The staircase climbed higher than any of them expected.
Stone spiraled upward in a slow, relentless curve, each step worn smooth by centuries of forgotten feet. Pale light seeped from thin cracks in the walls, not bright enough to comfort, not dark enough to frighten just enough to remind them they were still moving.
No one spoke.
Lyra's flames were gone. Her hands were clenched so tightly that faint sparks flickered and died between her fingers. Eira walked with her head lowered, the air around her unnaturally still, as if even the wind was mourning. Naya's footsteps were quiet, measured, every step grounded, deliberate.
Saehwa led them.
Her light once clear and cold now glimmered faintly like ice about to fracture. She didn't look back. If she did, she knew she would break.
Behind her, Jimin finally whispered, his voice trembling against the stone walls.
"She didn't hesitate."
Saehwa stopped.
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.
"She knew what that creature was," Jimin continued softly. "She knew what would happen if she stayed."
Saehwa turned slowly, her eyes shining not with any magic, but with pain.
"Don't," she said. "Don't turn her into a choice."
Jimin swallowed. "I wasn't trying to—"
"She didn't choose death," Saehwa snapped, her voice cracking. "She chose us. She chose you. She chose me."
Lyra looked away, jaw clenched so hard it trembled. "And we ran."
"No," Ethan said firmly, stepping forward. "We survived because she made sure we would."
Saehwa laughed, a broken sound, hollow and sharp.
"Is that supposed to comfort me?"
No one answered.
The staircase ended.
They stepped into a vast hall and for a moment, grief loosened its grip, replaced by awe.
The Great Hall of the Castle unfolded before them, breathtaking in its quiet dignity. White stone pillars rose like frozen waves, etched with golden patterns dulled by time. Tattered banners bearing the royal crest of Jepka hung from the walls, swaying gently in unseen currents. Tall windows cracked but unbroken let pale light spill across the floor.
Kai whispered, almost afraid to breathe, "It's… beautiful."
"And empty," Naya replied softly.
Saehwa stepped forward. "This was the Great Council Hall," she murmured.
Silence fell, not the heavy kind, but the reverent kind, as if even grief had paused to look.
Tall windows arched along the walls, draped in long curtains of silver and pale blue. Though centuries had passed, the fabric still shimmered softly, untouched by decay, moving gently as if a warm breeze remembered how to breathe here. Vines of crystal flowers climbed the marble pillars, blooming in shades of moonlight and frost, their petals glowing faintly like stars caught mid-fall.
"This place…" Kai whispered, eyes wide. "It doesn't feel ruined."
"It isn't," Eira said quietly. "It's preserved."
Paintings lined the walls were grand, luminous, impossibly alive.
The first caught Ethan's attention.
A royal portrait:
A king and queen, seated side by side upon a throne of light. The king's expression was calm, wise, his crown modest yet radiant. The queen stood with one hand resting protectively over two children, a young prince and a little princess, both smiling, untouched by the weight of destiny.
"They look happy," Jimin murmured.
Farther down the hall stood another painting, larger, richer in color.
The prince had become king.
In the central portrait, he stood taller now wiser, stronger wearing a crown far more intricate than his father's. Beside him stood his queen, her hand resting protectively over her pregnant belly. Three young princes stood before them, each glowing with different magic, one confident, one curious and youngest shy.
Kai frowned slightly. "Three heirs?"
"The strongest bloodline Jepka ever knew," Lyra replied. "Balance in every form."
Noah swallowed. "That's… generations."
Eira nodded faintly. "This castle didn't fall overnight."
At the far end of the hall stood a single painting, larger than all the others.
It stole the breath from their lungs.
Suspended in the air within the frame was a crown, not worn by anyone, not resting on a throne. It hovered above a circle of light, forged of pure magic and balance. Its design was delicate yet overwhelming, woven from light, shadow, time, and will itself.
Saehwa's voice barely carried.
"The Crown of Aetherion."
Naya's breath hitched. "The heart of Jepka…"
"The crown that binds the world together," Eira whispered. "Magic, land, sky, life."
Kai frowned, eyes darting between the paintings and the empty hall. "If that crown held everything together… where is it now?"
Jimin look at the potrait "are they all..... dead?"
No one answered.
Ethan looked around slowly. "If this place was so cherished—so loved—how did it end like this?"
"And who," Noah added carefully, "is Darkness?"
The word echoed.
The girls stiffened, not dramatically, not loudly but as if something old had brushed against their backs.
Lyra's fists clenched. Fire flickered once, then vanished.
"That's… not a short story."
Naya lowered her gaze. "And not one meant to be told lightly."
Eira spoke softly, almost apologetically. "Darkness wasn't always a monster."
Saehwa stared at the floating image of the crown, her reflection faint against the glass.
"It was a name given later," she said. "After everything was already broken."
Jimin hesitated. "Did… the crown cause it?"
Saehwa gaze lingered on the hovering crown, a shadow crossing her pale features."Not all stories are about heroes," she said quietly. "Sometimes… the crown chooses, and people… people don't get to decide. That choice has always brought anger, betrayal, and ruin."
The castle seemed to breathe around them—curtains whispering, flowers glowing faintly, generations of love frozen in time.
Something too beautiful to be real.
Something too real to survive.
And somewhere deep beneath the stone, the Gate Engine waited, unfinished, patient while the past watched silently from the walls, asking a question no one was ready to answer yet.