The sealed chamber hums with trapped power. Nezznar hangs rigid in Kynes's stasis, fury locked behind wide eyes. The silver script on the locket brightens, then starts to crawl across its face like fresh ink.

Bren tightens her grip on the blade, watching Mara more than the frozen mage. The locket gives a low pulse in Kynes's hand, and a second line of script blooms, pointing toward Nezznar's chest.

The floor sigil dims to an ember, but the locket stays hot and insistent, as if it wants one final name. Mara flinches, Bren steps half a pace forward, and the standoff narrows to a single choice, force Nezznar to speak, or let the locket reveal its purpose.

Kynes lets the locket answer in the chamber's hush. The silver line on its face brightens, then spills a thin thread of light toward Nezznar, as if naming its target.

Mara goes still, eyes fixed on the glow. Bren shifts her stance, but does not interrupt.

The locket warms in Kynes's hand, and the second script line settles into place, clear and direct. It is a lockmark for Nezznar, and it marks him as the one the seal answers to.

Bren lifts her blade a fraction, watching Nezznar's furious stare. The ember sigil on the floor stays dim, while the locket keeps pointing at him, waiting for his name to matter.

Kynes lets the pressure settle, then presses the question into the silence. The locket stays warm, its silver line steady on Nezznar as if refusing to look away.

Bren's blade lowers by a finger, not in trust, only in understanding. The dim ember sigil gives a faint, dry pulse beneath the floor.

The locket's glow settles into a clean line toward Nezznar, and Mara watches it with tight, unsettled focus. Bren turns her eyes from the seal to Kynes, waiting for his next question.