Their home was not built for safety.
It was built for containment.
Skyler never noticed it before—never questioned the double-thick walls, the magnetic seals on the inner doors, or why every window was lined with reflective film that dimmed the stars. The moment his pendant opened, though, everything began to look like a cage.
His sister, Saya, sat crouched by the far wall. Her long black hair hung in curls that curled unnaturally—like they moved when no one looked. She didn't speak much. But she always drew.
Circles. Eyes. Flames.
Today was different.
She had drawn Skyler's face—on the floor, on the ceiling, even on the underside of the metal bunk bed. And beside each face was a symbol: a shattered circle, a ring of thorns, or a bleeding star.
Skyler stepped closer. "What are these?"
She tilted her head. "Versions of you. I dreamt them."
"How many?"
"Seven. So far."
Their mother didn't flinch at that. She simply poured water into cups etched with runes Skyler had never really noticed until now. His father stood by the terminal, scanning reports not from their world—but from others.
Other realities.
Other versions of Earth.
"The house," his mother began slowly, "was designed by Aeria. Long ago. It's not just a shelter—it's a vault. A limiter. A firewall for your blood."
Skyler looked around again, and for the first time, saw the runes inscribed into every inch of metal, every panel, every pipe.
"It's to keep the multiverse from waking up too early," she said.
His father finally spoke. "And to keep you from tearing through time with your mind."
Silence.
Skyler stared at his sister, who now traced the seventh version of him in reverse—with flame chalk.
"You're not just our son," his father added. "You're the last lock on the Archive."
Skyler's heartbeat pounded.
"Archive?"
They nodded.
"The Archive of All That Ever Was," his mother whispered. "It lives inside your blood. You were born remembering it—but the seals were placed to protect you. Four seals. Four truths. Four triggers."
A memory bloomed behind Skyler's eyes. A flicker of a woman's voice—Aeria—saying:
> "When the four are broken, he will burn again. And when he burns, the gods will tremble."
Skyler staggered back.
"What if I don't want this?" he whispered.
His mother's eyes glowed faintly. "It doesn't matter."
Then she walked to the wall panel and pressed a hidden sequence of sigils.
A hidden door slid open.
A staircase spiraled downward—far beneath the house.
Cold wind blew upward.
At the bottom of the stairs pulsed a room carved from obsidian and marked with the crest of the True Witness: a flame wrapped around a single eye, encircled by broken chains.
"It's time to descend," his father said.
"And begin the remembering."
Skyler looked once more at his family of four—the last Witnesses in all the multiverse—and stepped down into the dark.