The sound of laughter grew louder with every heartbeat.
Not a joyful laugh.
Not even the mocking kind.
It was hollow, broken — like something that had forgotten how to sound human.
Finn and I exchanged a grim look.
Weapons ready, we pressed onward, leaving behind the shattered remains of the Revenant's prison.
The corridor ahead twisted downward, the stone beneath our feet cracked and uneven.
Every step stirred ancient dust and the faint, cloying scent of decay.
The walls were different here — no longer carved with glorious murals or noble oaths.
Instead, crude, clawed symbols defaced the stone.
Warnings.
Or perhaps curses.
Finn muttered under his breath, "This place is wrong. Feels like the Sanctum itself is bleeding."
He wasn't wrong.
The air grew colder, heavier.
It pressed against my chest, each breath a struggle.
My relic-sword's light dimmed, flickering uncertainly.
At the end of the hall, we found the source of the laughter.
A mirror.
It stood alone in an alcove, framed in tarnished silver, cracked across its surface.
Reflected within it was not our own images — but a hundred broken faces.
Wardens.
Old. Young. Male. Female.
Their eyes were empty hollows, and their mouths were frozen mid-scream or twisted into silent laughter.
I stepped closer, compelled.
The closer I got, the louder the whispering became — a thousand voices speaking at once, too fast to understand.
Finn grabbed my shoulder.
"Don't," he said, voice tight.
I shook him off gently.
This was something I had to face.
As I stood before the mirror, one of the faces shifted.
It was me.
But not me.
This Caelan wore no armor, bore no relics.
His eyes were hollow, his face gaunt.
And he smiled.
A voice, soft as silk, hissed from the mirror:
"You are already one of us."
I clenched my fists.
"No," I growled.
"I am not."
The mirror trembled, cracks spiderwebbing further.
Behind me, Finn readied his crossbow, aiming at the glass.
"Say the word, and I'll smash it," he said.
I hesitated.
There was something here.
Not just malice.
A warning.
I placed my hand gently against the mirror.
It was cold.
Colder than death.
The reflection of myself leaned closer, whispering:
"They will betray you. They always do."
I gritted my teeth.
"I choose my own path."
The mirror shuddered violently.
The images within it screamed — not words, but pure rage and sorrow.
Before Finn could fire, I summoned the Gauntlet's power, channeling pure oath-light into the mirror.
The glass erupted in a blaze of white fire.
Fragments flew, dissolving before they touched the ground.
The voices died with a final, echoing wail.
Silence returned.
Finn lowered his crossbow, exhaling shakily.
"Remind me never to look into cursed mirrors again."
I allowed myself a small, grim smile.
As we turned to leave, something glittered where the mirror had stood.
A shard.
Unlike the broken glass, it shimmered with pure, steady light.
I picked it up carefully.
The moment I touched it, images flooded my mind — glimpses of ancient Wardens, battles long forgotten, and a towering black spire rising against a crimson sky.
A memory fragment.
A piece of history preserved within relic-light.
It pulsed once, then settled, embedding itself into my Gauntlet like a star joining a constellation.
The Gauntlet responded immediately, the veins of light across it strengthening, pulsing with renewed energy.
A new oath unlocked.
Oath of Memory: Bearer shall witness the forgotten, and shield the truth from corruption.
Finn whistled low.
"That looks important."
I nodded, my heart pounding.
It was important.
More than I could yet understand.
But as I tucked the shard safely away, the ground beneath us trembled.
Not the small, nervous shudders from before.
This was different.
This was the earth groaning in pain.
Cracks split the floor, and from the darkness below, a deep, resonant roar rose — not a beast, not a Revenant.
Something older.
Something angrier.
The Sanctum was awakening.
And it was not pleased.
I met Finn's wide eyes.
"We need to move. Now."
We sprinted down the collapsing corridor, the laughter from the mirror chamber still echoing faintly behind us, as if mocking our every desperate step.
Ahead, faint light gleamed — not relic-light, but natural sunlight.
An exit.
Or another trap.
We had no choice.
With the ground collapsing behind us, we charged forward into the unknown.