Vale walked through the halls with his gaze fixed on the floor, his expression hollow and distant.

  In that moment, he was not sad.

  Nor was he happy.

  He felt nothing.

  It was as though the battle, the pain, and the terror had hollowed him out and left only an empty shell behind. His footsteps echoed softly against the metal flooring as he moved forward, barely aware of his surroundings.

  Yet his thoughts refused to be silent.

  His mind returned, again and again, to the gray-skinned woman Callum had carried from the battlefield.

  Something about her was wrong.

  It was not merely the absence of a signature, that alone was horrifying, but understandable. No, it was something else. Something subtle. Something that scratched at the back of his mind no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

  He had seen her before.

  Not her face, not in the way one recognizes a stranger from memory. It was deeper than that. More abstract. As if some part of him, buried beneath layers of loss and fractured recollection, knew her.

  Vale exhaled slowly through his nose.

  “I don’t get it…” he murmured to no one.

  The corridor stretched ahead of him. Only a dozen meters remained before he reached his room.

  Then,

  BOOM.

  Vale flinched.

  The sound came from ahead.

  He lifted his head just as another violent impact shook the hall, metal screaming under the force. His eyes widened slightly as the door to his room was blasted off its hinges and sent hurtling down the corridor. It slammed into reinforced glass at the far end, spiderweb cracks spreading across the surface on impact.

  From the wreckage emerged a pale wyvern.

  Ember.

  The creature burst into the hallway, wings half-spread, ember-colored eyes darting wildly as it scanned the area with frantic urgency. Its body was tense, ready to tear apart anything it perceived as a threat.

  Then it saw him.

  Ember froze.

  Vale froze.

  For a heartbeat, they simply stared at one another, wide-eyed, stunned.

  Then Ember let out a sharp cry and lunged forward.

  “Ember!”

  The wyvern collided with Vale at full force, knocking him flat onto his back. It nudged his face repeatedly, snout pressing against his cheek and forehead, tail thrashing anxiously behind it.

  Vale let out a quiet, breathless chuckle.

  A moment later, his ravens arrived in a flurry of black wings, landing on his chest and shoulders, pecking lightly at his face and cawing loudly in agitation and relief.

  “Alright… alright,” Vale muttered softly.

  He raised a hand and rested it against Ember’s neck, stroking the smooth scales. The wyvern shuddered and let out a low, rumbling sound, something like a purr, though far deeper and more resonant than any feline could produce.

  “You really tried to break me out, didn’t you?” Vale said quietly, a faint, somber smile tugging at his lips.

  Ember closed its eyes, leaning into his touch.

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  Vale slowly sat up, the ravens settling onto his shoulders as if reclaiming their rightful place. He pushed himself to his feet, steady this time.

  “I’m alright,” he said, though the words felt fragile.

  After a few more moments, he stepped into what remained of his room. There was no door left to close, only twisted metal and debris where it once stood.

  Vale sat down on the edge of his bed.

  The room was silent.

  Then Chrome emerged from the monitor, its metallic form flickering briefly before stabilizing. The machine studied Vale in silence, sensors adjusting, processing.

  Several minutes passed before it spoke.

  “Are you alright?”

  Vale looked up.

  His expression twisted, uncertain, conflicted. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then finally answered.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Chrome paused.

  “What happened?”

  Vale lowered his gaze to the floor. His hands clenched slowly into fists, knuckles whitening as frustration and something darker began to seep through the numbness.

  “I should have died,” he said at last.

  Silence followed.

  Hours passed.

  Vale remained seated, unmoving, staring at the floor as if answers might appear there if he looked long enough. Guards passed by his ruined doorway from time to time, glancing in with quiet concern before moving on. They understood. In his condition, solitude was mercy.

  Yet his mind would not rest.

  The gray woman returned to his thoughts.

  The corrupted knight.

  Something about her refused to let go.

  And then there was another thought, another absence.

  Mirage.

  The wolf was gone.

  No trace. No presence. Nothing.

  Vale frowned, memory stirring. He remembered the moment he and Mirage had healed Chimera together, the brief instant when they had peered into her memories.

  His breath caught.

  “Could I do it again…?” he whispered.

  His gaze sharpened.

  “…Without him?”

  He remained still for a long time after that.

  Then, finally, Vale stood.

  He left his room without a word, stepping into the darkened halls. Ember followed close behind, his ravens gliding silently overhead. Chrome stayed behind, watching the empty room.

  Vale walked aimlessly at first, his thoughts tangled and heavy. He bit his lip, frustration building with every step, until.

  He stopped.

  A door stood before him.

  Unremarkable. Unlabeled.

  And yet, something about it pulled at him.

  Vale stared at it, motionless.

  After a long moment, he raised his arm and scanned it against the panel. The door unlocked with a muted hiss and slid open.

  The room beyond was vast and cold.

  Iron dissection tables filled the space, dozens of them, arranged in orderly rows. The air was sterile, heavy with the scent of metal and something far more unsettling.

  Vale stepped inside.

  His eyes were drawn immediately to one table.

  It stood slightly apart from the others.

  A single white blanket lay draped over the form upon it.

  Vale’s breath grew shallow.

  Slowly, he approached. His hand reached out, fingers brushing the edge of the cloth. He hesitated, heart pounding in his chest.

  Then he clenched his hand and pulled the blanket back.

  His eyes widened.

  Beneath it lay the corrupted knight.

  Her corpse.

  Gray skin unmarred now by battle, black hair spilling messily across the cold surface of the table. Her eyes were closed, her expression peaceful in a way that felt deeply wrong.

  Vale stared at her, frozen.

  The woman who had haunted his thoughts, who felt impossibly familiar, lay silent and lifeless before him.

  Vale stood in silence, staring down at her lifeless body.

  His eyes trembled, unable to settle, as though refusing to accept what lay before him.

  Ember reacted first.

  The pale wyvern lowered its head and growled low in its throat, a deep, instinctive warning rumbling through its chest. Its ember-colored eyes never left the corpse. The ravens followed suit, perching at a distance, feathers bristling, wings half-spread. None of them dared to draw closer.

  Even in death, the presence of the powerful blight lingered.

  Vale swallowed hard.

  His breathing was uneven, shallow at first, then gradually slowing as he forced himself to steady it. He stood there for several moments longer, simply looking at her, at the serene stillness of a woman who had once shaken mountains and bent fate itself.

  And then the thought returned.

  Unwelcome. Dangerous.

  'What if…'

  His fingers twitched at his side.

  What if he could peer into her memories?

  The idea settled in his mind, heavy but persistent. If he could see what she had seen, feel what she had felt, perhaps he would understand. Perhaps he would finally know why her presence gnawed at something deep within him, why she felt so achingly familiar.

  Vale didn’t know if it was possible.

  He didn’t know if it was wise.

  But curiosity, once ignited, refused to be silenced.

  Slowly, almost reverently, Vale extended his hand.

  Ember let out a sharp hiss, wings shifting uneasily, but Vale did not stop.

  His fingers brushed against her bare hand.

  It was cold.

  Too cold.

  Vale flinched, but did not pull away.

  He closed his eyes and searched his memory, thinking back to that moment long ago with Mirage. He tried to recall the sensation, the instinctive pull, the way the world had seemed to _open_ beneath his will rather than resist it.

  He breathed in.

  And out.

  Again.

  Time stretched as he stood there, eyes shut tight, concentrating with everything he had.

  Then he opened them.

  They were no longer pale white.

  An ethereal blue light filled his gaze, soft, luminous, and impossibly deep. The same shade Mirage’s eyes had once held.

  Vale did not notice.

  He could not.

  His awareness was already turning inward.

  He released a shaky breath and closed his eyes once more, fully committing himself to the act. His focus sharpened, reaching outward, downward, toward the silent remnants of the woman before him.

  Preparing to enter her memories.

  The moment his consciousness crossed the threshold.

  Everything went dark.

  Just like before.