The Academy's remains stood atop old bones.
Long before it was a school, before the Conclave and even the first Architects, this place had been a cradle for gods. At least, that's what Valmira discovered when the Flame's awakening unearthed the lowest level of the ruins.
We descended through spiral stairs revealed by firelight. With each step, the pressure grew—an invisible weight pressing down, as if the past itself didn't want to be remembered.
At the bottom, we found a door with no handle.
Just a single sentence burned across it:
"To build anew, bury the truth."
Lilith stepped forward, placing her hand on the stone.
"Open it," I whispered.
The stone vanished.
What lay beyond was not a chamber, but an impossible void of starlight, flickering with memories — battles, betrayals, births, deaths — not illusions, but raw truth.
Seraphina staggered. "This is where they buried the original world."
And it was still alive.
Waiting.
