Nobody moved. All eyes were fixed on the girl standing before them.

Yamina Ward stood utterly still. Eerily lifeless, in a way that felt almost staged — like a prop left behind on an abandoned set. Her golden eyes glowed, unblinking. Yet she seemed to be breathing.

The seconds stretched. No more changes. There really was no further phantom play of identities.

Scarlett narrowed her eyes.

This wasn't random, was it? It had to have settled on Yamina for a reason. That had to mean something.

Arnaud was the first to break the silence.

"Ward."

That was all he said.

Yamina didn't react. She didn't even seem to register the word. She just stared forward, fixed and vacant.

Scarlett stepped closer, her boots brushing faintly against the stone — too soft, yet somehow echoing over the background chorus of reflected voices. She halted a short distance away, eyes locked on those gold-lit irises.

What connection did this…thing have to Yamina? What was it, really? Something like a Memory? Of either the past or future?

Scarlett's fingers twitched at her side.

A part of her wondered what would happen if she stepped even closer. If she touched it. But her instincts screamed against it. Not danger in the usual sense, but the kind of unknown that didn't even have an inkling of what might happen. Maybe that was what Ustrum had done. Maybe he'd tried to force something. And maybe that was why he'd ended up like that.

Another part of her considered turning around. Leaving. This wasn't the Tribute of Dominion. It didn't seem to lead towards it either. If anything, it felt like a dead end. A diversion that had pulled them off course. Retreating might be the wise choice.

But that would mean facing the hall again — the corridor where she had felt that crushing pressure, unlike anything before. She had barely survived once. She wasn't sure she could do it again.

And…there was something else keeping her here.

"You think it's…alive?" Kat asked quietly.

"Might depend on your definition," Rosa murmured. "…It's breathing at least, isn't it?"

"It's not," Fynn said. His tone was grave, harder than usual. "This is not alive."

Scarlett's gaze shifted to him, watching the tension in his stance, the continued readiness in his eyes. As though he both feared and longed to strike.

"It feels like it's watching us," Allyssa whispered, vial tight in her grip.

Scarlett shook her head slightly. "…No. It is not watching us."

"Then what is it doing?" Allyssa pressed.

Scarlett offered no answer. Because she didn't know yet.

Something pulled her attention. She looked down at her wrist.

The Orrery. It had stopped moving. Frozen completely. Its previously spinning pointers were aimed in disagreeing directions, as if seized mid-motion.

…When had that happened? Was it the moment they entered the chamber? Or when Yamina appeared?

Her eyes rose again to the girl, searching.

Then she looked higher, to the ceiling's restless runes, and around to the reflections of companions, trapped in the remnants of memory and half-finished scenes.

She…wasn't really sure what to do from here.

Her frown deepened as her gaze returned to Yamina.

Itris' words surfaced in her mind. The goddess' request for Scarlett to go deeper into Beld Thylelion, to seek out a 'remnant of Fate's fracture'.

…Could this be it? Was this the 'fracture' of Fate? What did it mean for Fate to fracture?

Her thoughts drifted—almost involuntarily—to The Gentleman.

The Gentleman. And the favour he'd asked.

She had no reason to believe any of this was connected to his request. He had never specified what he wanted, after all. And she had no obligation to unravel his cryptic riddles.

And yet…

It was hard not to wonder. Hard not to question what he truly intended. What motives lingered behind that effortless calm. What he had known and what he had planned when he asked for that favour.

And how that might relate to the strange things they'd seen here in Beld Thylelion.

Scarlett reached into her [Pouch of Holding] and drew out a large agate. The stone's swirling core glimmered faint green and grey, dulled nearly to translucence. A low hum emanated from it, slow and steady but at the same time distant, like a memory pressed against the edges of hearing.

[Dimming Agate of Reflections (Unique)] {A dwindling key to the spaces between moments, born of a pact between a wandering observer and a mage with fading purpose. Its burdens, growing heavier with each passing moment, have at last been released}

Why had The Gentleman urged her to keep this?

Her thumb traced its glassy surface. Unbidden memories rose — quiet flickers of Freymeadow. Training in the village square. The endless exhaustion of Arlene's teachings. And the woman's voice in their final conversation.

She had considered that The Gentleman might want her to keep this for sentimental reasons. That he thought it might matter to her. It wasn't an unreasonable conclusion, but…it was a simple one. And she had never believed that man to be simple.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Besides, this agate represented the suffering fate Arlene had chosen for herself, not the things Scarlett would like to remember.

As she studied it, she thought she caught a flicker of movement. She raised her gaze, and for an instant, she thought she saw something. She had no idea what. Just something. When she looked again, Yamina stood as before, unchanged, as if Scarlett had imagined it.

Rather, she must have imagined it, something told her…

That was when Yamina's eyes met hers.

Scarlett froze.

She looked into those golden eyes, into depths holding things she couldn't describe or place…

A chill crept down her spine, slow and deliberate, as though her body were reacting to something her mind hadn't yet caught up with.

She wasn't sure how long she stood like that, motionless. Couldn't tell how long she stared.

A hand touched her shoulder.

She turned sharply. Rosa stood there, concern narrowing her eyes. The others hovered close, watching.

"Scarlett," Rosa said softly. "…This is getting worrying. First through the hall here, and now this. Whatever this place is doing to you, isn't there something we can do?"

Scarlett regarded her in silence, then glanced at the others. Fynn's scowl was deep. Arnaud looked carefully between her and Yamina.

She turned back towards Yamina. The girl's gaze was…no longer on her. Just staring ahead again in that flat and detached manner. Had she even looked at Scarlett at all, or had that been in her head?

…No. She had. Scarlett was certain of it.

And in that gaze, she had sensed something. Not with logic, not even quite with instinct — something beyond both. As for what she'd, that was even harder to name. A pressure, one might say. A resonance, as if some invisible thread had momentarily tightened between them.

This place…this chamber…

This was the heart of Beld Thylelion. The actual, near-literal heart.

Beld Thylelion might have been constructed to hold the Tribute of Dominion, and that purpose had guided much of her theories and her attempts to map its logic. But this room—this strange, unexplainable place—was not incidental. It was part of the core design.

In fact, in a way, it might be Beld Thylelion.

An ancient, sprawling, utterly nonsensical construct. Rooms within rooms, layers upon layers of forgotten magic and abandoned meaning. Chambers, vaults, circuits, runes piled atop one another, almost absurd in scale. And yet for all of it, the place seemed to serve little practical function beyond standing as a fortress against intrusion, a maze meant to repel.

Scarlett had been trying to understand why Thainnith would build it like that. Beyond simply waving it away as game logic.

Now, she understood. Understood that all of it fed back to this.

She could feel it. It was as if her senses had opened farther than before. The ambient energies here were bending inward. Invisible flows of power, the pattern-magic beneath the stone, all curving towards this space.

Calling this the eye of the storm didn't suffice.

How much power was truly compressed within these walls? The force of an entire structure—an edifice that had been wrought by a demi-god—funnelled into a single nexus.

Could it be that Ustrum hadn't even aimed for the Tribute at all? That this was his true target? That he knew what lay here?

A geas had once hidden Beld Thylelion. Erased its very existence from the realms until now. And that geas…she could feel its traces. The echoes still pulsed faintly here. It had originated from this chamber.

What if the geas hadn't actually been meant to obscure the Tribute's location, but to detach this place from the outside world?

"Scarlett!"

Rosa's voice snapped her back again.

Without realising, she had drifted. Her thoughts had started spiralling. Her focus vanished the moment she looked into Yamina's eyes. She'd even forgotten to respond to Rosa's concerns.

She stood silent for several more seconds.

"…My apologies," she finally said, keeping her voice even. "It is simply that…" Her eyes did not leave Yamina Ward's unmoving form. "…This is deeply frustrating."

Because whatever else this place might have revealed, one truth cut deeper than the rest.

She wasn't immune to Fate.

She could tell. Her presence here, ending up in this chamber…it hadn't been by chance. She had thought her own agency had carried her — her decisions, planned or improvised. But now she wasn't so sure.

Because in Yamina's eyes, she had seen it: a glimpse of the force that had guided her.

When she'd manipulated the platform that brought them to this level…how much of that had truly been her? Had her thoughts been nudged? Her choices steered? How far did this force reach?

Had she simply been guided here, gently but inexorably? A pause in the lift's flow here. A convenient flaw in its interface there. Was Fate nudging her all along, and she had simply failed to notice the strings?

Had she been too arrogant in assuming she was completely free of its influence?

She couldn't help but recall Thainnith's fragment in the Veiled Library on the Rising Isle. He had claimed the Anomalous could defy Fate. But even then, it was still within Fate's boundaries. Was this what that meant? Would she have ended up here no matter her path? Was the fabric of Fate within Beld Thylelion so tightly woven, so absolute, that even she—despite everything—could not unravel it?

She couldn't say. She still didn't have a clear picture of how Fate actually manifested. Only vague notions and descriptions.

Regardless, this realisation was unsettling. Deeply. But above all, it left her wondering why Fate dragged her to this chamber in particular.

What was the purpose behind it?

She glanced to the side.

Could she still fight it? Could she resist? She refused to believe it was impossible. She could try to leave after all, perhaps. Even if it was dangerous, if she gave the signal, the others could carry her. Force their way back through the complex, ride the lift to the proper floor, and focus solely on the Tribute of Dominion.

…But she knew that wasn't an option.

This chamber was dangerous. Not only to them.

To everyone.

Scarlett closed her eyes. Focused. Reached inward — to that thin, intangible thread of connection binding her to the stolen Anomalous One's power. Usually, any attempt to seriously manifest it in the Material Realm failed. But here…

Here, it stirred.

Through it, she tried to see the Fate that coiled in this chamber. Not metaphorically. Not symbolically. And certainly not vaguely. She wanted to see it. Really see it.

When she opened her eyes, the world hadn't changed — yet everything had shifted. There was no light. No colour. Only pressure. Vast, formless, and converging. It wrapped the room like invisible wire, tightening with every breath.

This place was a reservoir. An overload. A ticking construct.

And whoever had created it had been playing with fire.

Maybe the geas that had veiled Beld Thylelion was meant to buy time. Delay what was building here. She couldn't be sure. But she did know this: the force gathering here, drawn in from the entire sprawl of Beld Thylelion and beyond, would overflow. And when it did…

She suspected the consequences might be as catastrophic as if the Anomalous One were to be unsealed.

It was funny. Ironic, almost. She was fairly certain this chamber shouldn't exist. That it was in itself actually a divergence from Fate. Something absent from the game. Yet nowhere had ever felt more bound by Fate than here.

How did that even work?

She let the Anomalous One's power fade, her perception settling back to something more normal. She looked down at the agate one last time before sliding it back into the [Pouch of Holding].

And that was when she noticed.

The noise was gone.

The chamber had been full of voices and overlapping conversations from the reflections. A constant bed of sound.

Now, actual complete silence had fallen. Dropped like a blade.

Scarlett's head lifted slowly.

All around, the reflections had turned. Dozens of shimmering figures stared in her direction. As if the chamber had heard her intent. No — anticipated it.

She looked back at her companions, and her breath caught.

None of them were moving.

Rosa was mid-motion, one hand on her klert, the other reaching for Scarlett, mouth open in half-formed warning. Kat stood beside her, hands gripping the hilt of her claymore, a fiery spell caught just before completion. Allyssa and Shin were shifting towards the flanks, crossbow and shield raised. Arnaud's blade gleamed silver, arcs of light sparking across it as he stared at Yamina. And Fynn—

Fynn was airborne, claws out, suspended mid-leap like a statue carved from motion itself.

Each of them was caught. Like their individual clocks had been stopped.

Behind her, she heard it.

A breath. Soft and deliberate.

She turned.

Yamina was watching her again. Their eyes met. Something shifted.

The air turned sharp, rippling between them. Scarlett moved. Her hand snapped out, fingers glowing faintly white and grey with the Anomalous One's power, and she pulled.

Reality hiccuped.

Rosa gasped, as if surfacing from deep water. Kat stumbled with a curse. Fynn slammed down beside Scarlett, catching himself with one clawed hand. The others jolted free as well.

"Combat!" Scarlett called, even as pain lanced through her skull.

Yamina was gone.

But all around them, the reflections closed in.

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