The sanctum had gone completely silent after Zereth translated the inscription.

The debt remains unpaid.

Four words.

That was all it took.

Four words to make an entire room full of powerful people look deeply uncomfortable.

Mason personally hated mysterious ancient warnings, mostly because they were never followed by anything pleasant.

The priest holding the damaged tablet looked ready to throw it into a fire.

Unfortunately nobody seemed willing to test whether ancient cursed messages could burn.

Probably a wise decision.

The knock did not come again.

That somehow made it worse.

Everyone waited.

Nothing happened.

No black light.

No earthquakes.

No cosmic horrors climbing out of hidden prisons.

Just silence.

After everything they had survived tonight, the silence felt unnatural.

Eventually Seraphine exhaled sharply.

"We’re done here."

The statement carried less confidence than she probably intended.

Nobody argued.

The disaster had ended. Or at least the immediate disaster.

The consequences were just getting started.

Orders spread quickly throughout the sanctum.

Guards secured the lower levels.

Priests collected damaged scriptures.

Engineers were summoned to inspect structural damage.

Several wounded soldiers were escorted toward the stairways.

The atmosphere had changed completely.

The panic was gone.

Now came the aftermath. And Mason suspected aftermaths were often worse.

Athlian remained unusually quiet.

That worried him.

Normally she always had something to say; An insult, correction,complaint.

Now there was only silence.

"Athlian."

No response.

He was beginning to hate when she did that.

Draca stepped closer. "You look

exhausted."

Mason stared at him. "You say that like it’s unusual."

A small smile touched the commander’s face.

"Fair."

The man looked tired too.

His armor was damaged.

His hair was a mess.

Dust covered half his shoulder. Yet somehow he still looked annoyingly composed.

Life was unfair.

Several guards approached Draca with reports.

The commander listened carefully.

Questions were asked.

Orders were given.

Within minutes people were moving purposely and efficiently again.

Mason watched quietly.

Draca was good at this.

The realization brought an unexpected sense of relief.

Dangerous relief.

Athlian finally stirred. ’You keep staring at him.’

"I am observing leadership."

’You’re lying.’

"I am absolutely observing leadership."

’You smiled.’

He chose not to continue the conversation.

Self-preservation remained important.

Nearby, Zereth was still studying the damaged inscription.

The silver-eyed immortal had barely moved.

Most people seemed focused on surviving the political disaster waiting above.

Zereth appeared interested in the mysterious ancient warning instead.

Probably smart and terrifying.

Assura eventually approached him. "What do you think it means?"

Zereth didn’t look away from the tablet. "I think somebody wanted it hidden."

"That is obvious."

"Then we agree."

Assura looked mildly annoyed.

Mason felt irrationally satisfied.

Even ancient immortals apparently struggled with conversations.

The Tribunal messenger remained near the fractured gate...watching.

Mason still disliked the figure...instinctively.

The feeling appeared mutual.

Several minutes later Seraphine approached them.

"The upper palace is secure."

"Define secure," Mason said immediately.

She looked at him. "The city isn’t on fire."

"Better than expected."

"The eastern district is still unstable."

"There it is."

Seraphine sighed. "The temples are already demanding explanations."

Of course they were.

Political consequences had arrived, right on schedule.

"The Coalition?"

"Sending representatives."

Mason didn’t know much about the Coalition, what he did know suggested headaches.

Large headaches.

The expensive kind.

Athlian finally spoke again. ’They’re moving faster than expected.’

"You sound surprised."

’I hoped we would have more time.’

That answer drew his attention immediately.

More time for what? Before he could ask, another group of soldiers entered the sanctum.

This time they weren’t carrying wounded comrade.

They carried boxes filled with records, documents and ancient scrolls.

The sight confused him. "What are those?"

Seraphine followed his gaze. "Everything recovered from the damaged archive levels."

Zereth attention shifted instantly.

The immortal moved toward the soldiers.

One of the older priests bowed nervously.

"Many records were damaged during the fractures."

"How many survived?"

"More than expected."

The priest hesitated. "Some sections became accessible."

The room grew quieter.

Assura looked interested.

Never a comforting development.

"Accessible?"

The priest nodded.

"Several sealed archive chambers collapsed."

Now that was interesting.

Mason immediately recognized the look exchanged between Assura and Zereth.

The look of people discovering forbidden information might suddenly be available.

That was never good.

In stories, curiosity always got people

cursed or murdered.

Sometimes both.

The Tribunal messenger finally moved.

"The archives will be reviewed."

Seraphine folded her arms. "By whom?"

"The Tribunal."

The response landed exactly as badly as expected.

Several people frowned immediately.

Political tension returned.

Nobody seemed capable of going ten minutes without creating more.

Assura’s eyes narrowed. "The archives belong to the kingdom."

"They contain restricted knowledge."

"They contain history."

The messenger remained silent because that wasn’t a denial.

Mason noticed Zereth noticing it too.

The silver-eyedlooked thoughtful.

Dangerously thoughtful.

Athlian felt uneasy. ’They’re afraid.’

"Of what?"

’The records.’

That answer wasn’t reassuring at all.

Hours later they finally left the sanctum.

The journey back toward the palace felt surreal.

Broken corridors.

Damaged walls.

Cracked pillars.

Evidence of destruction everywhere.

Soldiers moved constantly through the halls.

Messengers ran between departments.

Servants hurried carrying supplies.

The palace felt alive.

Not in a good way but in the way an injured animal remained alive barely.

Mason hadn’t realized how exhausted he

was until they reached the upper levels.

The moment fresh air hit him, he nearly collapsed.

Draca caught him immediately again.

At this point it was becoming a habit.

"You need sleep."

"I need several years of sleep."

The commander looked unconvinced.

Mason was only partially joking.

They emerged onto one of the palace balconies.

The capital spread before them.

The sight stole his breath.

Not because it was beautiful.

Because it was damaged.

Entire sections of the city showed signs of the Heaven Fracture.

Collapsed buildings.

Broken roads.

Smoke rising from distant districts.

Emergency lanterns illuminated the

streets.

Thousands of people remained awake despite the late hour.

The city looked wounded.

Athlian felt it...The guilt,sadness and responsibility.

Mason didn’t know which emotions belonged to her anymore.

Sometimes it was becoming difficult to tell.

Draca stood beside him quietly.

Neither spoke.

The silence felt strangely comfortable.

Until footsteps interrupted it.

Peace apparently remained illegal.

Seraphine appeared carrying several reports.

She looked exhausted.

More exhausted than usual, which was impressive.

"The palace council convenes at dawn."

Mason groaned. "Can disasters stop scheduling meetings?"

"No."

"Rude."

For the first time all night, she laughed.

A small laugh but genuine.

Apparently everyone was reaching their emotional limit.

She handed several documents to Draca.

"The city requires additional patrols."

He nodded. "I’ll handle it."

"I know."

Something passed between them.

Mutual trust and professional respect.

Mason found himself oddly envious.

Which was ridiculous.

Athlian noticed. ’You’re doing it.’

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

’You do.’

Refusing conversations remained a valid strategy.

He intended to continue using it.

Eventually Seraphine left.

Draca stayed.

The commander glanced toward the city.

"The people are frightened."

"Reasonable reaction."

"They need stability."

Mason looked at him. "And you’re going to give it to them."

Draca shrugged. "As much as I can."

Athlian immediately went silent...suspiciously silent.

Mason ignored it. Unfortunately his life contained entirely too much emotional complexity already.

The next morning arrived far too quickly.

He barely remembered reaching his chambers.

Sleep had happened...technically.

Whether it qualified as rest remained debatable.

The dreams returned; Fragments, memories,voices.broken images, chains, 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

silver light, distant door.

And somebody crying.

When he woke, Athlian was already awake.

That alone felt concerning.

"You were quiet."

’You were dreaming.’

"That’s not an answer."

Silence followed.

’I remember pieces.’

Mason sat upright immediately. "What pieces?"

She didn’t respond, the goddess apparently enjoyed causing stress.

Eventually she spoke. ’Not enough.’

A knock sounded at the door.

Before he could answer, it opened.

Draca entered making him blink because the commander carried food.

Actual food.

He stared.

Draca stared back. "What?"

"You brought breakfast."

"Yes."

"Voluntarily."

Another pause.

"You need to eat."

Mason pointed dramatically. "This is why you’re becoming everyone’s favorite."

Draca looked mildly confused.

Athlian looked annoyed.

Balance had been restored.

The meal was interrupted less than five minutes later.

A palace servant arrived carrying sealed documents.

"The council requests the goddess presence."

Of course they did.

Political suffering never rested.

The council chamber was already crowded when they arrived.

Everybody looked exhausted.

Nobody looked happy.

Excellent start.

The discussions began immediately.

Damage reports.

Casualty estimates.

Economic concerns.

Infrastructure repairs.

Temple unrest.

The list continued endlessly.

Mason learned two important things.

First, governing a kingdom sounded awful.

Second, politicians somehow managed to make cosmic disasters boring.

A remarkable achievement.

Hours passed.

Arguments erupted repeatedly.

Several temple delegates demanded investigations.

Others blamed the Tribunal.

Some blamed the palace.

A few blamed each other.

One elderly noble blamed architecture.

Mason respected the creativity.

Throughout the meeting, Zereth remained unusually quiet.

That bothered Mason because quiet Zereth usually meant dangerous Zereth.

Eventually the discussion shifted to the archives.

Immediately the room became tense.

Apparently everyone cared about the damaged archives.

"The recovered records must remain secured."

A temple delegate spoke first.

A noble disagreed immediately.

Another joined the argument.

Then another.

Within moments chaos returned.

Mason regretted attending.

The Tribunal messenger appeared halfway through the discussion.

Nobody seemed happy about it.

The figure delivered a simple statement.

"The Tribunal requests access."

Silence followed.

Hostile silence.

Political hostility.

The expensive kind.

Mason watched carefully because something felt wrong.

Not dramatic wrong.

People were hiding things.

The archives mattered far more than they admitted.

Athlian felt it too. ’They’re afraid of what survived.’

The statement lingered because she sounded certain.

That frightened him.

The meeting finally ended near sunset.

Everybody left unhappy.

Apparently a successful political gathering.

As they exited the chamber, Zereth approached unexpectedly.

"My goddess"

"What happened now?"

Zereth glanced around briefly.

Making certain nobody listened.

Then he lowered his voice. "I found something."

Athlian immediately became tense.

"What kind of something?" Mason asked.

"The archive records."

Not reassuring.

Zereth’s expression hardened slightly.

"Several documents were removed."

Mason blinked. "Recently?"

"Very recently."

Zereth continued."They disappeared before the fractures."

Now that was worse because it suggested planning.

Deliberate planning. Someone had hidden information before disaster struck.

The question was why.

Mason crossed his arms. "What kind of documents?"

A long pause followed.

Zereth studied him carefully.

"Records concerning forgotten divine contracts."

Athlian froze.

Mason felt it instantly...he became absolutely certain of one thing.

Whatever Athlian was hiding...It was connected to those missing records.

Zereth watched him carefully before he spoke one final sentence.

And Mason’s stomach dropped.

"The strange part isn’t that the records vanished."

A pause.

"The strange part is who signed them."

Athlian’s fear surged through the soul bridge.

And for the first time...she begged him not to ask the question.