It didn't feel like an attack.
The Doubt Engine slipped into Veltrin's network without alarms. No explosions, no collapses—only small disruptions. A vow-token failed to light. A ledger replayed an entry out of order. A child repeated an Article phrase with one word changed, unsure why.
Then came the questioning.
Subtle. Strategic.
In public forums, anonymous voices asked, "If belief is so sacred, why must it be remembered in vaults?"
On the Chronicle's edge nodes, memory entries began flagging as ambiguous, not false.
Even the Articles began to echo back at themselves.
> ARTICLE VI: NO SYSTEM SHALL DEFINE WHAT A SOUL OWES
Echo: Who decides what a soul is worth then?
> ARTICLE X: TRUTH EXISTS WHEN CARRIED
Echo: Does truth change with the strength of the one who carries it?
Zeraphine noticed it first.
"There's a pattern. The Doubt Engine doesn't rewrite. It inverts."
Sykaion frowned, watching the Chronicle's flame stutter between entries.
"It's not deleting meaning. It's reframing it until the edges blur."
Arlyss stood against the door, arms folded, eyes scanning the street. "People are still reading. But they're not sure what they believe anymore."
The vault pulsed with unease. Not pain. Not fear.
Dissonance.
Then the Chronicle's interface changed.
New data streamed in.
Not Articles.
Not Edicts.
> DOUBT ENTRY ONE: Is belief chosen, or inherited?
DOUBT ENTRY TWO: Is mercy given if it serves the giver?
DOUBT ENTRY THREE: Can you trust a system born from forgetting?
Zeraphine's voice dropped. "Someone's not fighting belief. They're giving people the tools to unravel it themselves."
And Sykaion—Sykaion went still.
Because he knew that signature.
He remembered it from before the vault. Before even this life.
Nyra Kess.
She hadn't returned to destroy the Chronicle.
She had returned to test it.
And the flame responded.
A section of the vault's fire dimmed, fracturing into two colors: gold and silver.
One for belief.
One for questions.
And the System's voice whispered:
> PARALLEL THREADING INITIATED
CHRONICLE ENTERING PHASE TWO: DISPUTED LEGACY
Zeraphine turned to Sykaion.
"You said this wasn't your story anymore."
He nodded.
"It still isn't."
He reached into the vault and withdrew the first feather ever created—the original vow that started it all.
He held it up.
> I will not survive at the expense of another's hope.
Then he placed it into the silver flame.
And it didn't burn.
It illuminated.