“We do not fear memory,” the figure said. “We fear what it reveals.”
Thane recognized the voice. It was his own.
Solenne’s voice entered his mind. “This is a projection. A possible future. One the Archive once considered.”
Thane watched as the robed version of himself stepped down from the dais and approached a child holding a memory cube. He knelt, whispered something, and the cube dissolved into light.
The crowd bowed. The cathedral faded.
Back in the chamber, the gold thread pulsed once more, then dimmed.
Thane turned to Solenne. “Don't tell me, that was me?”
“A version of you,” she replied. “One who chose to guide rather than guard. One who believed memory could be sacred.”
Thane looked down at his palm.
The glyph had changed again—now a spiral wrapped in flame, etched in gold.
Again, he wondered, “What is going on here and what does this mean?” knowing…
“It means you’ve passed through fire,” Solenne said. “And emerged with purpose.”
The chamber responded. A new passage opened—its walls lined with dormant glyphs, waiting to be named.
Thane stepped forward. Solenne followed.
And the Archive whispered:
“To remember is to risk. To guide is to grieve. To burn is to begin.”
