The path through the Unseen City felt different now.
Each step Aeron took beside Segirus was slow, heavy—not from fatigue, but from the weight of memories that weren't his. The silence around them pressed in, not empty, but reverent, as if the city itself held its breath in mourning.
The further they walked, the more Aeron noticed it:
Not just the decay of the city, but the lingering presence of its people—his people.
Children's laughter seemed to echo faintly in the hollow alleyways. Light danced in the cracks of broken stones, like shadows of moments long past. The canals whispered, not with water, but with forgotten names.
Segirus said nothing for a long time.
But the way he moved—his slow, deliberate gait, the way his fingers brushed walls as they passed—said more than words could. He wasn't just remembering. He was feeling. Living the past all over again.
Aeron glanced at him. "You really lived here…"
Segirus didn't look back. His voice, when it came, was quiet. "I did."
They turned a corner into a long colonnade that opened onto a shattered plaza. The ground here was cracked and warped, as if something massive had once struck it, and had never been repaired.
Segirus stopped.
"This was where we made our stand," he murmured. "The final time the gods came."
Aeron frowned. "What happened?"
Segirus stepped into the plaza, his cloak trailing behind him like a shadow. "They didn't just come to destroy us. They came to erase us. Every rune, every word, every soul."
He reached down, brushing away dust from the center of the cracked stone. Beneath it lay the faint outline of a symbol—circular, layered, with spiral elements intertwined. The mark pulsed faintly beneath his fingers.
"My sister stood here," he said. "Your mother. Alone, when the others had fallen. She bought me enough time to escape with a fragment of our memory."
Aeron felt his chest tighten. He knelt beside Segirus. "Why didn't you tell me before?"
Segirus looked at him, his expression unreadable. "Would you have believed it?"
Aeron didn't answer.
Segirus rose, dust trailing from his fingers. "Come. There's something you must see."
They continued through a narrow archway that descended beneath the city. The stone here was older, untouched by the sun, untouched even by time. The runes engraved on the walls were no longer familiar to Aeron—they pulsed with a deeper rhythm, like a heartbeat buried in the earth.
At the end of the path stood a blank wall. Seamless. Solid. Silent.
Segirus raised his hand and pressed it to a rune that shimmered only faintly—almost as if it were waiting for him. The stone rippled like water. Then, without a sound, it dissolved into a spiral of golden light.
Aeron stared.
Beyond the wall was a vast spiral staircase descending into the dark.
"Only the blood of the Runeborn can open this path," Segirus said quietly. "Your mother told me that, before she… before she sealed it."
Aeron swallowed. "She built this?"
"No," Segirus whispered. "She remembered it. The Library was older than any of us. She was just the last to protect it."
They descended into the earth. Step by step, darkness wrapped around them—not the cold emptiness of night, but a kind of sentient quiet, like the world was listening.
After what felt like hours, they emerged into a vast, circular chamber.
Aeron stopped.
He couldn't breathe.
Towering shelves curved up and around them like the ribs of a giant beast. The walls were alive with floating runes, drifting like stars across the ceiling. Ancient books bound in dragonhide, glowing stones etched with memory, silver threads that vibrated with sound.
There were no torches. No lanterns. The room glowed from the magic it contained.
Segirus stepped forward slowly, reverently. "This is the Library of the Forgotten."
Aeron could hardly move. "This… all of this… how has it survived?"
Segirus turned, his face shadowed by something more than time. "Because she chose to die here. She wove her final rune into the foundation. A binding seal. It protects what remains of us."
Aeron stepped forward. "Can it still be unsealed?"
Segirus nodded. "Partially. But only you can do that now."
As Aeron reached toward one of the floating runes, it flickered—and with it, he saw her.
Not a full vision. Just a glimpse.
A woman with fire in her eyes. Silver runes coiling around her fingers. Standing in the heart of the city, arms outstretched, her body glowing with power as the gods descended like shadows behind her.
His mother.
Segirus stepped beside him. "She fought them alone because she knew the truth was worth more than survival. And she knew… one day, you'd come."
Aeron's voice shook. "Why didn't she tell me?"
Segirus's voice was heavy. "Because you would never have been safe. Not until you could find your way here on your own."
The shelves behind them shifted—rotating slowly, as if reacting to Aeron's presence. A small passage opened at the far end of the library, lit by violet light and inscribed with a single rune:
Remember.
Segirus turned to Aeron. "She left something in there. For you. Her final truth."
Aeron looked at the opening. The air around it shimmered with old magic, thick with emotion.
"She believed you could finish what she started," Segirus said quietly. "And I believe that too."
Aeron took a breath.
And stepped into the chamber.
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