The cathedral stood unchanged, yet it felt heavier somehow— as if it had been waiting for her.
Miralen's eyes drifted to the third knight symbol, the last statue— the one that had drawn her attention before. It was a woman carved from pale stone, holding a stone tablet close to her chest. A clock was embedded just where her heart should have been, its hands frozen in a single moment that never moved again.
Miralen slowly approached it.
She pulled out the map from her backpack and turned it over, her eyes tracing the faint golden letters glowing across its back.
> "When the heir's soul connects with the frozen people, it shows their memories— when they betrayed the laws of time.
They take you to the world of their past, to set themselves free. But if you fail... you will never return to your own memory."
Her voice trembled slightly as she whispered, "When the heir's soul connects with the frozen people..."
She looked back at the statue, the air around it almost humming.
The woman's face, though sculpted from cold marble, seemed achingly familiar. Miralen frowned, her chest tightening.
"Why... why does she feel so familiar?" she murmured, brushing a bit of dust off the stone. "Do I... know you?"
For a moment, she felt herself being pulled into the statue's empty eyes, sinking into its silence. Her vision blurred, and she forced herself to blink rapidly.
"No, no, Miralen, focus. You're here for a reason," she whispered, shaking her head.
She glanced down at the map again. "Heir... that must mean the one chosen to enter here. And frozen people..." Her gaze moved from one statue to another, realizing the pattern. ". these statues. These are the people who once betrayed the laws of time."
Her eyes fell on the small clock embedded in the woman's chest again. "Then... this clock— it stopped the very moment she broke that law," she said softly. "It's not just a symbol. It's the record of her last heartbeat... before the statue of her was made here... so where is her body now?..." she facepalmed "of course it would be in the graveyard, why am I even thinking about it?" she said, looking at statue.
A faint wind passed through the cathedral, carrying whispers that almost sounded like voices. The glow of the Time Vines flickered brighter— just once. Miralen's grip on the map tightened.
"Okay, now I'm starting to understand everything," she whispered. "To free them... I'll have to see what they saw. Live what they lived...but how? How can I even do that?"
The silence that followed felt almost like the cathedral was listening.
She stood alone in the vast silence of the cathedral.
But now for the first time since she had stepped into this place, doubt crept into her chest.
Why am I doing this?
The question echoed again and again in her mind, heavier each time.
What will I even gain by freeing souls long forgotten? Why should this burden be mine?
Her gaze drifted toward the great doors from which she had entered— the way back.
Back to her room.
Back to her father.
Back to a life that, until yesterday, had been painfully normal.
"I could leave..." she whispered, her voice dissolving into the still air.
"I could forget all of this."
For a moment, the thought felt comforting. But then— something stirred inside her.
A quiet, persistent voice.
Not loud. Not commanding.
Just... unwavering.
Stay.
Miralen clenched her fists. "Why?" she muttered, frustration slipping into her tone.
"Why does it feel like I don't have a choice?"
The silence did not answer her.
Yet somehow, she already knew.
The part of her that wanted answers— the part that refused to look away— won.
She exhaled slowly.
"...Fine," she said softly. "I'll stay."
———
Determined, Miralen began to search the cathedral.
She moved around the throne, running her fingers along its cold mirror— like surface. She circled the pillars, peered behind statues, crouched near shadowed corners, traced the glowing Time Vines with cautious steps. Nothing. No inscriptions. No hidden mechanisms. No whisper guiding her hand.
Her shoulders sagged.
"So this is it?" she murmured bitterly. "You drag me here... and give me nothing?"
She finally sank onto the marble floor, the cold seeping through her clothes. She looked at the map she was holding and stared at its pulsing golden lines once more.
And then—
A thought.
What if the map isn't meant to be read... but placed?
Her eyes slowly lifted to the throne. "...Don't tell me," she muttered under her breath. Rising to her feet, Miralen approached the throne with hesitant steps and gently laid the map upon its surface.
She waited.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Nothing happened.
A hollow laugh escaped her lips. "Of course," she said, shaking her head. "I really am stupid." Turning away, disappointment heavy in her chest, she began walking toward the exit. "I should've known better than to think fate would–" The ground shuddered.
Miralen froze.
The violent tremor nearly knocked her off balance. Her breath caught as memories flashed before her eyes— the skeleton giant, the explosion, the destruction.
"No..." she whispered, spinning around.
The statues stood unmoving.
The throne remained untouched. But beside it— the floor split open.
Stone groaned as something ancient rose from beneath the cathedral itself. A colossal door emerged, veins of gold threading across its surface like living arteries. At its center was carved a massive clock— its hands frozen.
Miralen's eyes widened in awe and terror. Her legs refused to move. "What... is that...?" she breathed. Slowly— almost against her will— she stepped forward. Each movement felt as though the cathedral itself was pulling her closer.
She stopped before the door and tilted her head upward, taking in its impossible height. Reaching out, she brushed away centuries of dust from the clock symbol. Her fingers trembled. Etched at the heart of the clock, delicate yet unmistakable, bloomed a Jasmine flower. Miralen's breath hitched.
The door stayed still, unmoving.
(The end of chapter 7)