Chapter 36 – Beneath the Dust of Time
The Hanging Archives weren't on any modern map.
Built vertically into the cliffside of Old Graven's eastern wall, they were once a fortress of knowledge—part library, part prison, and part observatory. No citizen had entered in decades.
Because no one could.
The entrance only opened to one with Heir-level Echo access.
Rayven's hand hovered above the terminal stone—shaped like a lion's skull, embedded with dormant tech-runes.
He hesitated.
Nyra stepped beside him. "This is what you came here for, Rayven."
He nodded once and placed his palm against the surface.
The stone hissed, cracked—and melted like wax.
The cliff wall split open with a deep groan, revealing a dark passageway lit by soft golden strands of memory-light.
They entered.
The Archives pulsed with ancient power.
Thousands of data scrolls, Echo capsules, and neural anchors floated in the air. Some rotated gently. Others whispered as they passed. Words, phrases, names—echoes of those who had lived and died in Graven's forgotten wars.
But the real heart of the Archives lay below.
Down a spiral stair of transparent crystal.
Every step triggered projections—glimpses of Rayven's forgotten past.
A man in silver armor arguing with the Council.
Rayven's voice, younger, sharper. "We can't let Kael near the Source. He's not ready. He's not stable."
Another flash.
A ruined lab. Flames. Rayven clutching a child's body. "What have I done?"
Nyra touched his arm gently. "Are you okay?"
"No," he murmured. "But I need to see more."
At the bottom of the Archives, they found a sealed chamber.
Rayven stared at the vault's door—a perfect circle with seven interlocking rings. Each ring was engraved with a symbol: Memory, Power, Sacrifice, Truth, Fire, Blood… and the last one, blank.
He reached into his jacket and retrieved the broken shard Ashen had given him back in Chapter 12—the memory crystal with his name etched in fractured light.
It fit perfectly into the center.
The vault opened.
Inside was a single object:
A black cube floating in the air—surrounded by orbiting fragments of crystal.
Rayven stepped forward. As he neared it, the air shimmered, and a voice filled the chamber—his voice, recorded long ago:
"If you're hearing this… you've lost everything. Again."
Nyra's breath caught in her throat.
Rayven froze.
The recording continued.
"You're me. A version, a shadow, maybe a survivor. It doesn't matter. What matters is this: the city was never supposed to wake. If it does… the war we lost might begin again."
"Kael wasn't the only one we sealed away. There are others. Ones we couldn't control. And when the Seals break… they'll return."
"Don't trust anyone. Not even the ones who followed you in the last life."
"Especially not Ashen."
The message ended.
The cube dissolved.
And beneath it—was a symbol neither Rayven nor Nyra had ever seen before: three interlocking rings, each marked with a different heir's crest.
Rayven's. Kael's. And a third—one he didn't recognize.
Nyra stepped closer. "That's… a tri-heir bond. From before the Collapse. It's extinct."
Rayven whispered, "Unless one survived."
Suddenly, the air around them pulsed.
The Archives trembled.
An alarm rang out—a deep, ancient warning tone that hadn't sounded in over two centuries.
INTRUSION DETECTED.
SHADOWSCOURGE PRESENCE CONFIRMED.
Rayven and Nyra spun toward the stairs as black mist began seeping into the chamber—thick and cold, laced with Echo disruption particles.
Figures formed in the dark—tall, twisted shapes in crimson masks.
Kael's hunters had arrived.
Rayven's Echo surged.
His left hand lit with a white flame.
"Get ready," he growled. "They're not here to take prisoners."
Nyra drew her twin pistols, eyes narrowed.
"Good. I'm not in the mood to negotiate."
And as the first wave of Shadowscourge leapt forward, fangs gleaming—
The war for the truth began.