The air still felt thinner after leaving the underground throne.
Fex hadn't followed.
He simply pointed Root toward an old elevator shaft lined with veins of Crownlight—and said, "If you're smart, you'll pretend you saw nothing. But if you're bold? Ask your summon what he's forgotten."
So Root walked.
Upward. Silent.
Veyr floated beside him. No jokes. No hums. Just that steady glow pulsing from the sigil on his chest like a second heartbeat.
"What did I see?" Root asked finally.
"Fragments," Veyr replied.
"Of what?"
"Of me. Before you."
Root turned sharply.
"You've done this before."
Veyr's mask didn't shift. But the air around him tightened.
"I don't remember it cleanly," he said. "Null-type summons don't store history the way others do. I exist across potentialities. But some memories… echo. And when you sat on that throne, the system tried to rebuild a connection it erased."
"So I'm not the first."
"You're the first to make it this far without unraveling."
Root clenched his fists.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Veyr tilted his head.
"Would it have changed anything? You're here. I'm bound. And the system is starting to notice cracks it can't patch."
They stepped into the Academy's lower forum—a quiet, unused atrium ringed with empty practice halls.
Except it wasn't empty today.
Standing in the center was Lyra.
And her summon.
Root blinked.
He'd seen her summon once before—briefly during the early trials. A blur of wings and static.
Now it stood upright.
A tall, rabbit-like creature with fairy wings crackling with electricity and claws wrapped in lightning threads. It bowed gently as Root approached, its gaze wary.
"You're not hiding anymore," Lyra said, arms crossed. "Good. I was tired of covering for you."
"You were covering for me?"
"Root," she said, stepping forward, "half the instructors think you've been absorbed. The other half think you're testing the system from the inside. And the Council has issued a formal observation order on your summon."
"Let them watch," Root muttered. "I'm done crawling."
Lyra gave him a look—half exasperated, half proud.
"Well, that's good. Because your next evaluation is public. The Forum. Live combat trial. Two days."
"And if I don't go?"
"Then they'll come for you. Not with trials. With resets."
Root didn't flinch.
"Let them try."
Veyr chuckled softly.
"Ooooh. I love it when you get dramatic."
"Root," Lyra said, quieter now. "I saw what you did. At the gate. With the Rift."
"Then you know why I'm not turning back."
"I also know you're glitching."
Root's expression darkened.
"Say that again?"
She stepped closer, holding up her interface. On the screen, a diagram pulsed.
His sigil.
But distorted. Broken in ways it shouldn't be.
"You're leaking summon code. Your bond is overwriting your biology. You're turning into something the system doesn't categorize. That's not evolution. It's corruption."
Root stared at it.
And for the first time… Veyr didn't make a sound.
The screen didn't lie.
His Hollow Sigil pulsed with distortion. It flickered between clean geometry and broken patterns—like someone had scrambled the rune mid-cast and tried to press undo.
Root felt it now.
In his hands.
In his breath.
There was a delay—fractional, but there. Like his body was lagging behind his mind.
"How long has it been happening?" Lyra asked.
"I don't know," Root muttered. "Maybe since the Rift. Maybe earlier."
"Why didn't the system warn you?"
Veyr floated a little higher.
"Because I am the system now," he said with a grin too wide for his mask. "And I don't like tattling."
"Not helping," Root growled.
Veyr's glow dimmed slightly. Not ashamed. Just aware.
"This kind of bleed only happens when the boundary between summoner and summon weakens," he said. "Usually, that means one's dying. Or… merging."
Root stepped back.
"Merging?"
"Don't act surprised," Veyr replied gently. "You already knew I wasn't just a summon. Null-types don't bond—they overwrite. I can keep it stable, but the moment you stop pushing back…"
He trailed off.
"What happens?" Root pressed.
"Then there's no 'Root' left to ask the question."
Silence.
Lyra didn't move. Her summon lowered its ears, picking up the tension like static on glass.
"You need to stabilize the bond," she said. "There are Summonforges in the Depth Quarters. Old tech. They can rewrite system anchors."
"And if I don't?"
"Then the next time you summon Veyr… he might be you."
Root turned away, breathing shallow.
And for the first time since the Forum, he wasn't sure who the enemy was.
The Crown.
The system.
Veyr.
Or himself.
The Depth Quarters weren't on any official map.
Even Lyra hadn't been there—just heard whispers from upper-year students who got too curious and too quiet.
But Root knew where to go.
Not because of guidance.
But because the sigil in his chest pulled him like a compass needle breaking protocol.
The lower halls of the Academy twisted into tight corridors. Pipes ran along the walls like veins. Static buzzed from overhead lights, and the floors began to slope downward—not built that way, just sinking.
"System doesn't monitor past this point," Veyr said.
"Why?"
"Because even it knows what it left behind."
They stopped in front of a metal door. Old. Sealed with analog locks and a faded inscription burned into the frame:
SUMMONFORGE - 03
Use of facility without Oversight results in immediate banishment or termination.
Root pressed his hand to the sigil lock.
It opened.
Dust and data met him in a single breath. The room inside was round, lined with broken capsules and glowing interfaces still pulsing faintly. At the center was a hollow basin—shaped like a cradle, but large enough to hold a person.
"What is this place?" Root asked quietly.
Veyr hovered behind him, slower than usual.
"It's not just for summons. It's where they used to test new bond types. Before the Crown regulated everything. Null, Glitchblood, Echobinds… All failed protocols buried down here."
Root ran his fingers along the edge of the basin.
There was no power.
But there was memory.
The sigil on his hand flickered once—and the forge lit up like it recognized him.
"It's keyed to your line," Veyr said. "That means you're not the first one it bound to."
Root stepped in.
The basin adjusted, tightening around him, reading vitals, projecting interfaces that flickered between ancient glyphs and modern UI.
"What do I do?" Root asked.
"Tell it the truth," Veyr whispered. "Tell it who you are."
Root closed his eyes.
"I'm Root. Hollowborn. Bonded to Veyr, Null-type summon. Experiencing bleed, glitch-type distortion. Requesting stabilization."
Silence.
Then…
ACCESS GRANTED.
RECALLING ROOT PROTOCOL: VEYR.001
A flood of images hit Root's mind.
Not visions.
Memories.
Not his. Veyr's.
But this time—Veyr didn't stop them.
He let Root see.
A white room.
A boy with silver eyes.
A code written in blood, not language.
And a phrase spoken over a lifeless body:
"We'll try again. They never remember the first few times."
Root gasped.
Veyr hovered closer, mask unreadable.
"You wanted to know the truth?"
"What… was that?"
"That," Veyr said slowly, "was the first time you summoned me."