Qin had never seen the sky so still.
They had wandered east from the Sanctum of Echoes, following a path barely etched into the hills—more rumor than road. On the third day, they reached a forest that didn't breathe.
The trees here didn't sway. The leaves didn't rustle. Even the wind seemed afraid to intrude.
Cazriel said only one word when they arrived: "Fathervault."
Qin frowned. "What is it?"
"Not what," the vampire replied, eyes distant. "Who."
The Fathervault wasn't built. It was grown.
Stone like living bone spiraled upward in the shape of a spire wrapped in roots. Glyphs pulsed faintly on its surface—wards that had not dimmed in a thousand years.
"It's older than the vampire courts," Cazriel said, trailing a finger across the smooth wall. "Some say it was born before magic was named. If there's an answer to your nature, boy, it's here."
Lyra muttered, "Let's hope it's not buried behind more cryptic poems and blood-curdling illusions."
They entered the spire.
And the past answered.
The chamber was circular and low-ceilinged, carved entirely of quartz-veined obsidian. In its center stood a throne of no one — blank, waiting. Around it were twelve stone figures: carved statues cloaked in elemental forms. Fire. Ice. Wind. Ash. Blood. Bone.
Qin stepped toward the throne and paused. A strange pulse throbbed in his chest, like his heart had skipped its beat and never quite landed.
"Step forward," a voice boomed—not from the room, but from beneath it.
Lyra's claws twitched into existence.
Qin obeyed.
The floor beneath the throne split open, revealing a spiral of silver stone descending into silence.
He took the steps alone.
At the bottom, a new chamber opened—one unlike anything Qin had seen.
It wasn't dark.
It was memory.
A memory made of magic.
Images swirled around him: cities in the sky, rivers of molten gold, towers carved from obsidian taller than the sun. Creatures flew. Armies knelt. The sky bent.
And in the center of it all stood a figure: cloaked in white, eyes of fire and frost, arms outstretched in command of all three powers.
Wizard.
Werewolf.
Vampire.
Tribrid.
Then came the voice.
Soft. Ageless.
"You are not the first, child of ash and promise."
Qin turned. A figure stood within the swirling images—neither ghost nor god. A man, tall and hooded, but with a face carved of memory. Lines of sorrow, eyes of deep wisdom.
"I am Threnos," the voice said. "The first and only tribrid to walk the real plane."
Qin swallowed hard. "You… you lived?"
"For a time."
Threnos raised a hand, and a storm of images bloomed. Cities falling. Armies burned. The skies turned black.
"I was born of war and forged in rebellion. The council sought to split the bloodlines—because together, we were too powerful."
He turned to Qin.
"They were right to fear it."
Threnos showed Qin more.
How he had risen above the mortal lords, united the clans, ended the Beast War, and brought peace to the realm—for a year.
Then madness.
Then hunger.
Then collapse.
"No vessel was meant to carry all three bloodlines," Threnos said. "They do not align. They war within. I held balance through ritual and sacrifice. When one broke, the others followed."
"Why are you showing me this?" Qin asked, voice shaking.
"Because your mark is awakening. Because fate remembers you, even if you do not remember yourself."
Qin stepped back. "I didn't ask for this."
"No heir ever does."
Above ground, Lyra paced.
"You should've gone with him," she said to Cazriel.
The vampire shrugged. "He's facing himself. I wouldn't be welcome in that vision."
"You trust this place?"
"No," Cazriel said. "But I trust what it keeps buried."
She turned to him. "Do you think he's the one?"
Cazriel was silent for a long moment. Then: "I think he might be the only one left."
Below, Threnos turned back toward the vision.
"The blood remembers," he said.
A single ripple of power pulsed through the chamber.
Qin clutched his chest. His blood felt like it was boiling.
Three colors flickered in his veins—blue for magic, red for blood, silver for beast.
"Then why didn't I feel it before?" he gasped.
"Because the bindings are breaking," Threnos said. "The seal Umbhrax placed on you—it was not just a mark. It was a delay. A way to keep your blood from awakening."
Qin clenched his fists. "So he knew?"
"He feared."
The memory began to dissolve. Threnos stepped toward him.
"You must choose. No one can force the transformation. The first must be taken willingly—a bite by choice."
Qin breathed hard. "Which one first?"
"You already have wizardry. The second must be the beast. The third… will seek you."
Then, the chamber began to collapse. Not with ruin—but release.
Light poured from the walls.
"I'm not ready!" Qin shouted.
"No," Threnos said, smiling faintly. "But you're still alive. And that's enough—for now."
Qin woke up on the stone floor, gasping.
The stairway behind him glowed faintly.
He rose and climbed, slower than before.
When he reached the chamber again, Lyra turned to him immediately. "You okay?"
He nodded, swallowing thickly. "I saw… him. Threnos. The first tribrid."
Cazriel stiffened. "You spoke with him?"
"He was a memory. Or a ghost. Maybe both."
Lyra stepped closer. "What did he tell you?"
"That I have to make a choice. The bloodlines don't merge on their own. I have to… allow it. One bite at a time."
Her eyes narrowed. "And you believe him?"
He looked down at his hand. Lightning flickered between his fingers without effort.
"I don't think I have a choice."
That night, Qin sat by the fire.
He watched the flames and didn't speak for a long time.
Lyra joined him eventually, silent beside him.
Finally, he said, "Do you think it's wrong to want more power?"
She shook her head. "No. But I think it's dangerous to want it for the wrong reasons."
"I wanted to protect people," he said. "But now… I just want to survive what's coming."
"That's not weakness," Lyra said. "That's honesty."
He looked at her.
"I'll need your help," he said quietly. "When the time comes."
She nodded. "You'll have it."
From the shadows, Cazriel smiled faintly to himself.