The door opened another inch.
The entire valley held its breath.
Nothing emerged.
No monster.
No army.
No cosmic horror.
Just darkness.
Ancient, endless darkness stretching beyond the tiny gap.
The throne beneath Draven Ridge continued roaring.
The panic rolling through the abyss felt wrong.
Midnight had felt the throne afraid before.
The Hollow Silence.
Azhrael.
The collapse of the Shore.
This was different.
This wasn't fear.
This was dread.
The kind reserved for old mistakes.
The kind reserved for consequences.
The distinction mattered.
The mountain shook again.
The silver memories continued flowing into the door.
One by one.
Thousands of years of history vanishing into the lock.
The gap widened.
Another inch.
Then another.
The symbols across the door illuminat
