The entrance appeared where no entrance should have been.
Halfway down the deepest level of Draven Ridge, behind the throne chamber, a section of stone simply unfolded.
Not opened.
Not moved.
Unfolded.
Like reality itself was remembering a path it had forgotten.
Silver light spilled from the crack.
The throne pulsed.
Recognition.
Relief.
The Memory Vault had awakened.
Midnight stood at the threshold staring into darkness lined with silver crystal.
The air felt strange.
Heavy with memory.
Every breath carried echoes of lives long gone.
The First Queen's presence lingered here stronger than anywhere else.
Not alive.
Not a ghost.
A fingerprint left on existence.
The group stepped forward together.
Nobody wanted to separate.
Not anymore.
Not with the Hollow Silence huntin
