The gold route thickens into a doorway of living script. Beyond it, darkness breathes in slow pulses, like a thing waiting to be named.

Walter tightens his borrowed wrap and studies the threshold. Mara lingers a step back, eyes on the pulse at Kynes's blade. The chamber settles, as if listening for his answer.

The doorway opens wider on its own, and a cold draft rolls out carrying the taste of old ink and stone. A second line of silver script flashes deep inside, then vanishes, as if the vault has noticed them peering back.

Kynes stands at the threshold, with Bren beside him and the others ready behind. The path forward is clear, and it leads directly into the nearest dormant vault.