Echoes of the Lost

The fortress halls felt colder.

Even as Evelyne walked beside Azrael and Lyria, a chill clung to her skin, deeper than the Underworld's usual eerie presence. The whispering voice still echoed in her mind, its words laced with something that unsettled her to the core.

"Turn back, Queen of Solmere… before you meet the same end as the last."

Evelyne clenched her fists. She wasn't the type to cower from a threat, but this wasn't an ordinary warning. Someone—or something—was watching them.

Azrael's golden eyes flickered with a storm of unreadable thoughts as he walked in silence. Even Lyria, usually sarcastic and unimpressed, looked tense.

Finally, Evelyne exhaled. "We need to find out what happened to Veythar."

Azrael didn't stop walking. "We will."

Evelyne frowned. "That spirit tried to warn me about the pact. Now, something else is trying to stop us from looking deeper. If the Elders really are behind this, what are they hiding?"

Azrael's jaw tightened. "The truth."

Lyria let out a frustrated sigh. "Which is apparently dangerous enough to get us killed."

Evelyne glanced at Azrael. "The book said Veythar no longer exists. Do we know why?"

Azrael's voice was quiet. "No recorded history speaks of its fall."

Evelyne's stomach twisted. "Then someone erased it."

A shadow crossed Azrael's expression, but he said nothing.

The silence stretched between them as they made their way deeper into the fortress. Evelyne had never been this far—past the grand halls, the throne room, and the library. These corridors were different. Older. The walls bore markings worn with time, and the air itself felt heavier.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

Azrael stopped before a towering iron door. The metal was dark, engraved with intricate runes that glowed faintly. It radiated power—ancient, untamed.

"The Archives," Azrael said.

Lyria raised a brow. "You're really going to open that?"

Evelyne studied the door. The energy pulsing from it made her bones hum.

"What's inside?" she asked.

Azrael placed a hand against the cold metal. "The knowledge that was meant to be forgotten."

The iron doors groaned open.

A rush of stale air greeted them, thick with the scent of dust, parchment, and something Evelyne couldn't quite name. The room beyond was vast, its ceiling vanishing into darkness. Stone shelves stretched endlessly, packed with ancient tomes, scrolls, and artifacts that radiated dormant power.

Unlike the main library, this place felt… untouched. Forgotten.

Lyria muttered under her breath. "I hate this place."

Azrael stepped inside without hesitation. Evelyne followed, but the moment she crossed the threshold, she felt it.

A presence.

Not hostile. Not alive, either.

Like something was watching.

Azrael didn't seem concerned as he moved deeper into the Archives. He stopped before a section of books locked behind glass, tracing his fingers over the barrier. The runes sealing it flared to life.

Evelyne stared. "You don't have access?"

Azrael's expression darkened. "This was sealed long before my reign."

Evelyne's breath hitched. If even the Demon King himself wasn't permitted to see these records, then what in the depths was so dangerous that it had to be hidden?

Lyria crossed her arms. "So what now? Break the seal?"

Azrael considered it. "If we do, the Elders will know."

Evelyne swallowed hard. "Then we need another way."

Azrael glanced at her. "I have one."

Azrael led them to a secluded section of the Archives, where a stone pedestal sat in the center of an empty chamber. The air here felt different—thicker, charged with something Evelyne couldn't place.

She watched as Azrael placed his hand on the pedestal's surface. Runes flickered to life beneath his touch, spreading outward like cracks in reality.

"What is this?" she asked.

Azrael's voice was calm. "A memory vault."

Lyria stiffened. "Oh, no. Absolutely not."

Evelyne frowned. "What's wrong with it?"

Lyria gestured to the pedestal like it had personally offended her. "It stores echoes of the past, sure. But if you access it, you don't just see the memories—you experience them. And if something dangerous happened in Veythar…" She crossed her arms. "Let's just say, dying in a memory isn't exactly fun."

Evelyne swallowed hard. That sounded horrifying.

Azrael turned to her. "It's your choice."

Evelyne hesitated.

She could walk away, let the past remain buried.

Or she could face it.

She took a steady breath. "Do it."

Azrael nodded. He placed both hands on the pedestal. The glow intensified, the air crackling with unseen energy.

Then...

A pulse of power surged outward.

Evelyne gasped as her vision blurred, the world tilting beneath her feet. The fortress walls faded, replaced by something else entirely.

A city.

No, not just any city.

Veythar.

Evelyne stood in the middle of a grand courtyard, surrounded by towering stone structures carved with glowing sigils. The sky above was dark—not from night, but from smoke. Fires raged in the distance.

The air was thick with screams.

Panic surged through the streets as figures—both human and demon—ran, their faces contorted in terror. Evelyne turned, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

Then she saw them.

Black-cloaked figures moved through the chaos, their hands raised in unison. Shadows spilled from their fingertips, twisting unnaturally. Wherever their magic touched, the land withered.

Evelyne's breath caught. Necromancers.

Not the kind from human myths, but something far worse. Their power didn't just control death—it unmade existence itself.

Something far greater than a simple war had destroyed Veythar.

A sharp pain struck Evelyne's chest. She gasped, stumbling forward—

And then she heard a voice.

"Help us."

She turned sharply.

A woman stood in the midst of the flames, her body barely solid—an echo, a memory. Her long hair was tangled, her eyes wide with desperation. She reached toward Evelyne, though she knew she couldn't see her.

Evelyne's heart pounded.

"Who are you?" she called.

The woman's lips moved, but no sound came.

Then, as if the universe itself was tearing apart, the city fractured.

A deafening roar filled the air. The ground split, swallowing entire buildings whole. The sky cracked like shattered glass.

Evelyne felt herself being pulled.

And then.....

She was back.

The Awakening

Evelyne's eyes snapped open. She gasped, sucking in a desperate breath.

The memory vault was gone. The Archives were back.

Azrael was kneeling beside her, his golden eyes sharp. "You're awake."

Evelyne pressed a trembling hand to her chest. The echoes of Veythar's fall still burned behind her eyes.

"The city," she whispered. "It wasn't destroyed by war."

Azrael's gaze darkened. "Then what happened?"

Evelyne swallowed hard.

She met his eyes, her voice barely above a breath.

"It was erased."