The duel ring dimmed slowly, the residual light fading from the etched floor as Kael stepped back into himself. The illusion was gone, the storm of memories stilled. Vyra knelt just outside her circle, sweat running down her temple, her breath ragged and uneven.
She looked up at him—not with anger, not even with shame.
With fear.
"You bent the anchor," she whispered.
Kael didn't understand.
"What did I do?"
The Duelmaster crossed the space between them with unnatural stillness. He knelt beside Vyra, touched her forehead briefly, then looked at Kael.
"That was not a House technique," he said. "That wasn't taught."
Kael swallowed. "I didn't mean to do anything forbidden."
"You didn't break rules," the Duelmaster said. "You used a forgotten one."
He stood, folding his hands behind his back.
"'Unwritten Echo,'" he said, almost reverently. "A form of resonance thought lost. It bends memory space by weight of emotional certainty. It doesn't force, it reminds."
Kael frowned. "Reminds what?"
"The mind. The Vault. Reality itself."
Vyra rose shakily to her feet.
"I concede," she said quietly. "He held."
Kael turned to Lira, who stood at the edge, jaw tight.
"You said I had to protect my identity," he said. "But I don't even know what it is."
Lira didn't respond.
Corren stepped out of the shadows, his expression unreadable.
"You remembered something," he said.
"I didn't," Kael replied.
Corren studied him. "Then something remembered you."
The Duelmaster inclined his head.
"You have earned passage. But beware. Deeper Vaults do not respond kindly to the unfamiliar."
Kael nodded slowly, still feeling the weight of whatever had passed through him.
He hadn't won the duel.
He had survived it.
And that seemed, somehow, worse.