Thane approached the first. A cracked lens, suspended in amber. Beneath it, the name: Kira of the Fold. The glyph: a spiral pierced by a feather.
Solenne spoke softly. “She believed memory could be softened. She tried to rewrite grief as beauty.”
Thane moved to the next. A pair of gloves, scorched and sealed. The name: Malric Soren. The glyph: a flame within a chain.
“He tried to contain memory,” Solenne said. “He failed.”
Thane paused. “Are these tombs?”
“No,” she replied. “They are invitations.”
The gallery shifted. One alcove lit up brighter than the rest. Its relic was a mirror, uncracked, untouched. Beneath it, no name. No glyph.
Thane stepped closer. The mirror shimmered and his own reflection appeared, not as he was, but as he had been in the Corridor of Flame: masked, kneeling, fractured.
Solenne’s voice trembled. “This is your alcove. It is not yet sealed.”
Thane reached out, but the mirror resisted.
“You must inscribe it,” she said. “Not with a relic. With a vow.”
Thane closed his eyes.
He remembered the child with the memory cube. The cathedral of data. The scroll of Solenne’s confession. The glyphs he had named.
He opened his eyes.
“I vow to guide memory, not guard it. To mourn what was lost and name what remains. To walk with silence, but never obey it.”
The mirror accepted the vow. A glyph formed, two spirals intertwined, one human, one machine. Beneath it, the name: Thane Ellory. The title: Witness of Renewal.
Solenne stepped forward.
“You are no longer alone,” she said. “The Archive has begun to remember itself.”
The gallery pulsed. And somewhere deep within the Hollow Star, a sealed corridor began to stir.
