Mason was dressed and halfway down the corridor before the guard finished explaining.

Unfortunately, the explanation wasn’t particularly useful.

Because nobody understood what had happened.

Which was becoming a recurring theme.

"The door wasn’t there during yesterday’s inspection," the guard said nervously as they hurried through the palace.

"You’re sure?"

"Yes, my goddess."

"Absolutely sure?"

The man nodded immediately.

"The archive keepers inspected the entire section."

Mason rubbed his face in frustration ...a mysterious door had appeared underground.

That was completely normal.

Not concerning at all.

Athlian remained silent inside his mind.

Far too silent.

That worried him.

The closer they moved toward the lower archive levels, the stronger her unease

became.

He felt every bit of it.

Fear.

Recognition.

Dread.

None of which helped.

The lower archives were already crowded when he arrived.

Guards blocked every entrance.

Archivists clustered together in anxious groups.

Several priests stood near the stairwell.

Nobody looked happy.

Draca spotted him first.

The commander immediately crossed the room.

"You shouldn’t have come alone."

Mason blinked. "I came with a guard."

"That’s not what I meant."

Something about the answer made his chest feel strangely warm.

Which was annoying.

Draca was becoming entirely too good at that.

Mason pointed toward the crowd. "Is the mysterious door still there?"

"Unfortunately."

"Good."

Draca frowned.

"Good?"

"I was worried it might disappear before I got here."

The commander stared.

Then sighed.

"I never know whether you’re joking."

"Neither do I."

That earned the faintest smile.

Only for a moment.

Then it vanished.

The tension returned immediately.

Draca lowered his voice. "Zereth is already inside."

Of course he was.

The immortal had probably arrived before the door itself.

Mason moved past the gathered scholars and entered the restricted section.

The atmosphere changed immediately.

The air felt colder and quieter.

He disliked it.

At the end of the chamber stood a stone wall. Or at least it had been a stone wall yesterday.

Now there was a door.

A very real door.

Mason stopped walking.

Several seconds passed.

Nobody spoke.

The door looked ancient.

Dark stone.

No handle.

No visible lock.

The seventh-lined symbol had been carved directly into its center as though it had always existed.

Yet everyone present knew it hadn’t.

Zereth stood nearby examining the surrounding stonework.

His expression was unreadable.

Which usually meant he was deeply concerned.

"Tell me someone has an explanation."

Nobody answered.

"Wonderful."

One archivist cleared his throat. "We checked the records."

Mason looked at him. "And?"

"There shouldn’t be a room here."

That wasn’t better.

Not even slightly.

The elderly scholar pointed toward several maps spread across a nearby table.

"The wall is an original construction."

"How original?"

The man’s face paled. "Founding era."

The room became quieter.

Mason looked back toward the door.

The kingdom itself was ancient.

Anything dating back to its founding was old enough to create problems nobody wanted.

Especially lately.

Draca stepped closer to the symbol.

"No visible mechanism."

"Did anyone touch it?"

"Several people."

"And?"

"Nothing happened."

That was somehow disappointing.

Mason wasn’t sure what he expected.

A magical explosion perhaps.

An ancient guardian.

At minimum a dramatic voice proclaiming doom.

Instead they got a door refusing to participate in the mystery.

Assura arrived fifteen minutes later.

Nobody had summoned him.

He simply appeared.

Like an especially irritating force of nature.

The moment he saw the door, his expression changed.

Only slightly.

But Mason noticed.

So did Zereth.

The immortal approached slowly.

For once, he wasn’t smiling.

"Interesting."

Mason immediately pointed. "There."

Assura looked confused. "What?"

"That face."

"What face?"

"The face you make whenever you know something."

Several archivists immediately pretended not to listen.

Draca looked suspiciously amused.

Assura sighed.

"A burden shared by few."

"A curse suffered by many."

The immortal ignored him and stepped closer to the symbol.

His eyes narrowed.

For several moments nobody interrupted.

Then Zereth spoke. "You’ve seen this before."

Not a question but a statement.

Assura remained silent.

Which was the answer.

The room immediately became tense.

Mason folded his arms. "How many secrets are you hiding?"

The immortal looked at him. "An irresponsible number."

At least he was honest.

Draca pinched the bridge of his nose.

Several scholars looked ready to cry.

Eventually Zereth broke the silence.

"What is the seventh line?"

Assura’s gaze lingered on the symbol.

Then he answered.

"I don’t know."

Half the room groaned.

Mason included. "You are the worst person in existence."

"I’ve been told that before."

"Repeatedly, I hope."

The immortal actually smiled.

Then the smile disappeared.

His next words immediately killed the humor.

"But I know one thing."

Everyone focused on him.

He looked directly at the door.

"It wasn’t made recently."

A chill ran through the chamber.

"What?"

The immortal folded his arms. "This stone is old."

"How old?"

"Older than the kingdom."

Nobody spoke.

Several people visibly paled.

Even Zereth looked unsettled.

Mason stared. "That’s impossible."

"Most interesting things are."

No.

That wasn’t how reality worked.

Something couldn’t simply be older than the kingdom while sitting underneath the kingdom.

That violated several important rules.

Mason disliked it immediately.

The discussion that followed accomplished absolutely nothing.

Scholars argued.

Priests argued.

Officials argued.

At one point two archivists nearly fought over a map.

Mason watched the entire disaster unfold with growing disbelief.

"This is why civilizations collapse."

Draca stood beside him. "They’re discussing evidence."

"They’re threatening each other with books."

"Those are different things."

"They really aren’t."

The commander failed to hide a smile.

Mason considered that a victory.

A small one.

But still a victory.

Hours passed.

The door remained closed.

No mechanism revealed itself.

No hidden passage opened.

No ancient prophecy announced itself.

Nothing happened.

Which somehow made everything worse.

Because everyone knew something was waiting.

Nobody knew what.

By afternoon, the tribunal envoy arrived.

Mason immediately regretted his day.

The woman entered the archive chamber surrounded by attendants...confident, composed and annoying.

Her eyes found the door immediately.

Far too quickly.

Mason noticed.

So did Zereth.

Interesting.

The envoy approached slowly.

"This wasn’t included in your report."

Zereth’s expression cooled.

"The report was submitted before the discovery."

"Convenient."

The room immediately became uncomfortable.

Political tension spread like wildfire.

Draca protectively shifted slightly...positioning himself closer to Mason.

The movement was small enough that most people missed it.

Mason didn’t.

Neither did the envoy.

Her gaze lingered briefly on the commander before returning to Zereth.

"The Tribunal requests unrestricted access."

"No."

The answer came instantly.

The envoy smiled.

A dangerous smile.

"The Tribunal’s authority extends beyond temple jurisdiction."

"Not here."

The smile vanished.

Good.

Mason preferred her irritation.

The conversation deteriorated rapidly afterward.

Threats disguised as diplomacy.

Diplomacy disguised as threats.

Politics.

In other words, everyone’s least attractive qualities are gathered in one room.

Eventually the envoy departed.

Nobody looked relieved.

If anything, the atmosphere worsened.

Draca watched the exit long after she

disappeared.

"You don’t trust her."

The commander glanced at Mason.

"No."

"That’s refreshingly direct."

His expression remained serious.

"She’s looking for something specific."

Mason frowned. "You think she already knows something?"

"I think she knows more than she’s admitting."

That matched Mason’s own suspicion. And that was rarely a comforting thing.

Evening approached.

Most officials finally left.

The door remained under guard.

Researchers continued examining it.

Progress remained nonexistent.

Mason found himself wandering into one of the quieter archive sections.

He needed a break.

His brain was exhausted.

Unfortunately, Zereth found him.

The immortal stepped from between two shelves.

Mason sighed immediately. "Do you live here now?"

"Possibly."

"That’s concerning."

Zereth ignored the joke.

A familiar habit among the people around him.

"I need to ask something."

Mason immediately became suspicious.

"Why does everyone keep saying that

lately?"

"Because nobody receives honest answers from you."

"Fair."

The immortal stepped closer.

Not enough to invade his space.

Just enough to make him uncomfortable.

A talent Zereth possessed naturally.

"The dream."

Mason froze.

His expression sharpened.

"What dream?"

"You’ve been dreaming."

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

"Athlian dreams."

Mason’s stomach tightened.

Zereth continued quietly. "Or perhaps both of you do."

Athlian stirred violently.

The reaction lasted only a second.

But Zereth noticed.

Mason knew he did.

The immortal’s eyes narrowed.

Mason forced a shrug.

"You’re becoming strange."

"That’s impressive coming from me."

For a moment neither spoke.

Then Zereth sighed. "You used to trust me."

The words caught Mason off guard.

Because there was no accusation in them.

Only sadness.

That somehow made it worse.

Before he could respond, Zereth stepped away.

The conversation ended just like that.

Leaving Mason alone with uncomfortable thoughts.

He hated those.

Night arrived before anyone realized it.

Most of the archive staff finally left.

Guards maintained watch over the mysterious door.

Nothing changed.

Nothing moved.

Nothing happened.

Which should have been reassuring.

It wasn’t.

Mason returned to his chambers exhausted.

The moment the door closed behind him, he collapsed into a chair.

Athlian remained quiet.

Finally he spoke.

"You’ve been acting strange all day."

Silence.

"Athlian."

More silence.

Then she finally answered.

’I know that door.’

His entire body stiffened.

The words hit harder than expected.

For several seconds he couldn’t speak.

Then...

"What?"

’I know it.’

Fear flooded through their connection.

Raw fear.

Mason slowly sat upright.

"How?"

No answer.

Athlian seemed to be struggling with something.

A memory.

An emotion.

A truth she didn’t want to face.

Finally she whispered: ’I don’t remember.’

His patience snapped immediately. "That’s impossible."

’I know.’

"You recognize it but don’t remember it?"

’I know.’

He stood and began pacing.

Frustration surged through him.

"That’s not how memory works."

Athlian laughed softly.

A bitter sound.

’For us, apparently it does.’

Unfortunately she had a point.

Nothing about their situation was normal.

The silence stretched.

Then Athlian spoke again.

Quieter this time.

’I remember being afraid of it.’

Mason stopped walking.

A chill ran down his spine.

That single emotion carried more weight than any explanation.

Because Athlian feared very little.

Whatever existed beyond that door...

It wasn’t something she wanted to find.

Outside, thunder suddenly rolled across the night sky.

Mason turned toward the window.

Dark clouds covered the capital.

The first drops of rain struck the glass.

Then a second sound echoed through the storm.

A distant bell.

One chime.

Then another.

Then another.

Mason frowned.

That wasn’t normal.

The emergency bells were ringing.

His stomach dropped.

A loud knock slammed against his chamber door. Before he could move, a guard’s voice shouted from outside.

"My goddess!"

Panic filled the man’s voice.

Real panic.

"The door!"

Mason crossed the room instantly and threw the door open.

The guard looked pale and terrified.

Rainwater dripped from his uniform. "What happened?"

The man swallowed hard.

Then answered.

"The symbol is gone."

Mason froze. "What?"

The guard’s expression worsened. "Not just the symbol."

A pause.

Then the words that made his blood run cold.

"The door is open."