The chamber felt warmer now, though the air had not changed. Perhaps it was the way Watson smiled faint, hesitant, but real enough that Ren's chest tightened again.

Watson leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees, eyes flicking between the two men as if anchoring himself in their presence. "Friends… we are now friends" he repeated softly, like he was tasting the word for the first time.

Ren's fingers brushed the edge of the table, grounding himself. "Yes," he said simply, the word carrying more weight than he wanted to admit. "We are now friends."

For a moment, silence stretched again but not the heavy, choking silence from earlier. This one was fragile, almost delicate, like glass catching the light.

Lark cleared his throat, drawing both their gazes. "We'll see what Kiratava says," he said evenly. "But for now… it's enough that you have someone beside you." His eyes lingered on Ren, sharp, as though silently reminding him not to overstep.

Watson nodded, his shoulders easing. He seemed calmer now, less restless. The tapping of his fingers had stilled. "I'm… glad you're here," he admitted, his voice low, unsure if it should be spoken at all.

Ren only offered him a small smile in return. It was easier than words.

The Archive's runes pulsed once, faint light crawling across the stone floor like veins of fire. A reminder that time was moving, that their presence here was already stretching long.

Lark stood, his cloak whispering as it brushed the floor. "We should go," he said firmly. His gaze flicked to Ren, then back to Watson. "There are matters waiting for us outside these walls. Urgent ones."

Watson looked up at them, his brows furrowing. "You're leaving?"

"Yes," Lark answered, his tone carrying the finality of command. But softer, he added, "We'll return when we can."

Watson hesitated, then gave a slow nod. His hands curled and uncurled in his lap, restless. "Alright," he murmured. "I won't stop you."

Ren stepped closer, lowering his voice as he spoke. "Take care of yourself, Watson. Eat properly… don't let those dreams eat more of you than they already have."

Watson's lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. "I'll try. And… I'll wait. For when you come again."

Ren's throat tightened, but he forced the corners of his mouth upward. "Good."

They left together, the heavy wooden door closing with a groan behind them. The hall beyond was dim, lit only by the glow of sigils tracing along the stone archways. Their boots echoed faintly as they walked, the silence between them taut with unspoken words.

Finally, Ren glanced sideways at Lark. "You lied to him."

Lark didn't break stride. "Yes. Because sir, Kiratava told that. He is very sensitive now." His jaw clenched, voice low but steady. "Let him believe you're part of his past. Let him cling to that, until he's strong enough to know everything. But you lost your temper. I have handled everything somehow. Be careful from now on."

"Sure, i will. But sorry for that."

Ren replied. His hands curled briefly at his sides, then relaxed. The lie weighed on him, but he couldn't argue not when Watson's fragile smile still lingered in his memory.

"Don't worry. Just be careful from next time. I can understand your situation." Lark spoked gently.

"I will. Thanks for everything." Ren replied.

Behind them, inside the Archive, Watson sat in silence. His fingers returned to that same gentle rhythm against the armrest, like a heartbeat. His eyes were distant, his mind reaching for something just out of grasp.

But for the first time in days, he didn't feel entirely alone.

And that small thread. However fragile, however false. Was enough to hold him together.

Ren followed quietly behind Lark as they left the main hall of the Southern Archive. The place was felt like alive with movement above, clerks carrying records and soldiers standing watch, but they went at ground located infront of the main hall. They turned into right direction. Stepped ahead above the stone pathway. Than after a short distance they showed a grand building. Made up of white marbles. The building rose like a monument of purity, its walls carved from seamless white marble that shimmered faintly beneath the light. Intricate runes flowed across its surface, glowing softly as if the stone itself breathed with magic. Tall spires crowned the roof, each tipped with crystals that pulsed in rhythm with unseen currents of mana, casting arcs of light into the air like silent beacons. Beyond It's spiralling stairway present. They were going upwards. Above it so many platforms present. Each one was door way for going somewhere.

Through one plateform important members could entered in the teleportation lifts. Through that they reached the grand chamber's doors. Its heavy arched doors lay infront of the Grand Chamber's corridor. Ahead the grand chamber a long corridor present. The ceiling of grand chamber stretched high above, supported by marble pillars engraved with sigils that whispered with power. A circular table of polished obsidian rested at the center, surrounded by towering chairs adorned with silver and crystal. When one spoke within the chamber, the very walls carried the words, amplifying them without echo. Wisps of ethereal flame floated in the air, shedding a gentle glow that never dimmed.

Here, rulers, mages, and envoys gathered where voices shaped kingdoms, countries and decisions could shift the fate of entire planet. The air itself felt heavy with authority, as though the stones remembered every oath, bargain, and betrayal ever spoken within.

as they entered, the noise thinned out.

The corridor ahead was long, lined with faintly glowing runes that pulsed every few moments. Soldiers at each checkpoint stood stiff as stone, their eyes following Ren but saying nothing. Each time, Lark gave a small nod, and they were allowed to pass.

"You've never been down here before, right?" Lark asked as they walked.

Ren shook his head. "No. I didn't even know this part existed."

"Most people don't," Lark said. His voice was calm, but there was weight behind it. "It's not something we talk about openly."

They reached a wide stairwell spiraling upward. The stone steps were dark, polished from years of use, and the torches on the walls barely lit the way. The air grew colder with every step. Their footsteps echoed, the sound bouncing endlessly in the hollow shaft.

After what felt like minutes, the stairs ended at a platform where a strange lift waited. Its frame was made of black iron, with glowing glyphs etched into the floor. Lark stepped on first. "Come on. This will take us further."

Ren hesitated, then followed. The moment both of them stood inside, the runes lit up and the platform began to descend smoothly, carrying them deeper into the ground. The hum of magic surrounded them, low and steady, almost like a heartbeat.

Ren crossed his arms. "So… Where we go exactly?"

Lark's eyes stayed on the dark walls sliding past. "You'll see soon. Just come with me."

The teleportation lift finally slowed, stopping before a heavy set of doors. More soldiers stood here, silent, their armor faintly glowing with protective wards. One of them pulled the door open with effort, and the cold that seeped out felt almost unnatural.

They entered a long corridor. On either side were thick steel doors, each marked with sigils that glowed faintly. The silence here was heavier, broken only by the faint hum of enchantments in the walls.

At the end of the passage, Lark stopped. Before them stood a reinforced door layered with glowing seals, brighter than any they had passed. He placed a hand on it, and the runes shifted, loosening their hold.

"This is it," Lark said quietly. "This is the place that we are going."

Ren stared at the door, feeling a weight in his chest. He didn't know what he was about to see, but the air already carried a strange tension.

Lark glanced at him. "Yes, Stay calm. Remember, this is very important and top secret place. So don't behave childish."

"Okay, I will not." Ren agreed.

With that, he pushed the door open, and they stepped inside.

The chamber was quiet when Lark entered with Ren at his side. The crystals in the walls cast a steady, pale glow, their light breaking against the polished edges of the round table.

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