[Epilogue: The Silent Pair]
The hall is empty now.
Chairs still warm with presence.
Echoes folding back into the stone.
Yet two never spoke.
Two never sat.
Behind the lattice of the stained-glass veil,
where even the Gamesmaster does not glance—
they remain.
One leans forward, face obscured beneath an embroidered hood.
The other sits backwards in a chair meant for no one,
their hand slowly turning a sigil-laced coin.
???:
"They played well."
???:
"But none noticed the empty seventh seat."
The glass shimmers faintly.
Not light. Not heat.
Just… awareness.
Between them rests something locked in a casing of shifting script.
A fragment. A final truth.
???:
"When they ask the right question, we will answer."
???:
"And when they look where none have dared, they will find us."
The Guild sleeps.
The Keeper rests.
But the game is not done.
It never was.