The vault chamber beneath Vayne Tower was older than the building itself—far older than the city. It was a sanctum carved directly into the crust between realms, layered in protective glyphs that pulsed like breathing stars.
The walls, obsidian-black, shimmered with embedded soulglass—a material known to store memory, magic, and sound. The air was unnaturally cold, like a deep cellar laced with metal and something older… dust from a place untouched by time.
Elias's footsteps echoed as he entered the inner vault. Here, the scent was thick—aged parchment, burnt cedar, and the faint trace of etherium smoke, a relic vapor left behind by spell-bound security wards.
Waiting inside was Riven Calder, head archivist of AetherCorp's Memory Vaults, and one of the few people who had unrestricted access to the classified vault layers. His skin was pale as frost, his features sharp like something carved rather than born. He wore layered robes of deep maroon and black, cut with slanted edges and weighted with steel-stitched hems. Silver cords bound his left arm, marking his rank in the Order of Aether Memory—a division few even knew existed.
As Elias stepped into the chamber, Riven didn't bow. He never did.
"You're early," Riven said, eyes flicking up behind rectangular, rune-etched glasses.
"You're late," Elias returned smoothly.
Without a word, Riven turned and gestured toward the memory archive—a wall of floating hexagonal panels suspended mid-air by magnetic runes. As he waved his hand, the center panel expanded and glowed a dull amber.
A string of red glyphs scrolled across it.
FILE: ECHELON-01
STATUS: ACCESSED
PERMISSION LEVEL: ANCESTRAL
ARTIFACT LINK: THE ECLIPSED COEUR
WARNING: SOUL-BIND LOCK INITIATED
INTRUSION POINT: EASTERN SUBNET – NODE 7-C
AUTHORIZED ACCESSOR: UNKNOWN
Elias narrowed his eyes. "Someone broke in, but didn't steal it. They wanted to wake it."
Riven's voice dropped to a whisper. "The Eclipsed Coeur hasn't pulsed in decades. Not since the Veil War."
The Eclipsed Coeur—the artifact at the heart of Echelon-01—wasn't an object. It was a sealed memory, a fragmented consciousness, and a living weapon. The last time it had been touched, the city of Seraphholde burned from the inside out. The entire event was wiped from public memory, hidden under layers of illusion and rewritten history.
And now it was… humming.
Riven led Elias down a narrow corridor branching from the vault into a containment room. The door—three layers of hex-steel, bone lattice, and runed crystal—unfolded like petals, opening into a cylindrical space filled with faint blue mist and sound-absorbing silence.
At the center floated the Eclipsed Coeur.
It looked like a heart—but not a human one. Forged of blackened crystal and mirrored obsidian, it pulsed once every few seconds, releasing a shimmer like ink in water. Inside, a tangle of golden veins glowed faintly, beating like clockwork.
Elias approached. His breath misted from the chamber's unnatural cold.
"It woke up five hours ago," Riven said quietly. "On its own. It called to someone."
"To who?"
Riven shook his head. "No signature. But there was… residue. From beyond the Rift."
That changed everything.
Elias stared at the heart. He felt it—an echo brushing the edges of his mind. It was faint, like a forgotten memory clawing its way back.
And in it, a name.
Valen.
His younger brother.
Dead fifteen years.
Or so he thought.
Suddenly, the walls pulsed.
A voice cut through the chamber like a static blade.
"You cannot hide him anymore, Elias."
Both men spun, eyes locked on the shimmering barrier surrounding the artifact.
The Eclipsed Coeur had… spoken.
The containment runes flickered.
Riven took a step back. "That's impossible. The soul-bond was severed. The heart should be inert."
But it wasn't.
Not anymore.
They exited the chamber in tense silence, ascending to Elias's private office on the 99th floor—an obsidian suite encased in panoramic glass, suspended above the skyline like a throne of stars.
The room was dimly lit, lined with floating data panels and leather-bound volumes of forgotten knowledge. A velvet chaise near the fireplace held a half-empty decanter of winterfire brandy. The scent of clove smoke lingered in the air, slow-burning from an incense altar sculpted into the image of an owl with a serpent's tongue.
Waiting for them was Mireille Caelum.
She stood near the interface hub, tablet in hand, blonde braid draped over one shoulder, strands of golden hair glowing softly in the light from the hovering panels. Her fitted gray jacket had gold filigree across the collar and cuffs, paired with jet-black trousers and soft leather boots. Her pale blue eyes were alert, calculating.
Not just an assistant. A sentinel.
"Vayne," she said, her voice clear, tinged with an Eastern Isles lilt. "Cross-referenced the server breach. The spike came from within the city—off-grid. Lower Spires. Abandoned vaults."
She handed him the tablet. "No direct access signature. But this came with it."
The screen played a flickering image: static, heat distortion… then a pulse. The Eclipsed Coeur, beating faintly in the dark.
"Someone sent that out?" Riven asked.
"A beacon," Mireille said. "Or bait."
Elias's eyes met hers for a beat too long.
"Well done," he said.
She didn't smile. Just nodded and turned back to the console, her movements precise. A soft trace of vanilla and sandalwood lingered as she passed.
Riven nudged him. "You really should pay her more."
"I already pay her more than three department heads," Elias muttered.
"She still works like she's proving something."
But Elias was no longer listening. He was staring at the image of the Eclipsed Coeur. And thinking of the shadows waiting below.
Mireille turned back. "Do you want me to prep the Phantom sled?"
"Yes. I'm heading down."
"Alone?"
He nodded. "If I'm not back by dawn, burn the Coeur."
And with that, Elias Vayne descended once more.
Not as a CEO.
But as a man born from war, wealth, and something far more dangerous.
Memory.