The path to the Vault was far from straightforward, as expected. Ilyan had learned by now that nothing in the Fractured Archive was what it seemed. Every corridor twisted on itself, every doorway opened into a different set of possibilities. But, despite the strange architecture, the Vault seemed like a final destination—a promise of something that could offer clarity.
As they approached the imposing, marble walls of the Vault, Monsieur Loup took a step back, suddenly serious. For the first time since meeting him, his face wasn't adorned with a smirk. He was looking at the entrance with something... like awe.
"Ah," he muttered, tapping his fingers on his chin. "This place. So many truths have been locked away here. So many lies."
Ilyan felt a chill crawl up his spine. "What's the difference?"
"Between a truth and a lie?" Monsieur Loup's eyes sparkled, but there was something sad behind them. "Everything. A lie is a thing you never wanted to believe in the first place. A truth... a truth is something you can never un-know."
Ashwen glanced at Ilyan, clearly confused, but didn't ask more. She was too busy scanning the area for danger, and for once, her unease made her silence feel more ominous than usual. But there was something about the way Loup spoke that got under her skin. Something about the weight behind his words unsettled her in ways she couldn't explain.
The entrance to the Vault was guarded by two large stone statues, their eyes glowing faintly with a light that seemed to shimmer in response to the group's presence.
Ilyan stepped forward, ignoring the prickling sensation at the back of his neck. "So, how do we get in?"
"Ah," Monsieur Loup's voice held an unexpected quiet, "that's where the fun begins, non?"
Ilyan frowned, confused. "What do you mean by that?"
But before Loup could respond, the statues began to move, their stone joints grinding with a deafening noise. They leaned forward, their eyes narrowing in on the trio. Ilyan instinctively reached for the relic, but it was still silent in his satchel.
"Speak the truth," one of the statues said in a deep, gravelly voice. Its words echoed through the air, sending a shiver down Ilyan's spine. "Only the truth may pass."
"Ah, this is where it gets tricky," Monsieur Loup said. "Because, you see, the truth is... complicated."
Ashwen rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me we have to tell the truth to get in. That's so cliché."
Ilyan ignored her. The last time they'd been forced to speak their truth, he'd nearly lost his mind. But this time felt different. The Vault was a place where all things that didn't belong in the fabric of existence were supposedly stored. Lies, secrets, things forgotten.
The question gnawed at him: What truth was he hiding from? What was so terrifying about the truth that he had been avoiding?
He stepped forward, his heart pounding. "I'm Ilyan," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos inside. "I'm the man who died and came back."
The statues didn't respond, their glowing eyes still watching.
"What else?" one of them asked, its voice colder now. "What truth are you hiding?"
Ilyan's breath caught in his throat. He wanted to say more. He wanted to speak the truth of his journey, of the things he had lost, the choices he'd made... but it felt like something was blocking him. A wall he couldn't see but could feel.
"Nothing," Ilyan said, trying to sound more sure than he felt. "I don't have any other truths to give."
The statues were silent for a long moment.
"You lie," the first one said, its voice sharper now. "Admit it. You have something you are hiding."
"I'm not hiding anything!" Ilyan snapped, the pressure in his chest building. "I'm not! I just—"
"Ah, non, non!" Monsieur Loup interrupted, dancing forward. "The truth is a tricky thing, mon ami! It's all about how you say it. You can't just say the truth like that." He made a show of gesturing grandly with his arms, his jester's hat jingling with every exaggerated movement. "You must live the truth. You must let it consume you."
Ilyan looked at Loup, his confusion only deepening. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Loup grinned, spinning on his heel. "You want to enter? You must speak it with confidence. No hesitation. No doubt."
Ilyan took a deep breath, steeling himself. The statues were still waiting. "Alright then. I—" He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. He had to do this. There was no other choice.
"I am not just the man who died and came back," he said, voice trembling slightly. "I am the man who was lost, and when I returned, I found nothing but emptiness. I failed. I failed everyone I ever loved. I failed... myself."
The statues' eyes glowed brighter, and for the first time, they moved. One of the statues stepped aside, its massive stone arm sliding into the ground, revealing a small, darkened corridor that led into the Vault.
The other statue's voice rumbled once more, low and grave. "You may enter... but be warned. Not all truths are meant to be uncovered."
Ilyan hesitated for a moment, his heart racing. What he had just said felt like a crack in the dam he had spent so long trying to keep sealed. Was it the truth? He wasn't sure anymore.
Ashwen stood beside him, her expression unreadable. "Let's go. We've come this far."
Monsieur Loup clapped his hands together with exaggerated excitement. "Ah, the Vault! Where truths are locked away. How delicious!" He bounced ahead, entering the corridor first.
Ilyan followed closely behind, Ashwen staying right at his side. The path into the Vault felt colder, the air thick with the weight of things long forgotten.
As they walked, Ilyan glanced at the relic once more, still silent in its pouch. Something felt off about it, something he couldn't place. But for now, the Vault awaited.