"Desire shapes paths long before you admit what you want."
Silence pooled across the Anchor Vault after Aarav's declaration.
Not peaceful silence.
Expectant.
The kind that waits to see who you become.
Aarav pushed himself upright, breath still uneven, but his hands steadying. He felt… clearer. Not healed, not complete, but anchored in a way he hadn't been since the first fracture cracked open the ground beneath him.
Meera wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, pretending she hadn't been crying. "Don't do that again."
Aarav managed a faint smile. "Which part?"
"All of it," she snapped. "Especially the falling into memory voids part."
Amar sheathed his dagger, though his hand lingered near it. "Good. You're alive. Now let's get out of this temple before it tries to give you a second personality."
The boy tugged Aarav's sleeve. "Can we go home now?"
Aarav's heart broke a little. "Not yet. But we'll keep you safe."
A subtle vibration ran through the chamber floor—soft, uneasy. The Tower of Mirrors responded instantly, its suspended shards rotating faster, sending streaks of bent light across the room.
Meera stiffened. "Uh, is the room supposed to be doing that?"
Arin's voice answered from behind them.
"No."
Aarav froze.
Amar spun with his dagger drawn. "You're alive?"
Arin stepped into the chamber, leaning heavily on his staff. Dust coated his clothes. A thin cut ran across his cheek.
But he was standing.
Exhausted.
Bruised.
Breathing.
Alive.
Meera ran to him and punched his shoulder. "You idiot! You scared us!"
Arin winced. "I didn't intend to be trapped with an echo-spawn."
Aarav exhaled like someone had opened a fist around his ribs. "You—how did you escape?"
Arin gestured toward a cracked corridor behind him. "Old temple pathways still answer to sanctum markings. Barely."
Amar frowned. "You outran that thing?"
"I diverted it," Arin said.
"Where is it now?" Aarav asked quietly.
Arin's eyes softened in a way Aarav didn't like.
"It isn't coming."
Aarav swallowed. "Meaning?"
Arin gripped his staff tighter. "Meaning the temple consumed it."
Meera shivered. "That's worse than if it had chased us."
A faint rumble shook the chamber again.
Arin's gaze swept the walls. "The vault is unstable. Aarav's trial woke anchors buried in its structure. The temple is… adapting."
Aarav pushed to his feet. "Adapting how?"
Arin approached him. "To you."
Aarav tried not to flinch.
Meera looked around nervously. "Can we talk while leaving instead of standing here like we're ordering dessert?"
Arin nodded. "The vault entrance leads out through the lower sanctum. It will return us to the surface without passing the echo-spawn's chamber."
"Good," Amar grunted. "Lead the way."
But before they left, the mirrors shifted one last time.
Not violently.
Not threateningly.
Just enough to project a final reflection across the room.
Aarav turned toward it—and froze.
The mirror showed him standing on the temple threshold…
…but behind him stood three figures.
Amar.
Meera.
Arin.
All steady.
All close.
All watching him.
All ready to follow.
Aarav's breath caught.
"It's showing you what anchors _you,_" Arin said quietly from behind him.
Meera reached over and nudged his shoulder. "Told you you're stuck with us."
Amar snorted. "Yeah yeah. Teamwork. Friendship. Let's move."
Aarav touched the mirror gently.
This time, it didn't flare.
It didn't crack.
It didn't show a broken crown or hollow eyes.
It simply dimmed.
As if acknowledging his choice.
Arin motioned to the exit. "We leave. Now."
The path beyond the vault was tighter—older, dustier. Carvings faded on the walls as if the resonance that kept them alive had moved deeper into the structure, leaving this place drained.
Meera kept a grip on the boy's hand and stayed close to Aarav. "You okay?"
Aarav nodded. "Better than I expected."
"Good," she said. "Try not to traumatize yourself again in the next ten minutes."
He let out a soft laugh. "No promises."
Arin led them through an archway carved with layered circles—faded, ancient, once-powerful symbols. As they passed, the circle markings faintly glowed again, reacting to Aarav's presence like a weary heartbeat.
Finally, the corridor opened into a slanted passage illuminated by natural light.
Aarav's chest loosened. "We're near the surface."
"Yes," Arin said. "Another 200 steps."
Amar groaned. "You counted?"
"I always count."
The passage curved upward until the narrow opening at the top widened—revealing dusk sky, deep blue and streaked with orange.
Fresh air hit Aarav like a blessing.
Meera breathed deeply. "Finally."
The boy whispered, "We're outside…"
Aarav nodded. "We're safe."
Arin stepped to Aarav's side and looked over the valley below.
Not much was visible—but the ruined outpost sat in the distance like a dead memory.
Amar lowered the hollow man onto a patch of soft grass. "What now?"
Arin closed his eyes.
"The temple has spoken. Aarav passed the trial. But the King's attention is no longer theoretical."
Aarav swallowed. "He saw me. In the trial."
"I know," Arin said.
Meera sat beside the hollow man, checking his pulse. "So what's next?"
Arin opened his eyes.
And for the first time since the story began, his voice carried fear he couldn't hide.
"Next, we run before night falls."
He turned to them.
"Because the fractures won't wait anymore."
He pointed east.
"To the first sanctum. The place where anchors were born."
Aarav's heart thudded.
"What's it called?" he asked.
Arin answered with a name that tasted like history and danger wrapped together:
"The Vale of Origin."
And before Aarav could breathe—
a tremor rolled through the valley below.
Fast.
Hard.
Deep.
The ground shivered.
The world pulsed.
And far beyond the horizon—
something opened.
"Something in the world leaned closer, listening to what he couldn't say yet."