Chapter 33

The scream didn't echo through the chamber like a sound. It pressed itself directly into Kye's mind, as if bypassing his ears altogether. Cold. Full of pain. Full of something far worse than rage—recognition. It wasn't just any scream. It was his own. Or something that used to be his.

The pod continued to crack. Thin lines spiderwebbed across its black surface like a mirror straining to hold back something that had long outgrown it. Kye pulled his hand away, breathing hard, but the damage had already begun. The pressure in the room kept climbing, like the very air was growing heavier with each breath. Even Renna stepped back, lips drawn tight in a line of silent tension.

The boy—no, the other Kye—stood absolutely still. But this time, there was something different in his face. Not calm. Not blank. He looked… scared.

"You shouldn't have touched it," he said, barely above a whisper.

"I had to know," Kye said.

The boy shook his head. "There are things you don't get to unlearn. That sword is one of them."

Renna walked forward, trying to keep calm, but Kye could see the slight stiffness in her movements. She was on edge. Her fingers hovered close to the hilt of her dagger, though she didn't draw it. Not yet.

"What is it really?" she asked. "That blade. The scream. What was that?"

The other Kye's mouth opened, but no sound came out. His eyes flicked toward the pod, then to the mural—now altered, now missing half its image. When he finally did speak, his voice was thinner than before.

"It's not just a weapon. It's a memory. One that was sealed too deep. One that tried to become real."

Veika looked between the group, visibly frustrated. "Okay, seriously, someone explain this in normal words. I thought the scary part was the creepy glass-eyed twin, but now we've got screaming swords and disappearing wall art. And why do I feel like I'm about to throw up even though I skipped breakfast?"

Kye didn't answer her. He was still watching the cracks in the pod.

He could feel it now—something moving inside. Shifting. Breathing.

Renna stepped forward beside him, her voice low.

"You said this was a key, didn't you?"

The boy nodded.

"It's also a door," he said.

Kye turned toward him.

"A door to what?"

The boy didn't answer right away.

Then, finally, he said, "A version of you that didn't get to survive."

The silence that followed was deeper than before. Like even the walls didn't dare speak.

Kye stared at the pod, his hand now resting on the hilt of the original Vireon's Breath across his back. For the first time, the two swords felt like opposites trying to balance something much larger than either of them. One a sword of truth. The other, a cage of lies twisted so tightly they had started to bleed out on their own.

"Was this the part they erased from me?" he asked.

The boy gave a small, slow nod. "The part they feared the most."

Kye clenched his jaw.

"I want it back."

Veika actually took a step backward. "You're kidding."

Renna didn't move. But her voice was cold when she spoke next.

"If you open that pod fully, I don't think we'll be able to contain whatever comes out."

"We're already too late," the boy said. "The seal's breaking. He's waking up."

Kye looked at him sharply.

"He?"

The boy looked down.

"You."

The floor trembled softly.

Dust rained from the edges of the ceiling.

Kye moved toward the pod and dropped to one knee. He placed his hand on the edge of the cracked lid and didn't flinch this time. No scream. No pressure spike. Just the faint sensation of a heartbeat that didn't belong to him.

The other Kye took a step back. "Don't open it."

"I need to," Kye said. "If I'm going to fix any of this, I need to know the truth."

Renna crouched beside him, hand resting lightly on her dagger's hilt.

"You open that thing, you're not the only one who changes," she said. "You're dragging all of us with you."

"I know."

Another tremor. A deeper one.

The pod hissed.

The last seal cracked.

Kye gripped the edge and pulled.

The lid slid open, slow and grinding, until the interior was exposed.

There was no blood.

No body.

Just darkness.

A swirling fog, thick and silver, like smoke made from memory itself. It spiraled upward, dancing toward the ceiling. Shapes formed within it—faces, places, voices all whispering over each other, too many to count.

Then the fog surged outward.

And from it stepped a figure.

A man.

He was taller than Kye. Sharper. Wearing armor blackened with time and covered in old, faded symbols. His face was nearly identical to Kye's—but older, colder. His eyes were not glass. They were hollow sockets filled with shifting silver light.

He looked at Kye and didn't blink.

"You're the one they chose to keep," he said, voice hollow and low.

Kye rose to his feet slowly.

"And you're the one they buried."

The man smiled—but it wasn't warm. It was like watching a mask stretch over a skull.

"Not buried," he said.

"Hidden."

Kye stepped forward.

"What are you?"

"I'm what happens when truth is twisted long enough to grow teeth."

The others moved behind him. Renna to his left. Veika to his right. The other Kye—his mirror—remained frozen in place.

The air was still.

The silence returned.

And then the figure moved.

Not toward Kye.

But straight through him.

Kye gasped.

It wasn't pain.

It wasn't even touch.

It was weight.

Memories. Buried ones. Flashing behind his eyes in bursts too fast to catch.

Blood.

Fire.

A girl screaming.

His own voice—louder, angrier, unrecognizable.

And then nothing.

Kye dropped to one knee, gasping, the sword on his back screaming faintly like it had been burned.

The figure stood at the far end of the room now, his voice quiet.

"You can't stop what's coming. You were never meant to."

Kye struggled to speak, the vision fading.

He finally looked up.

And saw the mural on the wall now fully gone.

Erased.

As if history itself had decided it no longer existed.

Then the man turned.

And stepped into the wall—

Not through a door.

But *into* it.

Like memory flowing back into a forgotten space.

And the stone swallowed him.

Leaving behind nothing but silence… and Kye, kneeling on the floor, clutching a sword that no longer felt like his.