Mason was moving before Draca finished speaking.

The last traces of sleep disappeared instantly.

"What do you mean inside the palace?"

Draca stepped aside so they could walk.

"I mean exactly that."

That wasn’t reassuring.

The corridors were nearly empty at this hour. Only a handful of guards stood watch beneath dim lantern light.

Mason kept pace beside the commander.

Athlian had gone completely silent.

A bad sign.

Whenever she became this quiet, something was wrong.

"Where was it found?" Mason asked.

Draca’s expression remained grim.

"An abandoned records chamber."

"There’s an abandoned records chamber inside the palace?"

"There are several."

Mason stared.

"That feels like information somebody should have shared sooner."

"The palace is old."

"That’s not an explanation."

"It explains more than you think."

Unfortunately, that sounded believable.

The palace had existed for centuries. Entire wings had been renovated, expanded, sealed, reopened, and forgotten multiple times.

Mason was beginning to suspect nobody truly understood the building anymore.

They descended a narrow staircase.

Two guards waited at the bottom.

Both immediately straightened.

Draca acknowledged them with a nod.

"Nobody entered?"

"No, Commander."

"Good."

One guard unlocked a heavy wooden door.

The hinges groaned as it opened.

Dust greeted them immediately.

Mason sneezed.

The guard looked embarrassed.

The room beyond wasn’t large.

Several shelves lined the walls.

Broken furniture occupied one corner.

Old ledgers and damaged documents sat beneath layers of dust.

Nobody had used this place in years.

Possibly decades.

Lantern light flickered across the stone floor.

Draca led him toward the far wall.

"There."

Mason followed his gaze.

Then stopped.

The symbol had been carved directly into the stone.

Not painted.

Not drawn.

Carved.

The familiar circle sat at the center.

Intersecting lines spread outward.

Three smaller markings surrounded it.

Exactly like the one recovered from the Witness documents.

His stomach tightened.

Someone had hidden it here deliberately.

Not recently either.

The grooves looked old.

Very old.

Athlian reacted immediately.

Fear surged through the soul connection.

Sharp and unexpected.

Mason frowned internally.

"You know something."

’I don’t.’

"You’re terrified."

Silence.

Draca noticed his expression.

"What is it?"

"Nothing useful."

The commander accepted that surprisingly quickly.

Probably because nothing useful had become the official slogan of the investigation.

Mason stepped closer.

The carving felt strangely familiar.

Not familiar enough to recognize.

Just enough to bother him.

The sensation reminded him of his dreams.

Pieces of something incomplete.

Fragments refusing to fit together.

"When was this room last used?"

Draca glanced toward one of the guards.

The soldier answered immediately.

"The records department believes nearly eighty years."

Eighty years.

Mason looked back at the symbol.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Because the attempted theft had happened now.

Not eighty years ago.

Someone was reacting to current events.

Which meant somebody knew this carving existed.

Draca seemed to reach the same conclusion.

"The timing bothers me."

"It should."

The commander folded his arms.

"If this was hidden here decades ago, why does it matter now?"

Mason studied the wall.

"Because somebody thinks we’re getting close."

The room became quiet.

Nobody liked that possibility.

Not even a little.

A few minutes later additional officials arrived.

Including Zereth.

The immortal entered, took one look at the carving, and immediately looked unhappy.

An impressive achievement considering his normal expression.

"I was hoping the report was mistaken."

"Disappointed?" Mason asked.

"Very."

The immortal approached the wall.

His fingers hovered above the carving without touching it.

For several moments he simply observed.

Thinking.

Always thinking.

Eventually he sighed.

"I’ve seen this pattern before."

That got everyone’s attention.

Mason straightened immediately.

"Where?"

Zereth looked annoyed.

"That’s the problem."

"What problem?"

"I don’t remember."

Nobody spoke.

The answer somehow felt worse.

The immortal rubbed his forehead.

"The image is familiar."

Athlian became alert again.

Mason noticed immediately.

So did Zereth.

The immortal’s eyes shifted toward him.

Only briefly.

But the look lingered long enough to make him uncomfortable.

Then Zereth returned his attention to the carving.

"The memory feels incomplete."

Mason nearly laughed.

Absolutely perfect.

Now even the immortal suffer from mysterious half-memories.

The investigation truly was infecting everyone.

The next hour produced more questions than answers.

Again.

A palace historian eventually confirmed the chamber had belonged to an administrative department that no longer existed.

The records from that era were incomplete.

Several inventories had vanished.

Nobody knew why.

Mason was beginning to suspect missing records had become a national hobby.

By sunrise, the room had filled with scholars, officials, and increasingly frustrated people.

He escaped at the first opportunity.

His reward was exactly three minutes of peace.

Then one of his former lovers found him.

Naturally.

She appeared in the garden carrying a basket.

Mason immediately became suspicious.

"You have that look."

"What look?"

"The one that means trouble."

She laughed.

"You wound me."

"I survive somehow."

The woman sat beside him.

Then opened the basket.

Food.

Actual food.

Mason blinked.

"You brought breakfast?"

"You sound disappointed."

"I’m confused."

"That’s fair."

She handed him a pastry.

Mason accepted it cautiously.

Athlian laughed softly.

The sound surprised him.

It had been a while since he heard genuine amusement from her.

His former lover noticed the brief smile.

Immediately.

Unfortunately.

"Oh?"

"No."

"Oh, definitely."

"There is no definitely."

Her grin widened.

Mason regretted everything.

Including breakfast.

Especially breakfast.

Fortunately another interruption arrived.

Unfortunately it was Draca.

The commander stopped several steps away.

His gaze shifted between them.

Then toward the basket.

Then back again.

The silence became strange.

Mason pointed immediately.

"Say whatever you’re thinking."

"I wasn’t thinking about anything."

"That’s a lie."

Draca actually looked offended.

A rare sight.

His former lover appeared delighted.

A terrible combination.

The commander eventually sighed.

"I came because the council meeting starts soon."

Mason groaned.

The universe truly hated him.

The meeting proved exactly as painful as expected.

Tribunal representatives demanded greater access.

Temple officials resisted.

Nobles complained.

Coalition observers asked uncomfortable questions.

Nobody trusted anybody else.

Several times Mason considered pretending to faint.

Unfortunately Draca would probably notice.

By midday the discussion had devolved into a political battlefield.

The tribunal envoy remained calm throughout the chaos.

That alone made her dangerous.

Mason had noticed something peculiar about her.

Unlike everyone else, she rarely seemed surprised.

Every discovery.

Every contradiction.

Every revelation.

Nothing shocked her.

As if she expected problems.

Or perhaps knew more than she admitted.

The thought stayed with him.

Hours later, the meeting finally ended.

Not because anyone reached an agreement.

Because everyone had become exhausted.

A different outcome entirely.

Mason escaped immediately.

This time nobody followed him.

At least for a while.

The palace library offered temporary refuge.

He settled into a quiet corner.

Athlian remained thoughtful.

Which was preferable to frightened.

Eventually she spoke.

’That symbol wasn’t meant to be public.’

Mason nearly dropped the book he wasn’t reading.

"What?"

Silence followed.

Then:

’I don’t know why I know that.’

His pulse quickened.

That happened more frequently lately.

Knowledge without context.

Memories without ownership.

Fragments appearing from nowhere.

He hated it.

Athlian hated it too.

The uncertainty frightened her.

And when she became frightened, Mason paid attention.

"Do you remember anything else?"

A pause.

Then:

’No.’

The disappointment felt mutual.

Several hours passed.

By evening the palace had settled into uneasy calm.

Not peace.

The difference mattered.

Peace implied safety.

This was simply exhaustion.

People could only argue for so long before needing sleep.

Mason eventually returned to his chambers.

The city beyond the windows glowed beneath the fading light.

For the first time all day, he found himself alone. Or as alone as someone sharing a body could be.

Athlian seemed distant.

Lost in thought.

He didn’t push.

The argument between them had cooled.

Not disappeared.

Just cooled.

Some conversations remained unfinished.

Eventually he moved toward the balcony.

Fresh air sounded appealing.

The moment he stepped outside, he froze.

Someone was already there.

A figure stood near the railing.

Tall and motionless.

Watching the city below.

Mason’s heart nearly stopped.

Then the figure turned.

Assura.

Of course.

Because normal people used doors.

Assura apparently preferred appearing wherever he pleased.

"You know," Mason said, "one day somebody is going to stab you out of reflex."

The immortal smiled. "A valid concern."

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking."

"At what?"

"The future."

Mason immediately regretted asking.

Assura leaned against the railing.

For once, the immortal didn’t look amused.

He looked serious.

That alone was alarming.

"The palace is changing."

"That’s not exactly groundbreaking information."

"No."

Assura’s gaze shifted toward him.

"But the people inside it are."

Athlian became very quiet.

The immortal noticed.

Of course he noticed.

Sometimes Mason suspected Assura noticed everything.

"The Witnesses left many things behind."

Mason stiffened.

Assura rarely mentioned them directly.

"Such as?"

A faint smile appeared.

"There is the question."

Mason resisted the urge to throw something.

The immortal’s talent for being cryptic remained unmatched.

For several moments neither spoke.

Then Assura looked toward the city again.

"When secrets survive long enough, people start believing they’re gone."

The smile disappeared.

"That is usually when they become dangerous."

A chill ran through Mason.

Before he could respond, Assura stepped backward.

The air distorted briefly.

Then he was gone.

Just like that.

No explanation.

No clarification.

Nothing useful.

Mason stared at the empty space.

"I hate him."

’You don’t.’

"Professionally, then."

Athlian laughed quietly.

The sound eased some of the tension.

Only some.

Night eventually settled across the capital.

The palace grew quiet.

Lanterns dimmed.

Guards changed shifts.

Most residents slept.

Mason lay awake.

Thinking about symbols.

Witnesses.

Dreams.

Assura.

Draca.

Too many questions.

Not enough answers.

Eventually exhaustion won.

His eyes closed.

Sleep arrived.

And somewhere deep beneath the palace... Far below forgotten chambers and sealed passages...

A second symbol began to glow.

Then a third.

Ancient markings hidden in different locations.

Separated for centuries.

Silent for generations.

Now awakening one by one.

And in a locked room nobody knew existed...a hooded figure opened an old journal.

Turned to a marked page.

And smiled because the symbols were activating exactly as expected.