The vault was silent again.
Arjuna stood over the blade. Its glow had faded, the runes gone dim—except for one. The name carved along its length still shone faintly:
NYSSARA
He reached out, fingers trembling, and lifted the sword.
It no longer whispered. But it watched him. He felt that in his bones.
By the time he climbed the long stair back into the ruin above, the sky outside had turned gray again. Evening fell like dust through broken rafters.
He found Tellen exactly where he expected: hunched in the broken library, surrounded by scrolls, bones, and books half-eaten by mildew. A crow sat on his shoulder, pecking gently at a locket he wore.
"You were gone a long time," Tellen said without looking up.
"I found a vault," Arjuna replied.
"I thought you might."
The historian brushed aside a pile of rotted papers and pulled out something wrapped in wax cloth. He unrolled it gently—revealing a brittle map, ink faded but still legible.
"Did you know," Tellen said, "this place used to be called the Sanctuary of the Seven Flames? Not just a fortress. A holy site."
Arjuna stared at the map. There were seven towers circled, each bearing a name in old tongue. One had been crossed out with thick, furious ink.
"What happened to the seventh flame?"
Tellen raised a brow. "Same thing that happened to you, I imagine. It was erased."
Arjuna frowned. "You speak like you know more than you say."
"I always know more than I say." Tellen grinned, teeth too sharp. "But today, I'll offer a trade."
Arjuna said nothing.
Tellen reached into his satchel and pulled out a small, sealed jar. Inside floated a curled scrap of parchment—and a single lock of black hair.
He offered it to Arjuna.
"This was in the records chamber. Fell behind a broken altar. It's yours."
Arjuna took it, slowly.
The hair stirred in the jar like it remembered him.
He swallowed. "Why give me this?"
"Because," Tellen said, "your memory is like a broken mirror. But every shard bleeds truth."
Arjuna met his gaze. "And what do you want from my truth?"
Tellen hesitated.
Then shrugged.
"To see if it kills you."
A cold wind blew through the ruin. The crow on his shoulder cawed once, then fluttered to perch on a shattered beam.
Arjuna turned the jar over in his hands. The script on the parchment was too small to read, but the wax seal was familiar—an emblem of a single flame curled around a sword.
He remembered that flame.
Flickering in the dark.
On a battlefield.In a hall of gods.Behind her eyes.
He blinked. The vision was gone.
Tellen stood.
"There's something else," he said. "In the bell tower. I think someone's buried beneath it."
Arjuna frowned. "Another knight?"
"No," Tellen said. "A child."
They walked in silence.
The tower was broken, the bell rusted through. A shallow grave sat beneath the stones—freshly disturbed. As if something had been unearthed recently, or something else had crawled inside.
Arjuna knelt and brushed the dirt aside.
Beneath the soil was a small skeleton, curled around a bundle of cloth.
Not a relic. A body.
Arjuna's throat tightened.
Tellen murmured, "There's a legend about Ashwood. Before it fell, a noblewoman begged the knights to save her daughter from a curse. They refused. The girl died on the doorstep."
Arjuna looked down at the remains.
And saw, beneath the dust, a tiny wooden token—a figurine carved like a knight, with a broken shield.
He touched it.
A pulse of memory struck him like a storm.
The child screaming.The door slamming shut.His own hand. Locking the gate.
"Forgive me…"
Arjuna staggered back.
The figurine burned in his hand—then crumbled to ash.
Tellen said nothing.
"You knew," Arjuna whispered.
"I suspected."
Arjuna looked at the bones again. "Who was she?"
"Her name was Elira. She was no one famous. But the curse that killed her was not meant for her. It was meant for a knight who betrayed an oath."
Tellen looked at him.
"I think that knight was you."
A silence deeper than sorrow fell between them.
Arjuna didn't speak. He couldn't. His chest felt hollow, his breath shallow.
Tellen placed a hand on his shoulder.
"We don't always get to remember the reasons we sinned. But the blood remembers. The earth remembers."
He turned away.
"We should leave this place by dawn."
Arjuna nodded.
But as they walked back toward the central hall, he felt the sword at his back thrum with heat.
And in the whisper of the wind, a voice returned.
—"Three times you swore. One vow remains."