The ground trembled under their feet.
Eloryn shoved Maren back just as a spear of stone erupted from the cracked floor, narrowly missing his chest. The Archive groaned as ancient walls began to collapse inward, dust blooming like smoke around them.
Inquisitor Theron advanced through the rubble, palm glowing with the crimson light of bloodcraft—a forbidden magic once lost to the empire, now wielded in secret by the Crown's elite.
"Your visions end here, Oracle," he said. "You've defied the Book. There will be no rebirth this time."
Eloryn drew in a slow breath, eyes blazing white-blue. "Then let this life burn brighter."
The air around her rippled. Her feet left the ground. From the shard hidden in her satchel, a ribbon of starlight uncoiled, spiraling into her hands like a living blade.
Maren had never seen such power—raw, ancient, personal. It wasn't holy magic. It wasn't taught. It was remembered.
Eloryn moved like fire.
She met Theron in a clash of light and blood, their strikes faster than sight. His crimson blade howled with the echo of centuries, but her starlight danced around it, slicing through the illusions he wove into reality.
But Theron was not just a soldier. He was a hunter. He had killed Oracles before.
With a brutal twist of his wrist, he drew a dagger from his cloak—a dark sliver etched with runes in a lost dialect. He threw it—not at Eloryn, but at the Mirror shard on her belt.
It struck home.
The glass exploded in a burst of memory and light.
Eloryn screamed, not from pain, but from disconnection—as though part of her soul had been ripped away.
The visions vanished. The starlight blade flickered and died.
Maren surged forward, grabbing her before she collapsed completely. The Archive shook harder now, the pit glowing faintly as the energies inside went wild.
Theron didn't smile. "This was never about killing you," he said. "Only making you forget."
Then he turned and vanished into the dust.
Maren carried Eloryn out of the collapsing Archive, shielding her from falling debris. Outside, dawn had broken fully. The crows watched from above—but made no sound.
*****************