Mira
Lucien didn’t sleep.
He hovered.
His breath wove glyphs into the air, curling around Mira’s dreams like mist.
She sat beside him, drawing the same symbols on her arm—only hers didn’t shimmer.
“You’re changing the archive,” she whispered.
Lucien turned, shadows tracing his cheekbones in unfamiliar angles.
“No. It’s changing me.”
She felt the Hollow stir beneath them.
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Lucien
Lucien stepped into the chamber barefoot.
He didn’t walk like someone returning.
He moved like someone being summoned.
Glyphs rose from the floor, reacting to him.
Not just his form—his vow signature.
“They’re reading me,” he said aloud.
“Who?” Mira asked.
He paused.
“The glyphs. The Hollow. Something else.”
The altar split. But this tim
