Mason couldn’t sleep throughout the night...including Athlian...by sunrise, rumors about the hidden door had already spread through half the capital.

Nobody knew where the information came from.

Nobody ever did.

One frightened guard told a servant.

The servant told a cook.

The cook told a priest.

The priest told everyone.

Now the entire city seemed convinced that Heaven itself had hidden something beneath the palace.

Mason sat at the end of a long conference table while several officials argued around him.

He regretted attending.

Deeply.

"That chamber should be sealed immediately."

"It already is."

"Then seal it again."

Draca rubbed his forehead.

Mason sympathized.

The commander looked one meeting away from walking into the ocean and never returning.

The tribunal envoy sat across from them with a pleasant smile that Mason disliked on principle.

The woman looked entirely too satisfied.

"As fascinating as this discussion is," she said smoothly, "the Tribunal would appreciate direct access to the location."

"No."

The answer came instantly.

Zereth didn’t even look up from the documents he was reading.

The envoy smiled.

"What..."

"No."

"The Tribunal possesses legal authority..."

"No."

Mason blinked.

That was the most personality Zereth had displayed all week.

The envoy’s smile twitched.

Very slightly.

Draca looked suspiciously amused.

The discussion continued for another twenty minutes.

Nothing productive happened.

Eventually Zereth stood.

The room became quiet.

Everyone immediately paid attention.

"When something hidden for centuries appears beneath the palace immediately after the Witness records are discovered, we proceed carefully."

His gaze settled on the envoy.

"Not politically."

The woman said nothing.

That alone was interesting.

Usually she always had something to say.

Zereth closed the folder. "The chamber remains restricted."

The meeting ended shortly afterward.

Several nobles complained.

Others whispered.

The envoy departed looking far too calm.

Mason watched her leave. "She’s planning something."

Draca appeared beside him. "Probably."

"You sound remarkably unconcerned."

"I’m too tired to be concerned."

"Fair."

The commander exhaled slowly. "Come with me."

Mason immediately narrowed his eyes.

"That sounds suspicious."

"We’re going to the archives."

"Still suspicious."

"Everything is suspicious now."

Unfortunately, Draca wasn’t wrong.

The lower archives felt different today.

More guards.

More restrictions.

More tension.

Everyone seemed aware that something important had happened.

Nobody knew what.

The newly discovered door remained sealed behind a heavy security barrier.

Several scholars worked nearby.

Most appeared frustrated.

One appeared personally betrayed by history.

Scholars were strange.

Mason studied the stone wall surrounding the door.

Nothing looked unusual.

The symbol remained visible.

Seven lines extending outward from the center.

The mark somehow looked older than the stone itself.

Which should have been impossible. "Any

progress?"

Zereth approached from the opposite side

of the corridor.

His expression answered the question before he spoke.

"No."

"Wonderful."

"We’ve identified the stone."

Draca frowned. "And?"

"It shouldn’t exist."

Mason groaned.

"Can we go one day without hearing that phrase?"

"No."

"Terrible."

Draca almost smiled.

"The wall surrounding the door is palace stone."

He pointed toward the entrance itself. "The door isn’t."

Mason folded his arms. "What is it?"

"We don’t know."

The answer was becoming predictable.

Several workers had apparently attempted to examine the surface earlier.

Their tools accomplished nothing.

Not scratches.

Not cracks.

Nothing.

The material remained untouched.

Mason approached carefully.

Something felt wrong.

That disturbed him far more.

Athlian stirred immediately.

Fear flashed through their shared consciousness.

Then vanished.

Mason stopped walking.

Draca noticed. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

The commander gave him a look.

Mason ignored it.

That was becoming a habit.

Athlian remained silent.

He hated when she did that.

Usually it meant she knew something.

Usually it meant she wasn’t sharing.

Several moments passed.

Then Assura arrived.

Nobody was surprised.

The immortal had somehow developed the ability to appear whenever the situation became inconvenient.

He examined the door.

The symbol.

The surrounding stone.

For once, he didn’t make a sarcastic comment.

That immediately got everyone’s attention.

"What is it?" Draca asked.

Assura remained quiet.

Then he sighed.

A genuinely tired sound.

"I haven’t seen one of these in a very long

time."

The corridor became silent.

Mason straightened. "What exactly is it?"

The immortal looked toward the door.

Then toward Mason.

Then away again.

"A warning."

Nobody liked that answer.

Especially because Assura sounded serious.

"What kind of warning?" Zereth asked.

The immortal smiled faintly.

"There are many kinds."

Mason resisted the urge to throw something.

The conversation died shortly afterward.

Because Assura clearly wasn’t providing additional information.

As usual.

Several hours later, Mason escaped.

The palace gardens felt significantly safer than ancient mystery doors.

At least flowers rarely threatened civilization.

He found an empty bench beneath a tree and sat down.

Athlian remained unusually quiet.

The silence between them had become increasingly common.

Mason hated it.

Eventually he spoke first.

"You know something."

No answer.

"You always get like this when you know something."

Still nothing.

"Athlian."

Several long seconds passed.

Then she finally responded.

’I remember pieces.’

That got his attention immediately.

"Pieces of what?"

More silence.

Then:

’Places.’

Mason frowned. "What places?"

’I don’t know.’

For once, the frustration in her voice sounded genuine.

’They’re incomplete.’

That wasn’t much.

But it was more than she’d admitted recently.

Mason leaned back against the bench.

His headache was returning.

A shadow fell across him.

He looked up.

And immediately regretted it because it was

Zereth.

Of course the immortal sat beside him without invitation.

Another palace tradition.

Apparently nobody respected personal space anymore.

For several moments neither spoke.

Then Zereth handed him a folded document.

Mason blinked. "What is this?"

"Read it."

Suspicious.

Extremely suspicious.

He unfolded the page carefully.

Most of the text consisted of copied fragments from recovered Witness records.

One sentence had been highlighted.

Mason’s expression changed immediately.

The Seventh keeps the path.

Nothing else.

Just that.

Four words.

His stomach tightened. "Where did you find this?"

"Hidden inside a damaged archive ledger."

He looked up. "Recently?"

"No."

That answer surprised him.

Zereth folded his hands. "The document is older than the kingdom."

Athlian reacted instantly.

Fear.

Sharp and sudden.

Mason nearly cursed.

Zereth noticed.

Of course he noticed.

The man could probably detect emotional instability from another continent.

"Again."

Mason frowned. "What?"

"Every time certain records appear, you react."

The observation wasn’t accusatory.

Which somehow made it worse.

Mason looked away.

The gardens suddenly became very interesting.

"I react because everything is insane."

"That’s not the reason."

Dangerous territory.

Fortunately a servant approached before the conversation could continue.

The timing felt suspiciously convenient.

Mason wasn’t complaining.

The servant bowed. "My goddess."

"What now?"

The young man hesitated.

"Commander Draca requests your presence."

Mason immediately stood. "Excellent."

Zereth sighed.

Mason ignored him.

The commander waited inside a secure records chamber.

Several maps covered the central table.

Documents surrounded him.

Mason stared. "Please tell me we’re not doing politics."

"Worse."

That was impressive.

Politics was already terrible.

Draca pointed toward one of the maps.

"The symbol locations."

Mason stepped closer.

Several marked points covered the capital.

The storage chamber.

The abandoned shrine.

The hidden archive door.

Various locations connected to the investigation.

Draca traced a finger between them. "The pattern isn’t random."

Mason froze.

Assura had said something similar.

Weeks ago.

The commander continued. "I spent most of the night comparing locations."

His expression darkened. "They form a route."

The room became very quiet.

Mason stared at the map.

A route.

Just like Assura suggested.

Draca pointed toward the final mark.

The hidden door.

"It ends here."

Athlian suddenly became restless.

The reaction was immediate.

Uneasy.

Nervous.

Afraid.

Mason felt every emotion. "What is it?" he asked internally.

No response.

Only silence.

Draca misunderstood the question. "The route existed long before the palace."

Mason looked up. "What?"

The commander pushed another document toward him.

Ancient survey records.

Old city foundations.

Ruins.

Historical layouts.

The route appeared repeatedly.

Across different eras.

Different civilizations.

Different maps.

Always ending in roughly the same location.

The hidden door.

Mason felt cold.

That wasn’t normal.

Nothing about this was normal.

The implications were becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

A knock interrupted them.

Moments later Assura entered.

The ancient immortal glanced toward the map.

Then sighed.

"Someone finally noticed."

Draca folded his arms.

"You knew."

"Yes."

"Why didn’t you say anything?"

Assura looked genuinely confused. "You never asked."

Mason nearly choked.

Draca looked ready to commit a crime.

The immortal ignored both reactions.

His attention settled on the map.

Then on the final destination.

For a brief moment something strange crossed his expression.

Regret.

It vanished quickly.

But Mason saw it.

"What happened there?" Mason asked quietly.

Assura’s gaze shifted toward him.

The immortal remained silent.

Then he smiled.

A sad smile...which is rare.

"The better question is what was hidden there."

Nobody spoke.

Because nobody liked that answer.

The afternoon passed in increasingly uncomfortable discussions.

Routes.

Records.

Patterns.

Contradictions.

The deeper they investigated, the less sense history seemed to make.

Entire sections appeared missing.

As though someone had deliberately removed pieces.

That realization bothered everyone.

Mason left before another research session could trap him.

The palace corridors felt strangely empty.

The atmosphere had changed.

Everyone sensed something approaching.

Nobody knew what.

As he walked toward his chambers,

Athlian finally spoke again. ’The route.’

Mason slowed. "What about it?"

A pause.

Then:

’I’ve seen it before.’

His pulse quickened. "When?"

More silence.

Too much silence.

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

Mason wanted to scream.

Instead he kept walking.

Because losing his mind publicly would create paperwork. And he respected palace staff too much for that.

Night had fallen completely by the time he reached his room.

For once, he hoped sleep wouldn’t bring another dream.

The universe ignored him.

The dream began differently this time.

No library.

No shelves.

No records.

He stood inside a long stone corridor.

Ancient cables burned along the walls.

The air felt cold.

Footsteps echoed ahead.

Someone was walking away from him.

A tall and unclear shadowed figure.

Impossible to identify.

Mason followed.

The distance never changed.

The figure eventually stopped before a familiar door.

The same door from previous dreams.

.

Slowly, the figure raised a hand.

Then pressed something against the surface.

The door trembled.

The symbol appeared.

Seven lines.

For the first time, the door began opening.

Only slightly.

Only enough to reveal darkness beyond.

Then the figure turned.

Not completely.

Just enough for Mason to hear a voice.

A voice filled with urgency.

A voice he somehow recognized.

"Don’t let them erase it."

Everything shattered.

Mason woke instantly.

Breathing hard.

His heart pounded against his ribs.

The room was dark and silent.

Then someone began pounding on the door.

Mason was already out of bed when a familiar voice shouted from outside.

"My goddess!"

Draca.

Mason yanked the door open.

The commander looked grim.

Behind him stood several guards.

Every one of them appeared shaken.

"What happened?"

Draca didn’t answer immediately.

For the first time in weeks, the commander looked genuinely disturbed.

Then he handed Mason a folded report.

Only one sentence had been written across the page.