The morning after the feast was rcifully quiet. I found the library’s sunlit balcony empty and slipped out with my Codex. I needed answers—new battles lood beyond Black Spire. Valmira’s prophecy echoed in my mind: the dormant Demon King’s spirit still stirred.
I opened the Codex to a blank page. Before my eyes, glowing runes scrawled themselves across the parchnt—a ssage I hadn’t summoned: "Seek the Altar of Echoes."
My pulse quickened. I rembered a ruined chapel beneath the Academy—legends said it once housed an ancient oracle. I closed the Codex and made my way through silent halls.
At the chapel’s entrance, I found Yuria practicing lightning drills alone. She skidded to a stop when she saw . "You look like you saw a ghost."
"I...need to find the Altar of Echoes," I said, voice unsteady. "Runes just led here."
Yuria’s eyes softened. "Want company?" she asked, shouldering her dagger.
I nodded. "Wouldn’t mind."
Together we slipped into the chapel’s dust‑laden interior. Moonlight filtered through broken stained glass, casting fractured colors on the floor. At its center stood a crumbling dais—marble carved with ancient symbols.
I approached and pressed my palm against the altar’s stone. A hush fell. Then, soft voices drifted through the chamber: echoes of past Architects, their triumphs and failures, their hopes stitched into the very walls.
Images flickered behind my eyelids: a demon king’s crown, a shattered realm, a human hand bearing a golden sigil. The visions burned in my mind—warnings and guidance intertwined.
I staggered back, breath racing. Yuria caught . "What did you see?"
I swallowed. "A choice: power to save or power to destroy. The Architect decides the world’s fate."
Yuria’s hand tightened on my arm. "Whatever you choose, I’ve got your back."
Her words grounded . The echoes faded, leaving only the weight of destiny—and the promise of friendship.
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