There was no stillness in Karsen anymore—only the illusion of calm draped over something ancient and stirring.
Three days had passed since Cyr returned from the Depth Mirror.
Each night since, he'd dreamt of hands—hundreds of them—reaching up from a bottomless pit, some clawing for salvation, others trying to drag him down. When he awoke, the curse mark over his ribs throbbed like a second heart.
Mira noticed. She said nothing.
But she watched him closely. Like she was measuring how much of the Cyr she'd known still remained.
The Old Order's Whisper
In the highest tier of the Bound Hall, beyond doors layered in sigil steel, Cyr stood across from a man draped in black-blood robes. His face was hidden behind a smooth white mask etched with ancient vow-runes.
"You shouldn't have survived the Mirror," the masked one said, voice like sand sliding over bone. "Yet you did. You opened the Eye."
Cyr didn't flinch. "Who are you?"
"A guardian of what remains unspoken. An emissary of the Old Order."
The term landed heavy.
The Old Order hadn't been seen in a generation. Rumor said they'd been dismantled after the Binding Wars—when those who tampered with system-contradicting contracts were hunted like beasts.
"You bound something," the man continued. "Didn't you?"
Cyr's jaw tensed.
"You don't understand what you carry," the masked one said, stepping closer. "Not yet. But you will. And when the Veins fracture, when the Cradle breaks open again, you'll either be our harbinger—or our executioner."
Then he vanished.
No system ping. No trace. Just silence.
And a pulse in Cyr's soul.
Mira's Thread
Later, Cyr sat with Mira beneath one of the crumbling arches near the Obsidian Garden. The moon cast pale light through cracked stone, touching her silver hair with ghostlight.
"You've changed," she said softly. "Since the Depth Mirror."
"So have you."
She smiled faintly. "Maybe. But you... you carry something now. Like you're listening to voices I can't hear."
Cyr looked away.
He wanted to tell her. About the broken threads inside him. About the binding he hadn't yet dared test. About the voice in the Mirror that whispered in his sleep.
Instead, he said, "What do you know about the Old Order?"
Her face darkened. "That they tampered with truth. That their contracts twisted the nature of the Binding System. They went too far, and were erased for it."
"Not all of them."
She turned toward him sharply.
"I met one," he added. "Or something like one. Today."
She hesitated. "You're not safe here."
Neither of them were. Not anymore.
System: Unlocked Vow Concept — Echo Sigil
[Echo Sigil: "Rooted Intent"]
A passive vow-concept that remembers decisions tied to emotional weight. Increases the stability of vow-based bindings when forged in moments of conviction.
Warning: May unintentionally link memory triggers to future bindings.
As Cyr read the new system alert, a quiet realization unfolded within him.
The more he changed, the more the System responded—almost... personally.
Like it was not just a tool.
But a mirror.
Maro's Revelation
That same night, Maro barged into Cyr's chamber unannounced, eyes wide with barely contained fear.
"They're moving," he hissed.
"Who?"
"The Thorn Tribunal. The Remnant Faction. Even the Crimson Creed. They're preparing for something around the Selection Trials—something bigger than anyone expected."
Cyr stood.
"The Trials aren't just a test anymore. They're a battlefield. They'll use them to shift power between factions."
Maro tossed a scroll onto the table. "And someone wants you at the center of it."
Closing Scene: Beneath the Garden
The chapter ends as Cyr returns to the place of his first binding—the roots beneath the Obsidian Garden. Alone.
He kneels and places his hand over the sigil-burned earth.
And for the first time since the Depth Mirror, he whispers not a name…
…but a question.
"What am I becoming?"
The ground doesn't answer.
But something far below—something sealed—shifts.