Kael opened his eyes.
Selvere was still there—unblinking, unmoving, infinite patience carved into human shape. The offer still hung in the air, untouched.
Kael took one step forward. Not toward Selvere.
Just forward.
"If I decide," he said, voice quiet but clear, "I'll do it as myself. Not as your echo."
Selvere didn't flinch.
The projection began to fade—not all at once, not like a light switched off, but gradually, like a memory being erased. The lines of his face unraveled into threads of silver. His final expression remained neutral.
Then he was gone.
The corridor returned to stillness.
Kael turned to Lira. She looked at him, brows furrowed, unsure if he'd made a choice or just deferred one.
He opened his mouth to speak—but then the air shifted again.
This time, it wasn't a projection.
A pulse rippled through the stone, low and predatory. Somewhere deeper in the Vault, alarms stirred—soft, melodic tones barely audible, but unmistakably real.
"Enforcers," Lira whispered. "They're coming."
She grabbed his arm and pulled him down a side passage, one Kael hadn't noticed until now. They moved quickly, weaving through chambers and half-lit hallways. The Vault groaned softly behind them like it knew it was losing them.
Just as they reached a collapsed doorway that opened onto a forgotten transit tunnel, a figure stepped from the shadow.
Corren.
Dust coated his shoulders. His cloak was torn at one edge. His eyes were sharp.
"You've been busy," he said to Kael.
"Selvere made his offer," Kael replied.
Corren grunted. "Of course he did."
"What happened to you?" Lira asked.
Corren's expression darkened.
"I tracked his watchers. They weren't alone. House Morran's real enforcers are here now. The memory we uncovered?" He looked directly at Kael.
"It's not just dangerous. It's already waking something worse."
Kael's blood went cold.
"What do you mean, worse?"
Corren didn't answer.
Instead, he turned, drawing a blade etched with living glyphs.
"You'll see."