The alarms refused to stop.
Their metallic echoes rolled through every corridor of the colossal tower, reverberating through crystal walls and ancient halls that had remained silent for untold ages.
Red light washed over the Hall of Memory.
The floating crystals that had once displayed the history of the forgotten civilization dimmed until only faint blue sparks remained.
The peaceful atmosphere vanished completely.
In its place came tension.
Urgency.
War.
John stood motionless before the golden crystal sphere.
The words from the ancient recording still echoed in his mind.
**"When the black dragon returns… the path shall open once more."**
Returns.
Not *appears*.
Not *awakens*.
Returns.
The distinction refused to leave his thoughts.
Lythriel stepped beside him, lowering her spear.
"You've been quiet."
John didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked at the countless crystals floating around the chamber.
Every one of them contained memories.
Knowledge.
History.
