The path to the Vault of Rejected Truths wasn't easy. In fact, it was downright inconvenient.
Ilyan, Ashwen, and Loup stood at the edge of a narrow, gaping ravine. The stone walls were slick with moss, and the air smelled faintly of decay — not that it was any surprise. The place was supposed to be where truth went to die, after all. And judging by the state of the land around them, it had been dying for quite some time.
"I'm starting to regret not just sticking with the original plan," Ashwen muttered, pulling her cloak tighter around her. The wind was fierce, biting at their exposed skin.
"You regret it now?" Ilyan raised an eyebrow. "You mean you didn't regret it when we were being chased by that ridiculous bureaucratic assistant in the Ministry?"
"Alright, fair point." Ashwen rolled her eyes. "But this? This is going to be miserable."
Loup, who had remained unusually quiet as they journeyed through the rugged terrain, now twirled a baton in his hand, humming a cheerful tune under his breath. He glanced at them, a grin spreading across his face. "Ah, but what's life without a little inconvenience? A dash of misery, a pinch of chaos? Is that not the true spice of existence?"
Ashwen shot him an exasperated look. "You're impossible."
"Impossible?" Loup feigned surprise, dramatically placing a hand over his chest. "Mon cher, I am a jester! It is my nature to be just as bewildering and unpredictable as a rabbit in a magician's hat. Do not deny me my essence."
Ilyan chuckled despite himself. "Well, as long as you're not pulling any rabbits out of thin air, I think we're good."
"I do not do rabbits, Ilyan," Loup responded with mock disdain, flipping the baton in his hand with a flourish. "I prefer my magic more sophisticated, non?"
Ashwen shook her head. "Alright, I'm going to start calling you Monsieur Impossible."
Loup winked. "That's the spirit! Perhaps you will find the jester in me more endearing after all."
"Endearing is not the word I'd use," Ashwen muttered under her breath.
Ilyan had to hold back a laugh as they trudged onward, but soon enough, the lighthearted moment was replaced by the oppressive weight of their mission.
The Vault was rumored to be hidden in a place called the "Convergence Hollow," a place that existed in multiple realities at once. A place that, if you didn't know the right words or hold the right key, would swallow you whole.
They reached the edge of the ravine, where a vast, gnarled tree stood like a twisted sentinel. Its roots wrapped around the rocks, and its bark seemed to shimmer in the low light, like it was alive in a way that trees weren't supposed to be. A glowing sigil was carved into the trunk — a spiral, with smaller spirals branching off from it, forming a complex, dizzying pattern.
"This is it," Ilyan said, his voice quiet. "This is where the path to the Vault begins."
"Let's just hope the path doesn't try to eat us first," Ashwen replied, looking at the sigil suspiciously.
Loup stepped forward, twirling his baton again. "Ah, eating, yes? Now we are talking! I do enjoy a good snack before a long journey!"
Ilyan shot him a look. "I'm pretty sure you don't mean that literally."
Loup chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But you never know, mon ami. In this world, anything is possible. Who's to say what is and isn't?"
"Right." Ilyan sighed, clearly out of his depth. "Well, I guess we have no choice but to try."
He approached the tree and placed his hand on the glowing sigil, feeling the warmth of the magic pulse through his fingers. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and whispered the words the old man had told him to speak.
"I seek the truth that was forgotten. I seek the weft that was lost."
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a low, grinding noise, the sigil flared with light, and the ground beneath them shook. The tree's roots began to shift, pulling back from the rocks as if they were opening a door.
The entrance to the Convergence Hollow was revealed — a swirling vortex of shifting colors, like a portal that didn't quite know where it wanted to lead. It flickered in and out of reality, the edges of it jagged and unstable.
"Well, it's… definitely interesting," Ashwen muttered, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the swirling vortex.
"It looks like it wants to eat us," Loup added cheerfully, his grin widening.
Ilyan didn't laugh this time. Instead, he stood at the edge of the portal, feeling the pull of it, the call of the unknown. It was tempting, and yet terrifying. He wasn't sure what awaited them on the other side, but he knew one thing for sure: he had to go.
"I'm going," he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else.
Ashwen gave him a long, measuring look before nodding. "You're right. We're in this together."
Loup, still in his usual playful mood, clicked his heels together and skipped toward the portal. "Mon Dieu! I am absolutely delighted to step into the unknown! Who knows what wonders await?"
Ilyan smiled despite the tension. He glanced at Ashwen, who gave him a half-smile in return. With that, they stepped into the vortex, and the world around them twisted.
The journey through the Convergence Hollow was unlike anything Ilyan had experienced. The air was thick, heavy with the sense of reality bending and warping around them. It felt like they were walking through a dream — or maybe a nightmare, where nothing made sense, and everything was a shade of wrong.
At times, the ground beneath them seemed to shift, forcing them to step carefully as the world threatened to reassemble itself around them. The sky above flickered between stars and shadows, as though it couldn't decide what to be.
Loup was humming something to himself, seemingly unaffected by the oddness of the place. He occasionally skipped ahead, as if this were some kind of game for him.
"Are you sure we're heading in the right direction?" Ashwen asked, her voice tinged with concern.
"I think so," Ilyan replied, though even he wasn't certain. "I don't really know what's 'right' here. But the Vault is supposed to be somewhere deep within."
They walked for what felt like hours, but the environment refused to provide any sense of time. The oddity of the Hollow played tricks on their minds, and it was hard to trust anything they saw. The path seemed to stretch on forever.
Eventually, they reached a clearing. In the center, a massive door stood, carved from shimmering stone. The door was covered in intricate runes, and the air around it hummed with raw, ancient magic.
Ilyan stepped forward, heart pounding. This was it. This was the door to the Vault. But as he reached for the handle, the ground rumbled beneath them again. Something shifted, a figure materializing from the shadows.
A voice, low and smooth, echoed around them. "You seek what was never meant to be found, Ilyan of the Recently Dead."
The figure stepped into the light. A tall, cloaked figure with eyes that glowed with a deep, unsettling intensity. The aura around them radiated power.
Ilyan's breath caught in his throat.
This was no ordinary guardian.
This was a keeper of the Vault.