32. Archives of Truth
Archives of Truth
Their rippled with glowing patterns that pulsed in rhythm with one another—almost like a silent language passing between them. The Archive chamber seemed to contract around us, the darkness below pulling at our feet, the weight of the ocean pressing down from above.
"Who will go first?" the leader asked, its voice reverberating through water and bone alike.
Shit. Panic surged through our twin bond, Thatcher's thoughts crashing into mine.
We’ll figure something out. My own fear matched his, though I fought to keep it contained.
The siren glided forward, its movements unnaturally fluid. "Place your keys in the receptacles. Speak your hidden shame. The path will open, but only truth will grant you passage." Its mouth curved in what might have been a smile, revealing jagged teeth. "And we will know if you lie."
"I'll go first," Marx said, stepping forward before any of us could respond.
She swam towards the platform, placing each key in its corresponding slot. Marx's keys began to glow, their light spreading through the water in rippling waves. A section of the chamber wall dissolved, revealing a tunnel that led upward, toward the surface. But the sirens moved to block her path.
"Speak your truth," the leader commanded. “And you may proceed.”
Marx's face contorted, as if fighting against invisible bonds. When she finally spoke, her voice was stripped of all of her usual sarcasm, raw and unguarded.
"I cursed my family," she said, the words dragged from somewhere deep inside her. "I didn't just run away. I made sure they would suffer. And when I heard they had all died—painfully, horribly—I felt... glad."
The confession hung in the water around us, stark and terrible. She had told me her story, but the deliberate vengeance was something she had never revealed.
The sirens conferred silently, their glowing patterns flashing in complex sequences. Then the leader nodded.
"Truth."
Marx turned, her eyes finding mine. For a brief moment, I saw uncertainty there—a rare display of vulnerability from someone who kept herself so carefully guarded.
"Go," I told her, my voice steady despite the dread building in my stomach. "We’ll see you up there."
She nodded once, a gesture of farewell. Without another word, she swam into the tunnel, her form quickly disappearing as she ascended toward the surface.
"The next contestant," the mer-being intoned, its eerie gaze sweeping over those who remained.
Kyren looked between Thatcher and I before clearing his throat, a strange sound underwater. "I'll go."
He approached the platform slowly, his hands trembling slightly as he placed his keys in their slots. The same burst of light, the same tunnel opening in the wall, the same beings moving to block his path.
"Speak your truth," came the command.
Kyren's face contorted with something beyond fear—shame, deep and visceral. He closed his eyes, unable to look at us as he spoke.
"I'm the reason my family lost everything," he said, his voice tight and low. "My mother was a respected merchant, built her business from nothing. Our family name meant something in the trade routes from Easthold to the Coast."
His hands trembled as he continued. "When my powers first manifested, I was fifteen.
I could create these perfect illusions—make worthless metals look like gold, cheap stones sparkle like diamonds.
" His eyes closed briefly, pain etched across his features.
"I convinced myself it was harmless. Just a way to help the family business during a difficult season. "
Tears leaked from his eyes, dissolving instantly into the surrounding water.
"At first, it was small deceptions. Then larger ones.
My mother never knew—she thought we'd simply found better suppliers.
The pride in her eyes when our profits doubled.
.." His voice cracked. "I kept going, creating illusory goods for bigger and bigger contracts. "
He looked up, his expression raw with self-loathing. "When the deception was discovered, the Guild didn't just punish me. They seized everything—our home, our trading ships, every coin we had. My mother was publicly disgraced, my father imprisoned for fraud."
The sirens conferred in their silent language of light, patterns flashing across their skin.
"Truth," the leader finally declared.
Kyren didn't look back as he swam into his tunnel, disappearing as Marx had before him. His shame seemed to linger in the water, a heaviness that wouldn't dissipate.
What do we do? Thatcher's thoughts rushed through our bond, desperate and searching .
We have to try something, I responded. Some truth that's dark but not... that.
"Which of you is next?" the mer-being asked, its eyes seeming to look through us rather than at us.
I squeezed Thatcher's hand briefly, then moved forward. "I am."
I swam to the platform and placed my keys in their slots, one by one. The memory key, the echo key, the whisper key—each settling with a soft click. Light erupted from the receptacles.
The wall dissolved, revealing my pathway to the surface. Three sirens immediately took position before it, their forms solid and immovable.
"Speak your truth," the leader commanded.
I swallowed hard, searching for words that would satisfy them.
"My darkest truth," I began, hoping my voice sounded steadier than it felt, "is that I enjoyed killing.
When I took that contestant's life during the first trial, I felt a rush of power unlike anything I've experienced.
It wasn't just survival—it was pleasure. And part of me wants to feel it again."
It wasn't entirely a lie. There had been a terrible satisfaction in that moment—a sense of rightness that disturbed me when I allowed myself to think about it.
The beings went still, their patterns freezing mid-pulse. Then, without warning, pain exploded through my mind—white-hot and absolute, as if fire was being injected straight into me. I screamed, the sound distorted by the water.
"Lies carry consequences," the leader said, its voice cold. "Speak your true darkness."
“But that is?—”
The pain returned tenfold, radiating outward from my core until I couldn't tell where it ended and I began. My vision fractured, darkness creeping in from the edges. I was dimly aware of Thatcher shouting, of movement behind me, but I couldn't focus through the agony.
"She refuses truth," the leader announced. "She cannot pass. "
Then there was only pain again. Only white, hot lava blasting through me.
"Stop!" Thatcher's voice pierced through the haze. "Let her go!"
The sirens ignored him. I couldn't see, couldn't think, couldn’t breathe.
I screamed.
Then came a sound like nothing I'd ever heard—a deep, resonant tearing that seemed to vibrate through water and bone alike. Pressure waves slammed through the chamber, followed by something hot and viscous washing over me. The pain stopped abruptly.
When my vision cleared, horror wracked me.
The sirens were... everywhere. In pieces. Fragments of what had once been bodies floated in the water around me, already beginning to dissolve. Blood inked through the water, thick and dark, obscuring parts of the chamber. All of them. All of them were dead.
Thatcher was beside me, his face a mask of concern and something darker. Something I'd seen only once before, when Drakor had threatened him in the Proving.
"What did you do?" I whispered.
"They were killing you," he said simply, his voice hollow. "I couldn't let them."
Before I could respond, the chamber shuddered violently. Cracks appeared in the walls, spreading like lightning across the stone. Pieces of ceiling began to fall, crashing into the platform and sending shock waves through the water.
"The Archive is collapsing," Thatcher said urgently.
"My tunnel," I realized, looking toward the opening that had formed when I'd placed my keys. To my relief, it remained intact, the pathway still glowing with silvery light. "It's still open!"
"I need to use my keys," Thatcher said, already moving back to the platform.
I followed, fighting against the increasing turbulence as the Archive continued to shake itself apart. The chamber shuddered violently, chunks of ceiling crashing down around us .
Thatcher reached the platform first, quickly placing his three keys into their respective slots. For a moment, nothing happened, and panic clawed at my chest. Then the keys began to glow, their light intensifying until it was almost blinding.
A second opening appeared in the wall beside mine—his escape route forming just as the others had.
"Let's go!" I shouted over the growing roar of destruction, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward our escape routes.
We swam into our separate tunnels, racing against the destruction that pursued us. The passages ran parallel at first, close enough that I could see Thatcher through the crystalline barrier. Each tunnel twisted upward, occasionally branching in multiple directions.
The water pressure decreased as we ascended, but the danger only seemed to increase, the passages narrowing and debris beginning to fall more frequently.
Almost there, he sent through the bond, pointing to a patch of brighter water ahead where our paths appeared to converge.
A final violent tremor shook the tunnel. The structure around us groaned, stone grinding against stone. Then, with a sound like thunder, the ceiling gave way completely. Thatcher grabbed me, pulling me forward with desperate strength as tons of ancient masonry crashed down behind us.
We burst into open water just as the tunnel collapsed entirely, the force of the destruction propelling us upward. Above us, the surface shimmered with sunlight, tantalizingly close.
What happens when we get up there? I sent through our bond, the question encompassing all that had occurred below.
Thatcher's response carried a grim certainty. We’re fucked.
No matter what, we’re in this together, I promised, though fear churned in my stomach.
Because I knew. We weren’t getting out of this.