Lyle sat on the edge of the spire tower that overlooked the heart of Quinn's city.
Far below, the blood-veined streets pulsed in eerie rhythm, as if the city itself were alive—watching, listening, breathing.
The Codex rested on his lap, open but quiet.
For once, it waited.
Waited for him to decide.
> [Trace Origin – ACTIVE or DELAYED?]
Decision required to maintain Codex integrity.
He had the ring.
He had the Architect's glyph.
He had access to Quinn's Shadow techniques.
But even with all that…
He felt hollow.
Like something had already moved ahead of him.
---
Juno stood behind him, arms folded.
She hadn't pushed.
Hadn't questioned.
But the silence between them had stretched longer than ever.
"I don't want to run," Lyle said finally.
Juno tilted her head. "Then don't."
"But I also can't wait around for whoever this is to write my story for me."
She gave a faint smile. "Then write it louder."
He turned, eyes locking with hers. "What would you do?"
Juno didn't hesitate. "I'd chase them. Even if I had no plan. I'd find them before they rewrote me."
---
The Codex pulsed.
> [Trace Origin: Selected]
Signature Lock Engaged.
Anchor Spell Required: Architect Mark Detected – Bypassing Shadow Tracer Restrictions.
Initiating threadwalk in 10… 9…
Lyle's breath caught.
He hadn't chosen.
But the Codex had.
The Architect had.
Juno's eyes widened. "You didn't—?"
"No," he gasped.
He grabbed her wrist. "We're going now."
> 3… 2… 1…
---
The world inverted.
Time tilted.
Their shadows pulled away from them and split into threads.
And then—
They were gone.
---
---
They landed in ash.
Hot. Thick. Suffocating.
The sky was low, choked with smoke. The ground cracked with heat, blood-red veins splitting the black earth.
The ruins of Kretham spread before them—silent.
No screams. No wind. No signs of life.
Just a name, burned into every broken wall.
"Greenbottle."
Juno drew her blade.
Lyle held up the Codex, scanning.
> [Signature Match: 41% – Similar to Subject "Lyle G."]
Thread behavior erratic. Glyph style: Inverted. Time Sync: Partial.
Subject may be: Variant.
Lyle's breath froze.
"…Variant?"
---
They walked through the scorched plaza.
Everything was twisted—like a memory corrupted by someone else's dream.
Doors half-melted. Statues fused into the ground. A spell that turned the city into a reflection of grief.
And at the center—
A figure stood atop the cracked bell tower.
Cloaked.
Watching.
They didn't run.
They didn't hide.
They simply raised a hand.
And called out in a voice eerily familiar:
> "I've been waiting, Lyle."
"Tell me—what do you remember about the third ring?"