The road ahead was nothing but dust and ruin.

  Aeris pulled her cloak tighter against the wind, squinting as the dry air bit at her skin. The path to the Sealed Archive was not an easy one—it was a journey through the Scorched Expanse, a wasteland of shattered stone and lifeless earth, left behind by a war that predated even the Hollow King.

  No one lived here.

  No one sane, anyway.

  Sorin walked beside her, his hood pulled up, shadowing his face. He had been quiet since they left—quieter than usual.

  Aeris tried not to think too hard about it.

  The Exiled One walked ahead, moving with the same unsettling grace as always. He wasn’t hindered by the rough terrain, nor did he ever seem to tire.

  Aeris wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or disturbing.

  “Tell me again,” the Exiled One said suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence. “What exactly do you expect to find in the Archive?”

  Aeris glanced at him. “Answers.”

  “That’s vague.”

  “Because I don’t know what we’ll find,” she admitted. “But if there’s even a chance that something in those records can tell us how to sever Sorin from the Hollow King’s remnants, then it’s worth it.”

  The Exiled One hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t argue.

  Sorin remained silent.

  Aeris hesitated before nudging him lightly. “You still with us?”

  Sorin blinked, glancing at her as if he’d been pulled from deep thought. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

  Aeris frowned. That was happening more and more.

  “What about?”

  Sorin exhaled, his golden eyes flickering with something unreadable.

  “About what happens if we don’t find an answer.”

  Aeris’ stomach twisted.

  She didn’t like that question.

  She didn’t want to think about it.

  “Then we keep looking,” she said firmly.

  Sorin didn’t argue.

  But he didn’t agree, either.

  The Exiled One suddenly stopped walking.

  Aeris nearly ran into him before she realized he was staring ahead.

  She followed his gaze.

  And froze.

  The landscape ahead had changed. The broken ground had shifted into ashen hills, dotted with jagged stone formations that curved upward like twisted fingers.

  And beyond them—something loomed.

  A structure, ancient and crumbling, half-buried in the earth.

  The remains of a temple.

  But that wasn’t what made Aeris’ skin crawl.

  It was the figures standing in the distance.

  Dark silhouettes, unmoving. Watching.

  Aeris reached for her weapon.

  “Looks like we’re not alone,” she muttered.

  Sorin slowly exhaled, his posture tensing.

  The Exiled One’s expression was unreadable. “No. We’re not.”

  The figures in the distance did not move.

  They stood in absolute stillness, their bodies outlined by the dying light of the setting sun. Aeris narrowed her eyes, gripping the hilt of her blade. The ruins beyond them pulsed with something ancient—a presence that didn’t belong to the Hollow King, but something just as dangerous.

  Sorin stepped forward, his voice low. “They’re waiting for something.”

  The Exiled One’s cloak barely shifted as he tilted his head, studying the figures. “For us, perhaps.”

  Aeris hated that answer.

  Her hand tensed around her sword. “We’re not walking into a trap.”

  Sorin exhaled, his golden eyes sharp as they scanned the terrain. “We might not have a choice.”

  And he was right.

  The path through the Scorched Expanse was treacherous enough—losing daylight would only make it worse. The temple ruins were the only shelter for miles, and if the Archive truly was buried beneath them, they had to push forward.

  But that meant dealing with whoever was waiting for them.

  Aeris glanced at the Exiled One. “Any idea who they are?”

  He was quiet for a long moment before answering.

  “Once, this land belonged to the Ashen Priests,” he said. “They were scholars, not warriors. They believed knowledge could outlast death itself.”

  Aeris frowned. “What happened to them?”

  The Exiled One’s expression did not change.

  “They were proven wrong.”

  Aeris really hated that answer.

  The first figure moved.

  Not a shift. Not a step.

  It was more like a glide, their form flickering against the dying sunlight like a mirage.

  Aeris’ breath hitched.

  The others followed.

  Slowly, steadily, they began advancing.

  There were six of them in total—tall, shrouded in ragged cloaks that seemed to be made of ashen mist. Their movements were wrong, their bodies weightless, like they were caught between two worlds.

  And then—one of them spoke.

  Or at least, Aeris thought they did. The words did not come from their mouths.

  They came from the air itself.

  "You are not welcome here."

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  The voice was layered—ancient, hollow, as if spoken by many at once.

  Sorin tensed, his fingers twitching. The golden cracks on his skin pulsed faintly, reacting to their presence.

  Aeris gritted her teeth.

  “We’re not looking for a fight,” she called out.

  The figures did not stop.

  "Then you should not have come."

  And then—they rushed forward.

  Aeris barely had time to react.

  One moment, they were a dozen paces away.

  The next—they were upon them.

  Aeris barely had time to draw her sword.

  The first of the figures lunged, moving with impossible speed. It wasn’t a charge—it was more like it was pulled forward, dragged by an unseen force.

  Aeris ducked. A clawed hand swiped just past her face, close enough that she felt the cold air shift in its wake.

  Not human.

  She twisted, slashing upward. Her blade should have cut through the figure’s torso—but it passed through like mist.

  She cursed, throwing herself backward.

  Sorin wasn’t so lucky.

  One of the figures reached for him—and this time, it made contact.

  Sorin staggered, choking.

  The thing’s hand was buried in his chest.

  Not piercing through—phasing into him, sinking into his body as if trying to merge.

  Sorin’s golden eyes flared.

  The markings along his arms and throat ignited, burning like molten veins. His body shuddered— and then the thing was thrown back.

  It screeched—an unholy, layered sound that made Aeris’ skin crawl.

  Sorin stumbled, panting. His hands trembled.

  His power had reacted on its own.

  Aeris swore.

  The Exiled One, who had been standing still this entire time, moved.

  And suddenly, he was between them and the creatures.

  He lifted his hand. A single finger.

  And then—a pulse.

  The air rippled.

  The creatures froze.

  For a moment—just a moment—they seemed to hesitate.

  The Exiled One tilted his head. His voice, as calm as ever, cut through the cold air.

  “You are bound, but not mindless. You recognize something, don’t you?”

  The creatures twitched. Their forms flickered.

  Aeris could feel it—a shift.

  Then, one of them—the tallest one—spoke.

  "You... bear his will."

  Aeris’ stomach dropped.

  Sorin clenched his jaw. “Whose?”

  The creatures snapped their heads toward him in unison.

  "The one who was King."

  Aeris’ blood went cold.

  Sorin’s hands shook.

  The Hollow King.

  Even here—his shadow still remained.

  And they had just walked right into it.

  A heavy silence hung over the ruined landscape.

  The creatures—if they could even be called that—stood motionless, their ashen bodies flickering in and out of focus, like shadows caught between two worlds. Their words still rang in Aeris' ears.

  "You bear his will."

  Her grip on her sword tightened. “What the hell does that mean?”

  The tallest of the creatures, the one who had spoken, shifted its head slightly—not quite looking at her, but acknowledging her presence.

  "He was the first to breach the Archive."

  Aeris' breath hitched.

  The Archive. The very place they were searching for.

  She glanced at Sorin. His face was unreadable, but his hands were clenched into tight fists. His golden eyes burned with an emotion Aeris couldn’t quite place.

  The Hollow King had been here.

  Had stood in this very place.

  And whatever he had done here, these things still remembered him.

  The Exiled One’s voice was as calm as ever. “You were bound to him, weren’t you?”

  The creatures remained still.

  Then—a whisper.

  "We were bound to knowledge. He made knowledge his own."

  Aeris’ stomach twisted.

  She suddenly had the terrible feeling that the Sealed Archive wasn’t just a place of forgotten records.

  Sorin exhaled sharply. "So he took something from the Archive."

  "He took everything."

  The words were not an accusation.

  Not anger.

  Not sorrow.

  Just fact.

  Aeris suddenly felt very, very small.

  The Hollow King had shaped the world in ways no one fully understood—but this was the first time she’d ever heard of him stealing something, something so important it had turned these beings into what they were now.

  And now, Sorin carried his remnants.

  Aeris looked at Sorin. He hadn’t spoken in several seconds. His hands were still shaking.

  She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Sorin.”

  He didn’t look at her.

  Instead, he took a slow, measured breath. Then—he raised his head.

  His golden eyes locked onto the tallest figure.

  And he said, quietly, “Then tell me what he took.”

  The creatures stirred.

  The air shifted.

  And then—the world changed.

  Aeris felt it before she saw it.

  A sudden, suffocating pull.

  Like the air had been ripped away, leaving behind only silence.

  The ruined temple—the landscape—it all faded.

  And in its place—was something else.

  Something ancient.

  Something buried.

  Something waiting.

  The truth.

  The world fell away.

  Aeris tried to move, but her body wouldn’t obey. She wasn’t standing anymore. The ruined temple, the creatures, the scorched ground—all of it was gone.

  Instead, she was floating.

  No. Not floating.

  Falling.

  A rush of air, a sensation of weightlessness—and then—

  She was somewhere else.

  Aeris landed hard.

  Stone met her knees. Not the cold, cracked earth of the ruins—but polished marble.

  She gasped, breath catching in her throat. The air here was thick, charged with something ancient.

  Slowly, she pushed herself up—and froze.

  This wasn’t the ruins.

  It was a city.

  Or at least, it had been.

  Towering spires stretched into the sky, their architecture impossibly intricate—gold-lined walls, massive bridges connecting great halls carved from something that gleamed like glass.

  And yet—it was all silent.

  No life.

  No people.

  Just the lingering weight of something long lost.

  Aeris’ heart pounded in her chest.

  Sorin stood beside her, his eyes wide as he took in the sight. “This…”

  The Exiled One was calm. Unshaken. As if he had expected this.

  “This is the Archive,” he murmured. “As it once was.”

  Aeris swallowed.

  This wasn’t just ruins.

  This was before.

  Before it had been lost.

  Before the Hollow King.

  Before everything.

  They weren’t just seeing the past.

  They were inside it.

  Aeris exhaled slowly, forcing herself to take in the details.

  Everything was too real.

  This wasn’t some hazy recollection of the past—it was alive. The city around them gleamed in the golden light of a sun that didn’t exist anymore, its spires cutting into the sky like untouched monuments. There was no dust, no ruin—only perfection.

  But it was silent. Dead.

  Sorin took a step forward, his boots clicking against the pristine marble. His golden eyes flickered as he turned, scanning the vast corridors ahead. “If this is the past, then where is everyone?”

  Aeris frowned. It was a good question. The Archive had been a place of knowledge, a sanctuary of scholars and scribes. But there were no voices. No movement.

  Just the weight of something left behind.

  The Exiled One remained unreadable. “Not all visions of the past are complete. Sometimes, only the echoes remain.”

  Aeris swallowed. Echoes.

  Then—a sound.

  A single, distant footstep.

  It echoed through the empty halls, impossibly loud.

  Aeris turned sharply.

  There—at the far end of the corridor.

  A figure.

  Not mist, not shadow—but solid.

  A tall silhouette, clad in dark robes, walking with purpose.

  Aeris’ pulse quickened. “Is that—”

  Sorin tensed.

  He didn’t need to say it.

  They all knew who it was.

  The Hollow King.

  The Hollow King walked with purpose.

  His steps were slow, measured—but unrelenting. His dark robes flowed behind him, lined with sigils that pulsed faintly, like dying embers. His presence alone seemed to bend the world around him, warping the air with something unseen.

  Sorin took a sharp breath. His body stiffened, his hands curling into fists.

  Aeris didn’t have to ask why. She could feel it, too.

  Something about the Hollow King’s very existence felt wrong.

  Not just powerful—unreal.

  Like he was no longer bound by the rules of this world.

  The Exiled One watched in silence. If he felt any unease, he didn’t show it.

  Aeris forced herself to move. One step forward. Then another.

  The Hollow King passed beneath a towering archway, his figure momentarily framed by the intricate symbols carved into its surface.

  And then—he entered the heart of the Archive.

  A massive chamber, stretching endlessly in every direction.

  Rows upon rows of towering shelves, filled with tomes bound in materials Aeris didn’t recognize. The air shimmered with magic so ancient it pressed against her skin.

  At the center—a great pedestal.

  And upon it, floating just above the surface—

  A single, bound book.

  Aeris’ breath caught in her throat.

  This was it.

  This was what he came for.

  Sorin took another step forward, his voice a whisper.

  “…What did he take?”

  The Hollow King reached out—his fingers just inches from the book.

  The air cracked.

  A pulse of energy rippled outward—a deep, thrumming force that sent a shiver through Aeris’ bones.

  She suddenly understood.

  The Archive wasn’t just a collection of knowledge.

  It was guarding something.

  Something that was never meant to be touched.

  And the Hollow King was about to take it.

  The Hollow King’s fingers brushed the surface of the book.

  And the world shattered.

  A sound like splintering glass tore through the Archive—deafening, immense, alive. The air cracked apart, glowing fractures rippling outward from the pedestal as the very fabric of reality screamed.

  Aeris staggered back. The weight of it crashed into her chest, crushing, suffocating. She couldn’t breathe—

  Sorin dropped to one knee, a pained hiss escaping through his teeth. His hands clutched his chest, golden veins pulsing beneath his skin.

  The Exiled One merely watched.

  A light flared to life in the center of the chamber.

  Not golden, not warm—but a searing, colorless void.

  Aeris’ vision blurred. She could feel something moving within it—something vast, endless, and hungry.

  And then—

  It spoke.

  "WHO DARES."

  The voice wasn’t sound. It wasn’t even language. It was a force, an impact against her very existence.

  The Hollow King did not flinch.

  He did not hesitate.

  He closed his hand around the book.

  And ripped it free.

  The Archive collapsed.

  A deafening roar of breaking stone, unraveling spells—the entire world trembled. The great towers began to fall, the golden light flickered and died.

  The past was being erased.

  Aeris felt it.

  This was the moment.

  This was the exact second the Archive was lost.

  The Hollow King turned. His face was obscured beneath the shadow of his hood—but his eyes burned.

  And then—he walked away.

  Unbothered. Unstoppable.

  He left the Archive behind.

  Left it to collapse into dust.

  The figures of the past began to fade. The light warped, twisting into something unrecognizable. The vision fractured—

  And just before the world was pulled back into darkness—

  Aeris heard the voice one last time.

  "HE WILL RETURN."

  And then—

  Silence.