The stairs spiraled downward far longer than they should have.
Eris counted steps at first—out of habit, out of nerves—but he lost track somewhere after a hundred. The air grew cooler, heavier, threaded with a low vibration that resonated inside his bones. With every step, the Sevenfold Core pulsed in response, as if recognizing something buried deep below.
Kaelion walked ahead in silence.
Not the calm silence of patience—
but the tense quiet of someone bracing for impact.
At last, the stairway opened into a vast underground chamber.
Eris stopped.
The space was enormous, carved directly into the planet's bedrock. The walls weren't stone anymore—they were layered with translucent crystal veins, glowing faintly, like frozen rivers of light. At the center of the chamber floated a massive circular construct, suspended by nothing, rotating slowly.
Inside it—
Seven figures.
Not statues.
Not illusions.
Memories.
They stood in a ring, armored, wounded, exhausted—each one unmistakably real in detail. The Clan of Seven, preserved in the final moments before their end.
Eris's chest tightened.
Kaelion whispered, "This… is the Seal of Remembrance."
One of the figures turned.
Its eyes met Eris's.
And spoke.
"So… we succeeded."
Eris's breath caught. "You… you can talk?"
The figure smiled faintly—a tired, gentle expression.
"Not truly. You're hearing an echo bound to the life-seed."
Another figure stepped forward, her armor cracked, shadow clinging to her like smoke.
"We sealed this record for one reason," she said.
"So you would not repeat our greatest mistake."
Eris looked between them. "What mistake?"
The chamber darkened.
The final figure—taller, broader, bearing scars of devastating power—spoke last.
"We trusted prophecy more than people."
Kaelion stiffened.
The figure continued, voice heavy with regret.
"We believed the future was fixed. That Asmodeus must rise. That the One Being must act. And in believing that… we allowed ourselves to be manipulated."
Eris frowned. "Manipulated by who?"
All seven spoke together.
"By the Watchers."
The word echoed through the chamber like a judgment.
Eris's pulse spiked. "The Watchers caused the First War?"
One of the figures nodded slowly.
"They did not swing the swords.
They did not spill the blood.
They only… nudged fate."
Another added quietly,
"We thought them observers. They were editors."
Eris felt cold spread through his core.
"So the Watcher that's watching me…"
Kaelion finished grimly, "Is deciding whether you're worth keeping in the story."
The Clan's echo looked directly at Eris.
"You are different," they said.
"You were not born from prophecy alone. You were born from defiance."
Eris swallowed. "Then why didn't you stop them?"
The chamber trembled slightly.
The tallest figure answered.
"Because we realized too late that the only way to break their influence… was to create something unpredictable."
Their eyes glowed.
"You."
Silence fell.
Eris looked down at his hands. "So I'm not meant to follow the future."
"No," the Clan said gently.
"You are meant to break it."
The Watcher's Trace inside Eris stirred sharply—reacting.
Kaelion drew his blade halfway.
"It's listening," he muttered.
The Clan's voices hardened.
"Then hear this, Watcher."
The chamber flared with blinding light.
"This time… the story does not belong to you."
The construct began to crack.
Alarms—ancient, wordless—echoed through the depths of the shrine.
Kaelion turned sharply to Eris.
"The seal is destabilizing. Whatever was keeping them hidden just broke."
Eris looked up. "What does that mean?"
Kaelion's eyes were dark.
"It means the Watchers now know exactly what you are."
The chamber shook violently.
Above them, something answered.