Ashar moved like the air bent for him. Mae clung to his shoulders, not out of fear. Not exactly but because the vibrations of the castle were inside her now. The walls no longer echoed around her, they responded to her. Her skin hummed like a current was running beneath it. Every pulse of energy in the stone, every flare of ancient script, they were speaking. Not in words, but recognition. It knows me.
Ashar's jaw was locked, the tension in his arms telling her more than words ever could. Not fear. Purpose. He wasn't running from the reaction. He was running toward something. But even Mae could tell, he didn't know what. They turned a sharp corner through the main corridor of the eastern wing, a hallway long abandoned, its walls dust-covered and cold, until suddenly. The floor shifted. Mae gasped as Ashar came to an abrupt stop. Beneath them, smooth stone cracked along invisible seams. Lines of light shot from the floor, arcing up the walls like living veins.
The wall in front of them began to unfold. Not open, unfold, bending in angles that didn't make sense. Behind it, a staircase. Carved of obsidian and starlight. Descending into a space that should not exist. Ashar stared. "That wasn't here before." Mae's heart pounded. "Then how did you find it?" His gaze shifted to her. "I didn't. You did." The weight of it landed between them like a silent revelation. Mae swallowed. "Should we go down there?"
Ashar looked at the symbols now glowing along the walls, ones he'd only seen in codex fragments and childhood stories. Lore passed in whispers. Mythical truths. He gave a slow nod. "We have to." Together, they stepped forward. The temperature shifted as they descended, neither warm nor cold, but still, like the world was holding its breath. The staircase spiraled only a short distance before opening into a room carved from something, not stone. It pulsed faintly. Like bone laced with metal and memory.
In the center, a raised platform with six rings of carved light. Floating above it, a sphere. Not glowing. Not mechanical. Just waiting. Mae's breath caught in her throat. "What is this?" Ashar stepped closer, eyes scanning the ancient markings. His voice dropped low. "The Sanctum. It's said to appear only when the divine thread awakens, and the one bound to it steps inside." Mae blinked. "So, it's here because of me?"
Ashar nodded once. "It was buried before the castle fractured. My ancestors built over it, believing the prophecy long dead."
He looked down at the rings beneath their feet. Then at her. "Mae, this room isn't just reacting to you. It's waiting for you to claim it." She trembled. "Claim what?"
He hesitated. Then, "your place, at the center of creation and undoing." The moment he said it. The sphere opened. Light burst from within, not blinding, but pure. The six rings lit up in cascading sequence. Mae stepped forward. And everything in the world above them shifted again.
Sanctum, Below the Castle Mae stepped into the first ring. The hum beneath her feet turned into a whisper, a language she didn't speak, but somehow understood. Her breath hitched. A second ring lit up, then a third. Ashar stood at the edge of the circle, watching her like she might disappear again, but this time, into truth. "It's recognizing you," he said, his voice rough. "Not just your presence, your origin." In the center, the open sphere began to rotate slowly. Light peeled from its edges like ribbons of time, memories, not hers, not Ashar's, but ancient visions encoded in the room itself.
A projection shimmered in the air before her: A battlefield, galaxies torn open, stars falling like dying embers. A luminous figure stood at the heart of it all. Not Veydrin. Not human. Not machine.
She was all of it. And Mae could feel it in her chest like a heartbeat she'd forgotten she had. Ashar took a cautious step closer. "That's her. The one from the lore. The Fractured Divine." Mae whispered, "It's me." The light pulsed again. The final ring lit up. And the room responded. Not just light. Not just memory. The walls breathed.
The Sanctum came alive. Scripture across the stone began to write itself in glowing lines. Not in any one language, but every language. Mae staggered slightly.
Her hand reached for the floating sphere, drawn to it. And just before her fingers touched. "MAE!" Riven's voice cracked through the chamber like a gunshot. The others had arrived looking for them. Riven, Kaine, Sethis, and Lucien stood just past the stairs, weapons half-drawn, eyes wide in disbelief. Kaine blinked. "What the hell is this?" Lucien stepped forward, slower. He looked between Ashar and Mae. "How did you even find this room?" Ashar answered, gaze still locked on Mae. "She did."
The silence that followed was absolute. Then the sphere pulsed again, and projected another vision into the air: Mae, but not Mae. She was cloaked in light and flame, her eyes galaxies, her body fractured and made whole again. Her voice echoed not in sound but in existence. Everyone watched as she raised a hand and reality bent. Tore. Healed. Broke again. Kaine stepped back, visibly shaken. "That's, not possible." Riven muttered, "That's what's inside her?" Then softer, to himself: "Little chaos bomb doesn't even begin to cover it."
Lucien didn't speak. He knelt. A rare show of reverence, but not for royalty, for something far older. Something divine. Sethis crossed his arms, unnerved but fascinated. "So what does that make her?" No one answered. Not yet. Mae turned slowly, eyes still glowing faintly from the ring's energy. "I don't want to be a god," she said. "I don't even know who I am." Ashar stepped toward her, hand hovering near hers but not touching. "Then we find out. Together."