waited.
"The world burned."
The carriage stopped.
The woman—the silver-haired envoy—opened the door. "We've arrived."
What stood before them was no temple.
It was a city.
Buried underground.
Lina stepped out and saw it: endless towers of ink-black stone spiraling through a cavern lit by floating orbs of pale light. Bridges stretched like threads between buildings. Figures in long robes moved silently, each one marked with a version of the closed-eye sigil.
The woman led them to a tall hall guarded by statues that bled smoke.
"This is the Archive," she said. "Your bloodline's sins are stored here."
Theo frowned. "And ours?"
The woman paused.
"You… are a question still being written."
Inside, scrolls whispered.
Not figuratively. They whispered.
As the Order's members passed by, the paper curled and trembled, murmuring spells, secrets, warnings.
Lina and Theo were taken to a room at the top of a spiral staircase. No windows. A single bed. A viewing mirror enchanted to see only what the Veil permitted.
And a locked door.
Alone, finally, Theo exhaled. "They don't trust us."
"Good," Lina said, already scanning the mirror for weaknesses. "We don't trust them either."
She turned to him.
"But we're here. And we'll play nice. Until they show us what they're hiding."
He nodded. "And then?"
She smiled—sharp, dangerous.
"Then we show them the mistake of underestimating the wrong Lina Reyes."
The room they were given wasn't meant to be comfortable.
It was meant to observe them.
The mirror shimmered softly in the corner—watchful, silent. Lina was pretending to sleep, back to the wall, blade tucked under her pillow.
Theo sat on the floor, hunched forward, clutching his chest.
The mark was burning.
Not a slow pulse like before.
This was a summons.
As if something beneath the city had woken up—
And recognized him.
He bit down a cry as light seared through the fabric of his shirt. Lines of gold stretched out from the center of the sigil like veins, racing up his neck and down his arm.
He stood, dizzy, the walls pulsing around him like they were breathing with him now.
Lina sat up immediately. "Theo?"
He was already at the door.
"Something's calling me."
Lina crossed the room in seconds. "You think it's a trap?"
He looked at her, eyes brighter than they should've been. "I think I'm the trap."
The mirror flared white as he stepped past it. The door—supposedly sealed—unlatched itself.
Theo paused. "Did you see that?"
Lina nodded slowly. "I think the sigil just outranked the locks."
They slipped into the stone hallway, barefoot and silent. Runes blinked faintly as they passed, but none tried to stop them.
As they descended deeper—past halls no longer lit, past rooms covered in dust and forgotten glyphs—the pull intensified.
It was like being dragged by gravity.
A memory that didn't belong to him flashed in his mind:
A tall chamber. A voice that echoed in no known language. A cage made of light, and a name written in blood.
They stopped in front of a sealed archway carved into obsidian.
Lina raised a hand to touch it—
And the wall dissolved.
Not crumbled. Not broke.
Unmade.
Inside, the room was freezing.
A circle of silver chains lay in the center, coiled like a serpent. Around it, dozens of sigils glowed on the floor—not like Theo's, but cracked and broken. As if they had burned out trying to hold something inside.
And at the very center of the circle…
A figure.
Pale. Motionless. Kneeling.
His face was hidden by a veil.
But Theo didn't need to see it.
Because the mark on his own chest was now a mirror of the one glowing on the stranger's back.
Lina took a slow, deliberate step forward. "Theo… that's not you, is it?"
The figure looked up.
And Theo's voice—colder, older, sharper—whispered from its mouth:
"Took you long enough."