The council chamber remained silent long after the messenger finished reading.

A completely blank Witness record.

Mason broke the silence first.

"...You’re telling me someone preserved an empty book for centuries?"

The messenger swallowed. "Yes, My Goddess."

"That’s either incredibly stupid or incredibly important."

Assura, leaning lazily against one of the marble pillars, smiled to himself.

"History has a habit of being both."

Mason shot him a tired look. "I was hoping you wouldn’t say something mysterious."

"You hoped incorrectly."

Draca stepped toward the messenger.

"Where was it found?"

"In the eastern archive beneath the old cathedral."

"The sealed collection?"

"Yes."

Zereth’s expression sharpened.

"Who opened it?"

"The archivists were performing a catalog review after yesterday’s discovery."

He hesitated before continuing. "The record was hidden inside a chest that hadn’t been opened in decades."

Mason frowned. "So nobody planted it recently."

"There’s no evidence of that."

The Tribunal envoy folded her hands.

"Then we should examine it immediately."

"No."

The refusal came from both Zereth and Draca at the same time.

Several nobles exchanged amused looks.

The envoy sighed. "I expected that answer."

"You’ll continue hearing it," Zereth replied calmly.

Mason couldn’t help himself. "You know, if the two of you ever leave your current jobs, you’d make excellent gatekeepers."

Draca looked at him. "Why?"

"You’ve mastered saying no."

A few council members chuckled.

Even the tension eased for a moment.

Only Assura looked disappointed.

"I thought that joke would be worse."

"It can be."

"Please don’t."

Mason grinned. "I wasn’t planning to."

Less than an hour later, a small escort rode toward the eastern cathedral.

The streets of the capital were noticeably busier than usual.

Rumors had spread faster than official announcements.

People gathered in small circles outside tea shops. Merchants whispered while pretending to arrange their goods.

Temple priests avoided questions they clearly couldn’t answer.

Everywhere Mason looked...People were watching the palace.

"They’re scared," he muttered.

Draca rode beside him. "They’re uncertain."

"That’s usually the same thing."

Neither argued.

The carriage slowed as they reached the old cathedral district.

Unlike the grand temples inside the capital, this section had been abandoned years ago after newer archives were constructed.

Ancient stone buildings stood quietly beneath climbing vines.

Dust coated nearly every window.

The place felt forgotten.

Several royal guards already surrounded the entrance.

Their captain saluted as Draca approached.

"Commander."

"Any changes?"

"No one has entered since the discovery."

"Good."

Mason stepped inside.

Cold air immediately greeted him.

The interior smelled of parchment and old stone.

Rows of shelves stretched into darkness.

Oil lamps flickered softly between narrow aisles. An elderly archivist hurried toward them, bowing repeatedly.

"My Goddess... Commander... Lord Zereth."

"We’re here about the record," Zereth said.

"This way." The archivist led them downstairs.

Each step seemed older than the last.

Eventually they reached a circular chamber protected by several fresh seals.

"The chest remains untouched."

Draca inspected the wax. "No signs of tampering."

"None."

The archivist carefully unlocked the iron clasps.

The heavy lid creaked open. Inside rested a single book wrapped in faded white cloth.

Mason expected something dramatic.

Golden light and ancient magic.

At least a creepy sound.

Instead...nothing happened.

"...That’s disappointing," he admitted.

Draca looked sideways at him. "Were you expecting fireworks?"

"I don’t know."

"A floating ghost?"

"Maybe."

Assura chuckled. "Centuries of divine history have clearly damaged your expectations."

"They absolutely have."

The old archivist carefully lifted the book onto a nearby table. Its leather cover had faded almost gray with age. Nothing distinguished it from hundreds of ordinary records.

Zereth slowly opened it.

The first page was blank.

The second...same.

Every page after that remained exactly the same.

Perfectly preserved and completely empty.

Mason leaned closer. "Not even faded ink."

"No."

"No impressions?"

"No."

"No erased text?"

Again...

"No."

Draca frowned.

"So why preserve it?"

Nobody answered because nobody knew.

Assura reached out and gently touched one corner of the final page.

For just a second...his smile disappeared.

Mason noticed immediately. "What?"

Assura withdrew his hand.

"Interesting."

"I hate that word."

"I know."

"What did you notice?"

The immortal looked at the blank pages again.

"This book wasn’t written to be read."

The room fell silent.

Mason folded his arms. "...Then what was it written for?"

Assura met his eyes. "I don’t think it was ever meant to contain words."

Nobody spoke, even Zereth looked surprised.The immortal rarely sounded uncertain.

Mason stepped closer.

"If not words..."

He lightly brushed his fingers across one page.

The instant his skin touched the parchment...Athlian gasped inside his mind.

’Mason... don’t.’

He jerked his hand back immediately.

"What?"

Her breathing sounded uneven.

’Don’t touch it again.’

"Why?"

She kept mute but her emotions were filled with fear.

Mason stared at the harmless-looking book. Nothing about it appeared dangerous.

Yet Athlian’s reaction felt more intense than anything she’d shown since the hidden door was discovered.

Draca noticed the change in Mason’s expression.

"What happened?"

"...Nothing."

Draca didn’t look convinced. "You’ve started saying that too often."

"I learned from the experts."

"The experts?"

"You and Zereth."

For once...

Even Zereth smiled.

The brief moment of humor disappeared when one of the younger guards suddenly called out from the entrance.

"Commander!"

Everyone turned.

The guard hurried downstairs carrying a folded piece of parchment.

"We found this hidden beneath the chest."

Draca accepted it carefully.

Unlike the blank book...

This parchment contained writing.

Only one sentence.

He read it once.

Then again.

His face hardened.

Mason immediately reached for it.

"What does it say?"

Draca hesitated before handing it over.

Mason unfolded the brittle page.

Written in dark ink were six simple words.

The pages were never the record.

Mason read the sentence twice.

Then a third time.

Slowly he looked toward the blank book resting on the table.

For the first time since entering the archive...he wasn’t wondering what was missing.

He was beginning to wonder if everyone had been searching for the wrong thing all along.

Nobody reached for the blank book again.

The sentence on the parchment had changed the atmosphere completely.

The pages were never the record.

Mason read it once more before passing it to Zereth.

"What does that even mean?"

Zereth studied the handwriting in silence.

"The ink is old."

"How old?" Draca asked.

"Old enough that it wasn’t written recently."

Mason sighed.

"So another message from dead people."

"They’re becoming rather talkative,"

Assura remarked.

"They always wait until they’re dead to explain things."

"And somehow they still explain nothing."

A few guards exchanged confused glances.

They had long accepted that conversations around the Goddess rarely made sense.

The elderly archivist adjusted his spectacles and stepped closer to the table.

"My Goddess... may I?"

Mason nodded.

The old man carefully examined the parchment under the light of an oil lamp.

After several moments, his brows knitted together.

"This isn’t a note."

Everyone looked at him.

"What do you mean?" Draca asked.

"It follows the same format used for archive labels."

He turned the parchment over.

"The handwriting isn’t personal."

"It’s official."

Mason frowned. "So someone intentionally cataloged this message."

The archivist nodded.

"Exactly."

"Which means whoever hid the book wanted this sentence to be found."

Zereth placed the parchment beside the blank volume.

"Not just found."

He pointed toward the chest.

"Found after opening the archive."

The distinction mattered.

Someone had expected another generation to continue this investigation.

Someone had left breadcrumbs instead of answers.

Mason hated breadcrumbs.

He preferred actual bread.

"Can I ask something?" he said.

Draca looked at him.

"When this is over..."

"If it’s ever over."

"...I’m demanding whoever built this kingdom refunds my sanity."

Assura chuckled. "I fear your request may be several thousand years too late."

"Figures."

The room relaxed for a brief moment before one of Zereth’s attendants approached.

"My lord."

"What is it?"

"We searched the entire chamber."

"And?"

"There are no additional documents."

"No hidden compartments?"

"None."

"No symbols?"

"None."

The attendant hesitated. "There is one strange thing."

Draca gestured for him to continue.

"The dust."

Mason blinked. "...The dust?"

"It doesn’t match."

That immediately caught Zereth’s

attention. "What do you mean?"

The attendant pointed toward the stone floor surrounding the chest.

"The shelves haven’t been disturbed in decades."

"The walls haven’t either."

"But the floor beneath the chest contains newer dust."

Silence settled over the chamber.

Draca crouched beside the stone platform.

His fingers brushed lightly across the floor.

He frowned.

"He’s right."

Mason stepped closer.

The difference was subtle. The layer of dust beneath the chest looked thinner than everywhere else.

As though...the chest had been moved.

"Recently?" Mason asked.

Draca shook his head. "Not recently."

"But not centuries ago either."

Zereth slowly stood. "So someone relocated the chest."

"Without opening it."

"And without disturbing the seals."

Assura folded his arms. "Now that..."

He smiled faintly. "...is interesting."

Mason pointed at him. "No."

Assura raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"You’re about to say something cryptic."

"I was."

"Don’t."

The immortal laughed. "I’ll spare you."

"You’ve grown."

"I wouldn’t go that far."

Even Draca smiled. The small moment disappeared as quickly as it came.

Mason’s gaze drifted back to the blank book.

Athlian hadn’t spoken again.

That worried him more than anything.

Whenever she became completely silent...

It usually meant she was remembering something she wished she couldn’t.

He closed his eyes briefly and called inwardly "Athlian."

No answer.

"Please."

Several long moments passed.

Finally...

Her voice returned.

His heartbeat quickened.

"The book?"

’No.’

"The room."

Mason’s eyes opened immediately. He looked around the underground archive.

Stone walls.

Ancient shelves.

A single narrow staircase.

Nothing stood out.

"You’ve been here before?"

A painful silence followed.

Then...

’I don’t know.’

Frustration surged through him.

It was always the same...fragments and

feelings. Never enough to build a complete memory.

"Mason."

Draca’s voice pulled him back.

He looked up.

"You disappeared for a moment."

"I was thinking."

"You looked pale."

"I’ve looked pale since arriving in this world."

"Fair point."

Before Draca could say anything else, hurried footsteps echoed down the staircase.

Another palace guard appeared.

Unlike the others...he looked terrified.

"Commander!"

"What happened?"

"The High Priest has arrived."

Zereth frowned. "Here?"

"Yes."

"He demanded immediate access."

Mason exchanged a glance with Draca.

The timing felt suspicious.

Moments later, the High Priest descended into the chamber with two attendants following closely behind. Unlike his usual composed appearance, today his robes were slightly disheveled.

He had clearly come in a hurry. His eyes immediately landed on the blank book.

For the briefest instant...shock crossed his face.

Then it disappeared.

Mason caught it. So did Zereth.

The High Priest recovered quickly.

"I see you’ve found it."

Nobody answered immediately.

Draca stepped forward. "You know this record?"

The old priest hesitated. "I know of it."

Mason narrowed his eyes. "That’s different."

"It is."

"Then explain."

The High Priest exhaled slowly. "When I first entered the Temple as a novice..."

His gaze remained fixed on the blank book. "...I was told that one archive should

never be opened."

"The eastern archive?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I wasn’t told."

Mason almost groaned. "Does anyone in this kingdom ever finish a story?"

The old priest actually smiled. "Not often."

"That’s becoming a national problem."

Several guards lowered their heads to hide their amusement.

The High Priest’s smile faded. "I assumed it was superstition."

"And now?" Zereth asked.

The old man looked toward the blank pages again. "...Now I’m no longer certain."

A cold breeze drifted through the underground chamber.

There were no open windows.

The lamps flickered together...then every

flame leaned toward the blank book.

Nobody moved or spoke.

Even Assura’s relaxed posture disappeared. He stared at the table with narrowed eyes.

Mason noticed. "What is it?"

The immortal answered without looking away. "...Something just changed."

The final lamp dimmed.

For one impossible heartbeat...a faint silver mark appeared across the center of the first blank page. Just a single thin line.

Then...It vanished.

The pages became blank again.

The room erupted into stunned silence.

Mason slowly looked at Zereth.

Zereth looked at Assura.

Assura looked at the book.

Nobody could explain what they had just witnessed. And that frightened them far more than if words had appeared.