The man didn't move at first.
He sat hunched on a stone throne that pulsed faintly beneath layers of broken glyphs and rusted circuitry. His head tilted, silver hair tangled around his jaw like cobwebs.
But his presence filled the entire chamber like thunder just waiting to roll.
Dae didn't breathe.
Didn't speak.
He just… watched.
Because something inside him — some forgotten instinct — whispered:
Kneel.
But he didn't.
Not yet.
.
.
.
"I asked you a question," the man said again, voice like splintered stone.
"Do you even remember what you were born to become?"
.
.
.
Dae swallowed, jaw tight.
"I don't remember anything," he whispered. "Not really."
The man nodded, slowly.
"Good," he said. "That means you're still dangerous."
He lifted his head.
Both eyes locked on Dae now — one clouded by blindness, the other burning like molten script.
"You are the wrong piece… in a game they thought they rigged."
"And you," he added, with the ghost of a smile, "shouldn't exist."
.
.
.
"I was called Kaelion," the man said. "A long time ago."
He looked around the Vault with something like contempt.
"Before they buried me here. Before they pretended I was never part of the Council. Before they rewrote history to make their stories cleaner."
Dae took a cautious step closer.
"You were one of them?"
"Worse," Kaelion said. "I was the first who disagreed."
.
.
.
Dae blinked. "Disagreed with what?"
Kaelion tilted his head.
"With sealing knowledge."
His chained wrist twitched. The air shifted.
"They created rings like Kairoth — tools to shape, defend, remember. And then they buried them. Hid them. Coded them to bloodlines and control systems. Because they feared what might be remembered."
He nodded toward Dae's hand.
"But your ring rejected their system."
"It chose chaos."
"It chose you."
.
.
.
Dae's chest tightened.
"I didn't ask for any of this."
"No one does," Kaelion said. "But only some are born to survive it."
.
.
.
He gestured, and the chains around his shoulders groaned.
Glyphs lit up in the walls.
The air shifted.
Reality… wavered.
And Dae suddenly dropped to his knees, clutching his head.
The voices—
Thousands. Screaming. Laughing. Crying.
All around him.
"What the hell is this—?!"
.
.
.
"That," Kaelion said calmly, "is the inside of your own mind."
He let the illusion fade.
Dae gasped, pale and shaking.
"You're fractured," Kaelion said, as if it were the weather. "Half-awake. Half-bound. You walk with power older than language, and yet you tremble at shadows."
"I can teach you to stop that."
.
.
.
...
He raised his hand — still shackled — and shadows from the walls folded around Dae like smoke.
"Lesson one," Kaelion said. "Your mind is a battlefield. And you've left it undefended."
.
.
.
Suddenly, Dae was back in the dome.
But alone.
No Selene.
No lights.
Just that figure again.
Its hand pressed against the dome.
Its voice whispering in his head.
"You shouldn't be here yet."
"You weren't supposed to wake."
.
.
.
Dae backed away — heart hammering — but then remembered:
This isn't real.
Kaelion's voice echoed around him:
"Control the scene. Control the fear."
He closed his eyes.
Focused.
This isn't real.
This is mine.
And when he opened them—
The figure was gone.
.
.
.
Dae stood alone again.
And for the first time… felt taller.
.
.
.
Back in the Vault, Kaelion smiled.
"Good."
"You're not a master yet," he said, voice weary. "But you've stopped being prey."
He coughed—hard—blood dark and dry slipping past his lip.
Dae stepped forward, instinctively reaching out.
Kaelion flinched.
"You shouldn't care," he snapped.
Dae blinked.
"But I do."
.
.
.
The old man stared at him for a long time.
Then exhaled.
"You'll be worse than me," he whispered. "And that is hope."
.
.
.
.....
Kaelion's chains loosened slightly.
He shifted, reaching behind the throne.
And from a hidden slot, pulled something wrapped in cloth as black as forgetting.
He held it out.
Dae stepped closer and took it.
The cloth disintegrated.
.
.
.
What remained was a book.
Ancient. Bound in metal and memory.
Symbols writhed across the surface like living things.
They burned to look at.
But when Dae opened it—
The pages shifted to language.
His language.
.
.
.
"You can read it?" Kaelion asked.
Dae nodded, stunned.
"Some of it."
"That's enough," Kaelion rasped. "The book is alive. It recognizes your blood. It's one of the last relics the Council failed to erase."
He leaned back, breathing harder now.
"I kept it. And for that, they locked me here."
.
.
.
Dae looked at the book, then at the dying man.
"There has to be a way to free you."
"There isn't," Kaelion said softly.
"There was a trade. One mind for one lock. I am the price."
"But you," he added, "will remember me."
Dae shook his head, stepping closer. "You don't have to go—"
"I already have," Kaelion said.
And smiled.
"I've just been waiting for you to notice."
.
.
.
...….
His body began to unravel.
Not like a ghost.
But like a recording that had run its last loop.
His voice grew fainter.
"You'll find me in the book."
"In every page you can't yet understand."
"In every scar they made you forget."
"And when the seal breaks—"
His face flickered.
"—run."
...…..
Dae reached for him.
"Wait—wait—please—"
Kaelion's last whisper:
"Live like someone gave up their future… so you could find yours."
And then—
He was gone.
Completely.
.
.
.
Dae stood alone again.
Book in hand.
Breath shaking.
And behind him—
The Vault sealed shut.
.
.
.
...…..
He walked back slowly.
The walls no longer whispered.
But the ring on his finger burned softly.
So did the book.
And somewhere deep in his chest—
Something else began to pulse.
Not fear.
Not memory.
Something like… awareness.
.
.
.
He looked up.
Selene's voice buzzed through the static on a forgotten comm device.
"Dae? Are you alive?"
He smiled faintly.
"Just barely."
"But I found something."
"And I think…"
"We're not alone in this."
.
.
.
.
To be continued in Chapter 25 – The Language of Chains