The hall swallows Kynes and Bren in cold violet hush. Obsidian pillars throb around them, and the floor names those House Domini buried. At the center, the pact record hangs open, its gold margins bright enough to read from across the chamber.

Beneath the script, a second layer stirs, House Xar signatures nested inside House Domini's lie. The evidence is enough to name traitors, enough to claim Kynes's authority, and enough to ruin anyone tied to the old vault.

Kynes raises his staff. The pact page trembles, waiting, as if the hall itself asks whether he will preserve the proof or scour it clean.

The violet light tightens on the choice. If he keeps the evidence, House Xar can be named. If he destroys it, the truth dies here, and so does the path it opens.

Kynes lowers his staff a fraction and lets his mind press outward through the archive's gold script.

The pact record answers at once. Its margins sharpen, and the exposed House Xar linework glows in a clean, witness-bright gold.

A second pulse runs through the floor, and the nested Xar signatures hold fast instead of smearing away.

Bren's posture eases by a breath, but her eyes stay on the record, waiting for whatever the archive notices next.

The archive takes the command without hesitation. Gold light pours through the exposed script, and the hidden House Xar line unspools across the wall like a blade drawn from a sheath.

Old joins separate. Inked names, payment marks, and witness notches surface in clean layers, each one pinned by the archive before it can blur or flee.

A narrower thread appears beneath the names, a sealed margin line tucked under the corruption record, bright enough to read but not yet spoken aloud.

Bren leans in, tense again now that the full shape is visible. The archive holds the evidence steady, waiting for Kynes to decide whether to read the margin or let the chamber keep its silence.

Gold script answers at once. The narrow thread brightens, splits, and settles into full House Domini lettering, no longer sealed or hidden.

Beneath it, a second note surfaces in clean gold, naming the payment terms and the witness who carried them. The chamber holds still while the line finishes writing itself.

The wall record locks into place, brighter than before, with the corrupt line pinned beside the margin like evidence nailed to stone. A fresh route of faint gold script begins to form beyond it, waiting for Kynes's next command.