The voice was neither loud nor quiet.

  Neither human nor inhuman.

  Neither near nor far.

  And yet, it was here.

  "You should not have found this pce."

  Darius' fingers curled around his sword hilt. Ais's stance remained sharp, dagger gripped tight. The presence around them was different. Not like the Watchers. Not like the Inquisition. Not like the Thanatarchy itself.

  This one was not here to erase them.

  But it was not here to help, either.

  From the shadows of the ruined temple, a figure emerged. Darius stiffened. It was not flickering. Not shifting. Not like the faceless entities they had encountered before. It was solid.

  Real.

  It wore a cloak of darkened cloth, its face hidden beneath a hood. But the presence that bled from it was old. Older than the rewritten temple. Older than the whispers of the erased. Older than the war between reality and the Thanatarchy. Darius exhaled slowly. "Who are you?" The figure lifted its head slightly. And for the first time, Darius saw its eyes. Not void. Not hollow. Not like the eyes of the rewritten world. These eyes remembered. And that was far more terrifying.

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  Ais was the first to move.

  She stepped forward, her voice calm, measured. "You were waiting for us."

  The figure's expression did not change. "Not for you." Ais hesitated. "...Then for who?" The figure's gaze turned to Darius. And suddenly, the air around them shifted. Not with power. Not with weight. But with recognition. Darius' pulse quickened. This thing—this being— Knew him. Not as a person. Not as a name. But as something that should not be here.

  The figure's voice was quiet. "You were erased."

  Darius felt his blood turn to ice. Because it was not a question. It was a truth.

  And yet—he still existed.

  Ais's eyes flickered toward him. "Darius—" But the figure lifted a hand, silencing her without effort. Not through force. Not through magic. But through understanding. And that was worse. It turned back to Darius. "You are not supposed to remain." Darius clenched his fists. "Then why am I still here?"

  The figure tilted its head.

  And then—

  It spoke the words that shattered everything. "Because something is resisting the Thanatarchy."

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  Darius staggered. His breath caught. Ais inhaled sharply. "Impossible." The Thanatarchy was absolute. It did not fight. It did not struggle. It simply was.

  And yet, it had hesitated.

  And now, this being—this Guardian of the Erased—

  Knew why.

  Darius' voice was hoarse. "What is resisting?" The Guardian stared at him. "You are." The words struck like thunder. Ais swore under her breath. "That doesn't make sense—" The Guardian ignored her. It stepped forward. "Darius Vaelthorne." Darius' breath froze. His name. Spoken aloud. The Thanatarchy had tried to erase it.

  And yet, this being still knew it.

  Knew it as if it had never been lost.

  Darius swallowed hard. "How do you know my name?" The Guardian's voice was steady. "Because it is not gone."

  A silence stretched between them.

  A silence filled with something heavier than fear.

  Something neither of them wanted to name. Ais was the first to recover. She shook her head, her grip on her dagger loosening slightly. "The Thanatarchy erases completely. If Darius was supposed to be erased, then—" She stopped. Because she already knew the answer. Darius inhaled sharply.

  "They tried to erase me."

  The Guardian nodded.

  "But they failed."

  Another pause. Then, the Guardian turned its gaze toward the temple behind them. And Darius knew. This pce. This ruin. This rewritten lie of stone and history— It was tied to the answer. And whatever truth y beneath it— The Thanatarchy did not want him to find it.