Chapter Twelve – The Crimson Room

The descent through the Echo Archive was like falling through memories.

Each floor whispered fragments of thought—ancient confessions and forgotten truths etched into the thread itself. I ignored them, clinging to the path Kael showed me.

Down. Down. Down.

Until the air grew hot, and the silence was no longer empty.

It was watching.

I stepped into a chamber bathed in dim red light—the Crimson Room.

At the center was a circular seal of golden threads, humming faintly. Riven knelt inside, arms shackled, body trembling, but still holding on.

I moved fast.

"Riven!" I dropped beside him, hands glowing as I tried to loosen the bindings.

His eyes fluttered open—clouded at first, but then sharp and hungry.

"Sera…" His voice was dry, cracked. "They said you wouldn't come."

"Then they don't know me at all."

But as I reached to free him, I felt something pulse beneath the threads. A warning.

He grabbed my wrist before I touched the center glyph. "Stop. It's bound to me."

I looked down. The seal wasn't just restraining him—it was feeding off him.

The floor drank from his thread like roots drawing water.

"Why are they draining you?" I asked.

His jaw clenched. "Because they want to control what's awakening inside me."

"What do you mean?"

He looked up at me—eyes blazing faint gold. The same hue I saw in Kael. The same I saw in my reflection once, days ago.

"They're not just afraid of the thread we share," Riven whispered. "They're afraid of what we become when we're together."

A sudden rumble shook the chamber.

A new presence entered—the air thickened.

I spun around.

A figure emerged from the far shadows—tall, cloaked in deep indigo thread. A Thread Inquisitor.

"You should not be here, girl," the Inquisitor said. "Your bond has poisoned enough already."

Riven surged forward, despite the chains. "Touch her and I swear—"

"Swear?" the Inquisitor laughed. "You already swore loyalty to the Council. This… traitor beside you will burn for what she's done."

I stood.

Heart racing.

One hand behind me, gripping Kael's silver-threaded illusion blade.

I took a breath.

"You want a show?" I said.

And I raised the blade high.

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