Chapter 36

The Hollow Gate.

They called it the hollow not because it was empty. But because anything that enters it never comes out whole.

I stood before the ancient stone doors deep beneath Edenfall. Flanked by Damian on my left and Varek on my right.

Behind us, four of Varek's most trusted soldiers, cloaked in black and sworn to silence.

“This is the watcher’s personal archive?” Damian asked, his hand on his concealed pistol.

Varek nodded once. “And his grave if we’re lucky.”

I placed my hand against the symbol carved into the door. And ouroboros wrapped around a burning eye.

The symbol of the First court.

The true rulers before Edenfall wore crowns and masks.

The stone cracked. Groaned. And slid open, revealing the part forward. A single staircase spiraling into the darkness.

No guards. No traps.

That was what made it terrifying.

Let’s go. I said.

The descent was steep, the air thick with dust and decay.

The deeper we went, the more it seemed like the tunnels changed. From marble and crystal to rough, primitive stone. The magic here was older, rawer, and it pulsed through the walls like heartbeat.

I could feel it hum through my blood.

At that base, we reached a door bound in iron chairs sealed with six different sigils.

“This is it,” Varek murmured. “Whatever’s behind this is what the watcher has spent twenty years hiding.”

I stepped forward and raised the phoenix ring on my finger.

The first sigil glowed. And then, one by one the others cracked. The door shuddered and then opened.

Inside was a tomb. Not a vault.

A single glass chamber stood at the center of the room, lit by arcane fire. Inside, suspended in stasis was a woman.

Dark hair. Pale skin. Eyes closed.

She looked just like me.

Damian stepped forward with his breath catching. “Is this…”

Varek whispered. “No. It’s a clone.”

My fingers went trembling. It’s a backup.

And then, I saw the inscription on the base of the chamber.

Project Echo. Bloodline resurrection. Authorized by the watcher. Active.

Alec's words came rushing back.

“The court doesn’t fear fire. It fears legacy.”

It hasn’t been about my mother. It’s been about the bloodline. My blood.

They didn’t just kill my mother. They’ve tried to replace her.

Breed version. More obedient and more controllable.

And if I’d ever stepped too far out of line…

“They would activate this one,” Damian growled.

Varek stared grimly. “A copy. Molded in silence. Raised to obey. No fire. No rebellion.”

I stepped closer as my reflection mirrored in the glass.

Not an enemy. Not a savior.

An insurance policy. My hands curled into fists.

Burn it.

Damian moved forward, torch in hand, but Varek held his hand.

“Wait.”

He pointed to the far wall. Where a steel locker was embedded, marked with the same phoenix crest Maria had worn.

Inside was a single item. A dagger.

Curved. Black. Ancient.

I picked it up and felt my veins burn.

“Obsidian from the first court,” Varek murmured. “This was Maria’s.”

An inscription ran along the blade’s edge.

To kill a god. Remember her name.

I stared at the clone once more. Then, without hesitation, I turned, raised the dagger, and shattered the stasis chamber with a single strike.

The glass exploded. The body inside slumped forward.

Not alive. Not dead. Just empty.

I let it fall and turned to Damian. No more ghosts.

Back on the surface, chaos was brewing. The leak had done more than shake the court. It had split it.

Half of the families called for the watcher’s removal. The other doubled down on loyalty, painting me a false heir and a rebel queen.

Assassins prowled the halls now. At night, nobles die in silence.

Damian had three men executed within two days for plotting against men. Alec had vanished.

Varek stayed by my side.

And the people, those who remembered my mother lit candles beneath the gate.

I watched them from my chamber’s window with my finger gripping the obsidian dagger.

Do you think I’m becoming her? I asked Varek. With a quiet voice.

He didn’t hesitate. “No,”

Why not?

“Because she never had a Damian.”

At dawn, the watcher struck. A blood degree was passed stripping me of my title. Calling me for an exile. The council chamber erupted.

But I didn’t flee. I walked straight into the throne room.

Bloodstone on my neck, a dagger on my hip.

Damian at my side. And Varek’s soldiers behind me.

The nobles rose in fury, but I raised my hand.

And dropped the broken glass shard from the stasis chamber on the marble floor.

I’m not a copy. My voice echoed. I’m not a weapon and I’m not a name.

I unsheathed the dagger. I am Maria’s wrath and I am a reckoning.

The watcher stood slowly. But this time, he was not a god. He was a man.

Tired. Cornered. And afraid.