The vault lay three levels beneath the temple, accessed through a spiral staircase so old the stone steps had been worn smooth by centuries of feet.
As we descended, Archon Dulane touched his fingers to his forehead, then his heart, then his lips—the salesh-mara, the Nozak gesture of entering sacred space. Around me, the other priests did the same, murmuring the traditional words.
"Kesh-amar du solai. Kesh-amar du noctai. Kesh-amar du balai."
I am of the sun. I am of the night. I am of the balance.
The words were older than Arazon itself, Dulane had explained once. From the time before Kii Hore, before the covenant, when the people still prayed to Ninaarsita—the lion-headed god who was said to have birthed the sun and shadow both from his divided heart.
"You should learn the prayers," Zhera said beside me, her voice low. "If you're going to lead, you need to at least pretend you understand the faith."
"I don't believe in gods."
"Neither do I. But they believe in you." She nodded toward the priests watching us. "That's what matters."
The stairs opened into a chamber that took my breath away.
The walls were covered in carvings—not the decorative kind, but functional. Thousands of symbols worked into the stone in spiraling patterns, each one glowing faintly with its own light. The architecture was distinctly Nozak: the sacred geometry of circles within triangles within squares, representing the threefold nature of existence—sun, shadow, balance. Every angle was intentional, every curve measured against ancient astronomical calculations.
At the center of the room stood a massive pillar carved to look like a roaring lion with a human face—Ninaarsita in his aspect as the First Divider. His mouth was open, and from it poured a constant stream of water into a circular basin below. The water glowed with the same faint light as the wall symbols.
"The Tears of the First," Brother Tashen whispered reverently. "They say Ninaarsita wept when he realized he had to split his heart to create both light and darkness. That without both, creation couldn't exist. His tears became the first magic—the source of all sun and shadow arts."
"It's just consecrated water," Zhera said, but even she sounded less certain than usual.
"Is it?" Dulane moved to the basin and cupped his hands, lifting some of the glowing liquid. "We've tested it for centuries. It has properties that shouldn't exist. It heals shadow corruption if drunk, but burns those who practice shadow magic if touched to skin. It preserves the Lost Books—some of which are thousands of years old—without decay. And it reacts to the amulet."
He nodded at me.
I approached slowly, and the water's glow intensified. The amulet around my neck grew warm, pulling toward the basin like it wanted to return home.
"Touch it," Dulane said.
"What will happen?"
"We don't know. No one's worn the amulet in seventeen years."
"Reassuring." But I reached out anyway, dipped my fingers into the glowing water.
Cold. So cold it burned.
And then—
Vision.
I was standing in the same chamber, but it was different. Newer. The carvings brighter, the water clearer. And before me stood a man with a lion's head and human body, massive and terrible and beautiful.
Ninaarsita.
He looked at me with eyes that held entire galaxies.
"Child of the divided sun," his voice resonated in my bones, not my ears. "You come seeking knowledge of what you carry."
"I—yes."
"The burden is older than your understanding. Older than this kingdom. Older than the covenant your ancestor made." He gestured at the amulet. "That is not a tool. It is a prison and a promise both."
"What does that mean?"
"When I divided my heart to create existence, I knew the split could not last forever. Sun and shadow were never meant to be separated completely. They are twins, lovers, enemies—two faces of the same truth. And one day, they would seek to reunite."
He leaned closer, and I could smell copper and sunlight and darkness all mixed together.
"The amulet contains a piece of my original heart. The sun's aspect. It chooses those who can carry its weight without being consumed. Your mother was chosen. She carried it for a time. But she refused its full power because she knew what it would cost."
"What cost?"
"To wield the sun's aspect fully is to burn away all shadow—including the shadow within yourself. Memories. Emotions. The darkness that makes you human. You become pure light. Pure purpose. And there is no return from that."
"That's what the memory loss is? The amulet consuming my shadow?"
"Yes. And no." Ninaarsita's expression was unreadable. "The memories you lose are not random. They are the parts of yourself most tied to shadow—pain, fear, shame, loss. The amulet takes them because it believes it is helping you. Purifying you. Making you worthy."
"But I need those memories. They make me who I am."
"Do they? Or do they chain you to what you were?" He straightened. "The eclipse approaches, child. When sun and shadow meet in the sky, the old balance will shatter. And you will have to choose: embrace the sun fully and burn away all darkness, or find another path. One that has never been walked before."
"What path?"
"That is not for me to answer. I am the past. You are the becoming."
The vision shattered—
I gasped, jerking my hand out of the water. My fingers were numb with cold, and I was shaking.
"What did you see?" Zhera grabbed my arm, steadying me.
"Ninaarsita. He spoke to me."
The priests exchanged glances. Some looked awed. Others skeptical.
"The Tears sometimes show visions," Dulane said carefully. "But usually only fragments. Symbols. If you saw the First Divider himself and he spoke... that's unprecedented."
"What did he say?" Sister Vorin demanded.
I told them everything.
When I finished, silence hung heavy in the vault.