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Chapter 79 – The Candle and the Void
Sometimes, when memory settles, it doesn't bring peace.
It brings a name.
And sometimes that name opens doors better left closed.
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The Codex had not quieted since the Mirror's fall.
It hummed. Not with mechanical rhythm, but with the pulse of something alive. As though memory had gained a heartbeat.
Erevan sat in the Hollowpoint's Archive Annex, the Codex spread before him on a stone-plated reading dais. Yuren sat nearby, scanning symbols. The others had withdrawn after the Mirrorwake Event—either to rest, to grieve, or to meditate.
None of them spoke. Not until the Codex turned itself.
One page curled forward without Erevan's touch. Its fibers shimmered with silverlight. The ink glowed in a hue not used in the other records—violet-black, like mourning under moonlight.
Yuren sat up. "That's new."
Erevan stared at the page. The heading was written in a different hand. Female. Sharp, but uncertain.
> Subject Archive – Solvane
"The Candle and the Void."
His heart clenched.
Of all the rebels, Solvane had been the most difficult to parse. She wasn't like Yuren, built on logic, or like Veyra, forged in compassion. Solvane was a paradox: cruel and kind. Vengeful, yet visionary. When Erevan had first rebelled, it was her idea to weaponize memory. And it was her who died to encode the Codex into her own ashes.
Yuren exhaled. "Are you ready to see this?"
"No," Erevan murmured. "But that's never stopped me."
He touched the page.
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[Memory Reconstruction: SOLVANE]
[Mode: Visceral Playback | Class: Requiem]
[Begin.]
The chamber twisted.
Ink bled outward, and reality folded—until Erevan found himself standing on the edge of a spiraling voidscape. Stars flickered above. Below, a fracture in space like a candle flame burning through the dark.
Solvane stood at the center of the ledge. Not the ash-bound vision he remembered—but younger. Alive. Battle-worn, but standing tall. Her eyes shimmered with something between defiance and exhaustion.
She didn't turn when she spoke.
"You never asked why I chose this place to die."
Erevan stepped forward, echo-form stabilizing. "Why now?"
"Because this," she said, gesturing to the chasm, "is the first place the Tower dreamed. Before it became real. Before the code. Before the chains. This void was its first thought. A 'what if.' A seed."
She smiled faintly. "I wanted to kill it where it was born. Not physically. Narratively."
Erevan exhaled. "So you became the Codex."
"I broke myself into the Codex," she corrected, voice soft. "Do you know what that feels like? To grind your soul into glyphs? To erase your own future for a story no one might read?"
"I'm trying to," Erevan said.
Solvane turned at last. Her face was sharp, beautiful in a tragic way. Eyes that held too many secrets.
"I loved you, you know," she said gently. "Not like lovers. Like… gravity. You were the star I fell toward. And in the end, I chose to fall alone."
Erevan's throat tightened.
"You could've told me."
"No," she said. "You had to hate me to remember me. That's how the Codex works. It binds through pain."
A pause.
"I left something for you, Erevan. A flame."
She held up a tiny object—a waxless candle, still burning. But its fire didn't flicker. It whispered.
> "One truth. One rebel. One chance."
"What is it?" he asked.
"A memory. A key. Burn it at the Woundspire, and the next Echo-Rebel will awaken."
Erevan frowned. "Another one of us?"
"Not quite," she said. "He was never part of the original rebellion. He tried to stop us. But time has made traitors into allies."
"Who?"
Solvane leaned in close.
"His name was Archivist Callen. And he remembers everything the Tower tried to hide."
Before Erevan could ask more, her form began to unravel. Violet-black threads spun upward, weaving back into the Codex.
Her last words echoed:
> "A candle only means something in the dark. Don't let the light blind you."
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Return
Erevan blinked as the vision faded.
Yuren was still at his side, though his expression had changed.
"You saw her," he said.
Erevan nodded. "She gave me a name. A key. Another rebel."
"Or an enemy," Yuren added carefully.
"Yes," Erevan said. "Or both."
The Codex glowed with a new glyph on its front cover. A single symbol that translated, roughly, to "spark."
Outside, Hollowpoint's defense grid flickered. Something was shifting in the wider multiverse.
The Codex had done more than share memory.
It had sent a signal.
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Meanwhile: Far Beyond the Known Chains
A forgotten node stirred. Its walls were lined with endless shelves—books without titles, memories bottled in glass, truths drowned in ink.
And at its center, a man awoke.
He wore the robes of a Tower scholar, though age and silence had worn them into faded relics. His eyes opened slowly—one flesh, one glass.
He inhaled sharply.
"I… remember," he whispered.
His name was Callen.
Once Archivist of the Chain.
Now, flame-bearer of the void.
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Author's Note:
Chapter 79 – The Candle and the Void – dives into Solvane's final memory and sets the stage for the awakening of the next key player: Callen. A man who once silenced rebels… and now might become one.
10 power stones = 2 chapter drops.
1 review = 1 bonus chapter.
Let's keep memory burning bright.
– Dorian Blackthorn
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