The closer they moved toward the Prism Spire, the more the Glass Expanse seemed to notice them.
Lyra felt it like a pressure behind her eyes, as though the land itself were narrowing its gaze. The glass beneath their feet grew warmer, faint ripples spreading outward with every step, no longer questioning their presence—acknowledging it.
"That thing is staring," Lyra muttered.
Kael didn't slow. "It's been staring since we entered the Expanse. You're just finally feeling it."
"That's not comforting."
"I didn't mean it to be."
The Prism Spire loomed impossibly tall now, its interlocking crystal plates rotating slowly, silently, like the gears of a god-sized clock. Light moved through it in layered colors—violet bleeding into gold, gold dissolving into blue—never repeating the same pattern twice.
Lyra noticed something else too.
The reflections in the sky were gone.
Above the spire, the mirrored shards had fused into a single smooth canopy of glass, dark and opaque, as if the world itself had closed an eye.
They reached the basin's edge.
The ground sloped sharply downward toward the spire, forming natural steps carved by ancient pressure rather than tools. At the base, a wide platform circled the tower, etched with symbols that glowed faintly as Lyra approached.
Her satchel tugged at her side.
"Nope," she said, gripping the strap. "I am not letting that thing drag me anywhere."
Kael smirked faintly. "You're arguing with an artifact older than recorded time. Bold strategy."
They stepped onto the platform.
The symbols flared to life.
A low chime echoed through the basin, followed by a deep click that vibrated the air. One of the crystal plates slid aside, revealing a narrow entrance spiraling inward.
Lyra stared. "I hate when ancient places open doors without asking."
Kael gestured politely. "After you, Chosen Bearer Who Yells at Guardians."
She shot him a look. "You enjoyed that way too much."
"Absolutely."
Inside, the air was cool and humming softly, like the inside of a massive tuning fork. The walls shifted subtly as they walked, crystal plates adjusting their angles, refracting Lyra's torchlight into fractured halos.
The spiral passage led downward.
And downward.
"How deep does this go?" Lyra asked, trying not to think about being buried inside a living tower of glass.
Kael tilted his head, listening. "Deep enough that the world above forgets about you."
She did not like the implications of that sentence.
At last, the passage opened into a vast circular chamber. The ceiling soared high above, the spire's inner core visible—an immense crystalline column suspended in midair, rotating slowly.
At its center pulsed a shard of blinding white light.
The Heart.
Lyra's breath caught. The map surged free again, floating toward the core, its lines aligning with the rotating crystal as if remembering a dance it once knew.
Kael grabbed her wrist. "Lyra. Look around."
She tore her eyes from the Heart.
Figures stood along the chamber's edge.
Dozens of them.
Not Glasswardens—these were human-shaped, solid, their forms encased in translucent crystal like statues frozen mid-motion. Some reached outward. Some knelt. Some screamed silently, mouths open in terror or awe.
Lyra's stomach twisted. "Are they… alive?"
Kael's jaw tightened. "They were."
A chill ran down her spine. "They tried to take the Heart."
"Yes," Kael said quietly. "Or the Heart took them."
The crystal core pulsed again.
The chamber answered.
Light surged outward, washing over Lyra like a wave. She cried out, collapsing to her knees as visions slammed into her mind.
Cities built of light.
A world tearing itself apart.
A girl standing alone, holding a map as the sky burned.
And then—
Kael.
Younger. Bloodied. Standing before the Heart, sword raised, refusing to kneel.
Lyra gasped, the vision snapping away. "Kael— I saw—"
"I know," he said hoarsely. "I've been here before."
She stared at him. "You what?"
He released her wrist and stepped forward, placing himself between her and the Heart. "I told you I'd explain later. Looks like later caught up."
The crystal core flared brighter.
A voice filled the chamber, layered and harmonic, neither male nor female.
BEARER RETURNS. UNBOUND BLADE RETURNS.
Lyra pushed herself to her feet. "So it does remember."
Kael laughed bitterly. "It never forgets."
The Heart's light shifted, narrowing, focusing on Lyra.
ANOMALY CONFIRMED.
THIS BEARER DOES NOT BREAK.
Lyra swallowed. "That sounds like a test I didn't study for."
The Heart pulsed again. A beam of light shot downward, striking the floor before Lyra and forming a crystalline pedestal.
On it appeared a choice.
Two paths etched into glass.
One glowed white.
The other burned gold.
Kael stiffened. "No."
Lyra looked at him. "You know what this is."
"Yes," he said sharply. "And you don't take either."
The voice echoed, louder now.
WHITE: PRESERVATION.
GOLD: REWRITE.
Lyra's heart pounded. "Preservation of what?"
THE WORLD AS IT IS.
Her gaze shifted to the golden path. "And rewrite?"
The chamber vibrated.
THE WORLD AS IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN.
Silence stretched.
Lyra thought of the visions. The burning skies. The broken cities. The people trapped in crystal forever.
She thought of herself, ordinary and terrified, holding a map she never asked for.
Kael stepped closer, his voice low and urgent. "Lyra, listen to me. This thing lies by omission. Every rewrite costs something. Always."
She met his eyes. "You chose once, didn't you?"
He looked away.
"I chose refusal," he said quietly. "And the world punished me for it."
The Heart waited.
Lyra took a step forward.
The golden path flared brighter.
Kael grabbed her arm again. "Don't."
She placed her free hand over his. "I'm not choosing yet."
The light flickered.
The Heart hesitated.
UNPRECEDENTED RESPONSE.
Lyra straightened, fear still there—but steadied now by resolve. "You don't get my answer today. You don't get to rush me. If I'm the bearer, then I decide when."
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then the pedestal cracked.
The paths shattered into light.
The Heart dimmed slightly, withdrawing.
Kael exhaled shakily, something like awe crossing his face. "You just… stalled a god-engine."
Lyra managed a weak smile. "Guess I'm good at delaying decisions."
The chamber trembled—not in anger, but in recognition.
Somewhere deep within the Prism Spire, mechanisms shifted.
A new path was opening.
TRIAL DEFERRED, the voice intoned.
THE WORLD WATCHES.
The entrance behind them reopened, light spilling in.
Lyra turned toward it, legs trembling. "I think we should leave. Quickly."
Kael nodded. "For once, we agree."
As they ran, Lyra glanced back at the Heart one last time.
It pulsed once—slow, patient.
Waiting.
---