Chapter 7: The Name in Stone
Silence hung heavy after the mirror's collapse.
The boy sat alone by the ruined altar, its stone fractured by time and memory. Elaria rested near the edge of the chamber, still shaken from what the mirror had shown them. She hadn't spoken much since they left the center.
But the sword had.
> "You heard it. In the echo. The name."
He stared at the strange mark etched into the floor—the blade-through-circle, the ruin-seal.
That symbol pulsed in his vision now, even with his eyes closed.
A memory stirred.
Not full. Not clear. Just a word.
A name.
It burned behind his ribs like a buried coal.
---
The altar had once held something—a statue, maybe. Now, it held only dust and whispers. But behind it, the stone wall was carved with ancient runes.
Elaria stirred as he stepped closer.
"What are you doing?"
He didn't answer.
His hand brushed over the stone.
Most of it was unreadable. Old. Faded.
But one section glowed faintly—like blood under skin.
He reached toward it.
The runes lit up.
A pattern formed.
Not language.
Not magic.
Memory.
---
He saw fire.
A tower of glass, shattering.
A hundred voices crying out.
And one voice—his—answering, not in defense, but in command.
> "Let it fall."
The vision snapped like a string pulled too tight.
The boy fell back, gasping.
Elaria rushed to him. "What did you see?"
He looked up at her, eyes wide with something raw. Not fear. Not pain.
Recognition.
"I spoke a name."
She knelt beside him. "What name?"
He swallowed. The word hurt coming out. Like something being torn from old flesh.
"Anterz."
Elaria frowned. "That's… yours?"
He nodded.
The sword pulsed in agreement.
> "At last, you stop running."
---
The moment he spoke it aloud, the room shifted.
Dust lifted in spirals.
The wall behind the altar opened, stone grinding aside to reveal a narrow passage that hadn't been there a heartbeat before.
Elaria stood, eyes wide. "You unlocked it."
He touched the blade at his back. "No. The name did."
They stepped through.
---
The corridor was tighter than the others—walls breathing with soft red light, veins pulsing like a heartbeat beneath glassy stone. Words appeared on the walls as they passed. Not readable. But understood.
Anterz ran his hand along them.
Elaria watched him closely now, like she was seeing someone reborn.
"You're different," she said.
He didn't argue.
He was.
He had a name now.
Not just the blade's shadow. Not just a vessel.
Anterz.
He didn't know what the name meant, or where it came from.
But it fit.
It felt like a key turned in a locked part of his chest.
---
At the end of the hall was a chamber, circular, deeper than anything above.
In its center stood a stone pedestal—on it, an obsidian tablet etched with glowing scars. Symbols rotated slowly above it, suspended in red light.
Anterz stepped forward.
Elaria hesitated. "Is this another trial?"
"No," he said. "A message."
He reached out—and the symbols fell, one by one, embedding into the tablet.
The light flared.
A voice rose—not from the sword. Not from the walls.
From within the stone.
> "To the one who returns through ruin: Welcome back, Anterz."
Elaria stepped closer, stunned.
"You were here before," she whispered. "You were part of this place."
The voice continued.
> "You severed yourself to escape what you became. You broke your name. Shattered your soul. Scattered your memory across the dying land."
Anterz didn't breathe.
The tablet showed visions in flame:
A god-weapon held aloft in a war between immortals.
A man standing on a cliff, arms raised, tearing stars from the sky.
A broken crown burning in his hands.
And a sword—Valteris—sinking into the heart of a chained god.
> "You killed your creator," the voice said. "And became something worse."
---
Elaria stepped back, eyes full of new fear.
"You were the one who ended the old world."
Anterz shook his head, slowly. "No… I think I chose to end myself."
The room pulsed around them.
> "But now the blade has found you again," the voice said. "And memory cannot remain buried forever."
The tablet cracked.
From inside, a second sword emerged.
Thin. Straight. Silver-white.
No runes. No corruption.
The opposite of Valteris.
Elaria stared. "Another god-weapon?"
Anterz reached for it—but Valteris shrieked in his mind.
> "Do not touch that thing. It unmakes me."
He paused, hand hovering.
Then grasped the white blade.
Pain lanced through his arm.
Not darkness—clarity.
Too bright.
Too sharp.
His mind burned with a different voice.
Not ruin.
Order.
> "You must choose," the sword said. "Truth, or power. Memory, or fate."
---
He dropped the blade.
It clanged against the floor, harmless.
Elaria picked it up, hands steady.
"Maybe it's not for you," she said softly. "Maybe it's for me."
He looked at her—saw the silver light dance in her eyes, like a second fire kindling beside ruin.
Then turned away.
"I can't carry both."
"Good," she said. "Then neither of us is alone."
---
As they left the Mirror Below, Anterz felt something new in his steps.
Not just strength.
Direction.
Above them, the sky had shifted again—stars forming patterns he almost recognized.
Far to the north, thunder rolled like laughter.
Valteris whispered once more.
> "Now that you know your name, the world will come to unmake you."
Anterz smiled for the first time.
"Let it come."
---