The darkness of the archive felt different now. It breathed. It listened. Kael stood before the Garden once more—its black roses slightly more open than before, their petals trembling as if whispering secrets he wasn't ready to hear.
But something was wrong.
One of the roses had bloomed unnaturally fast. Its edges were silvered, its center glowing faintly red. And there—etched into a single petal—was a name: "Nerea."
Kael stepped back. He knew that name. One of the heroes.
But before he could reach for the book, the chamber's air turned sharp. Cold. Heavy. Something had entered.
Kael turned. A figure stood at the edge of the chamber, cloaked in robes white as bone, wearing a mask that resembled a porcelain doll—blank and hollow-eyed. Around its neck hung a small silver charm shaped like a lock, and in its hand, a blade of obsidian light.
The intruder spoke with a voice like cracked glass. —"Kael Valen. An unregistered soul. Born without invocation. Named by no god." —"…Who are you?" —"A Silencer of the Pale Order. And you, anomaly, are forbidden."
The words echoed through the chamber, and the roses recoiled in unison. Kael didn't move. His body tensed, instincts sharpening. —"What is the Pale Order?" he asked. The masked figure took a single step forward. —"We erase names the world was not meant to remember." And then it lunged.
Kael barely dodged the first strike. The obsidian blade sliced through the stone floor like silk. He moved back, reaching for the book—but it floated out of reach, as if it, too, were afraid. His hand clenched.
If power comes from pain… He focused.
Suddenly, from beneath his feet, roots erupted—dark, thorned, and violent. They surged toward the attacker like a swarm, wrapping around its limbs, digging into fabric and flesh. But the Silencer moved like liquid. With a twist of its blade, the roots withered and fell apart. Blood—black and thin—dripped from one arm, but the figure didn't flinch.
—"You're awakening," it hissed. "Too soon." Kael's breathing was rough. His vision blurred for a second. The Garden pulsed behind him. He reached within—not to summon magic, but to accept the pain. The hunger. The death.
A voice echoed in his mind. Not his. "Name him. Or he will name you."
Kael raised a hand, and a new black rose bloomed behind the Silencer—fast, violent, opening in a burst of ash and shadow. The masked figure turned, startled. Kael whispered: —"You first."
The rose erupted. The Silencer's mask cracked. Its blade shattered. The figure let out a gasp as its body was dragged into the ground, swallowed by thorned roots.
Silence returned. Only the roses remained. And one new flower.
Kael walked over. A single word bloomed on its petals: "Unnamed."
He didn't smile. He didn't feel triumph. Only a weight settling deeper inside him. Because now, the Garden didn't just bloom. It defended him.