The gem’s interior defies logic.

Paths spiral upward and downward simultaneously. Crystals grow from the ceiling and floor, meeting in the middle like frozen waterfalls. Light comes from everywhere and nowhere, casting shadows that point in impossible directions.

“Which way?” Theron asks, his voice echoing strangely.

The relics answer.

Seraphine’s Quill lifts from your pack, floating in the air, its tip pointing toward a spiraling path. Aldric’s Scales tilt, indicating balance is found that direction. Thornwen’s Seed pulses with green light, urging you forward.

“We follow them,” you say. “They know the way.”

The journey is surreal. You pass through chambers filled with frozen memories—moments from Eldermoor’s history, preserved like insects in amber. You see the city being built, stone by stone. You see the founders meeting for the first time. You see the ceremony where it all went wrong.

“This is their prison,” Wren whispers. “They’ve been reliving this for three hundred years.”

“Not just reliving.” Mira points to one of the memories—a scene of violence, a betrayal. “Look. It’s changed. Twisted. Varek’s been corrupting their memories. Making them believe lies.”

You understand now. The founders’ torment isn’t just physical. It’s psychological. They’ve been trapped in a version of their past that makes them the villains, while Varek rewrites himself as the victim.

“We set the record straight,” you say. “We show them the truth.”

The path opens into a larger chamber. Three pathways branch from it, each leading to a different point of light.

The three founders. Separated. Imprisoned. Waiting.

“We split up,” you decide. “Each of you takes one. I’ll take the third.”

“That leaves one of us alone,” Theron says.

“I know.” You look at your allies. “But the founders can’t wait. And together, we’re stronger than Varek knows.”