He didn’t remember walking,but he was closer.

  The Urn stood before him —huge, wrapped in rusted chains and faded inscriptions.The bones around it looked like they were praying.Or cursing.

  Orrny hesitated.The air around it was... wrong.As if time refused to touch that pce.

  His chest throbbed.The mark burned.The Death-?nima whispered in silence.

  — “You didn’t come to see. You came to remember.”

  He touched the stone.

  Memories exploded.Screams. Chains. The ceremony.The scythe was raised.

  Lyssara was crying.The bde fell.

  And everything turned white.

  No... red.

  When the vision faded,he was on his knees, hands bloody —but there was no blood.

  Only dust and echoes.

  Orrny looked up.

  At the Urn’s mouth, an object floated:Lyssara’s ring.Not of ink.Not of smoke.Real.

  He held it.

  And then he heard her.

  Her ugh. Soft. Sad.

  — “You found me.”

  But she wasn’t there.

  Only the silence.

  And the fmes of the Urn,which lit without fire.