Mind Over Magic-Chapter 23 - 22: The Sleeping One

The train cut through the valley like a silver snake with somewhere better to be.

It wasn’t powered by steam or magic. Not anymore. This one moved on lines powered by thought—a half-forgotten psychic transport system built during the early integration of Crown architecture into post-collapse infrastructure. Most people didn’t even know it existed.

That’s why Alaric chose it.

Inside the private car, the lights were dim, the chairs old but soft, and the walls thick enough to silence the outside world. Mira sat nearest the back window, watching the scenery blur past with her hands folded in her lap. Seraphine lounged sideways on one of the longer benches, tossing a dagger into the air and catching it without looking. Kaelion had spread three maps across a table and was muttering under his breath. Astra leaned against the door, her arms crossed, eyes flicking to every creak and flicker of movement.

Alaric stood near the center of the room, his coat half-unbuttoned, fingers tracing the edge of a half-finished circuit drawn directly onto the table.

Solas wasn’t there.

Which was both expected and irritating.

Kaelion finally broke the silence.

"So... who names a place the Cathedral of the First Light and then buries it under a mountain?"

Seraphine smirked. "Maybe they wanted it to sound poetic when people died trying to find it."

Kaelion grunted. "It’s not even under one mountain. It’s under four. Four collapsed ridgelines with ruin markers only visible at sunrise on certain calendar days. The kind of place that’s supposed to be hidden unless the world really wants it found."

Alaric didn’t look up. "The Church knows we’re heading there?"

"Absolutely," Astra said without missing a beat. "They won’t stop us from finding the Crown. They’ll wait until we open it—and then they’ll kill us and take it."

Mira finally spoke, quiet as ever. "If the Crown inside never woke, it means they were sealed with a last-level lock. No external trigger. No memory recall. They are likely unaware of the current era."

Seraphine raised a brow. "So... they’re going to wake up in the middle of a civil war and not even know what year it is?"

"Or worse," Mira said. "They may not know what they are."

Kaelion leaned back. "Is this one dangerous?"

Alaric answered for her. "They all are. It just depends how much."

Kaelion frowned. "What was their function?"

"That’s the problem," Alaric said. "We don’t know."

Seraphine straightened a little. "What do you mean we don’t know? Didn’t you design all of them?"

"Most of them," Alaric said. "Not this one. They were added late. During a panic phase. After I’d already gone into archive mode."

Mira added, "The Crown was labeled ’Fallback Unit Twelve.’ No name. No role. Just an anchor tag."

Kaelion groaned. "I hate fallback units. They’re always one of three things: unstable, forgotten, or a time bomb."

Astra pushed off the wall. "Or all three."

Alaric tapped the table once. "The question isn’t if they’re dangerous. It’s who else knows."

Kaelion hesitated. "You mean the Church?"

"No," Alaric said. "I mean the one Crown we haven’t seen yet."

Seraphine blinked. "You think there’s a sixth already awake?"

"There were seven protocols," Mira said. "You, me, Astra, Solas, the fallback unit... and two more. One was erased in the early purge. The last one was never located."

Kaelion narrowed his eyes. "If they’re awake and haven’t shown up... why?"

Alaric didn’t blink. "Because they’re watching."

Astra muttered, "Always watching."

Seraphine stood up fully now. "So what’s the plan if we find this fallback Crown and they’re not stable?"

"Same as always," Alaric said. "We talk first."

"And if talking fails?"

He turned slowly.

"Then we survive."

---

The train slowed.

Not because it reached a station.

Because something interrupted the track.

The lights flickered.

Kaelion stood fast. "We’re still an hour out from the base camp. What the hell—"

The train screeched once and lurched.

Outside, the valley narrowed. Fog crept in from the trees, thick and slow. But it wasn’t just mist.

Mira stood instantly. "Psychic fog."

Astra’s eyes sharpened. "Someone’s redirecting the dream layer."

Alaric moved to the window.

Shapes stood on the track.

Not humans.

Not beasts.

Reflections.

Wearing faces that looked like theirs—but wrong.

Smiling too much.

Bleeding at the edges.

Kaelion said what no one wanted to.

"We’re being pulled into a fear-loop."

Seraphine stepped to the door. "Then we break it."

"Not yet," Alaric said. "Let it play."

She turned, surprised. "Why?"

"Because someone wants us scared. I want to know what they think we’re afraid of."

The door opened.

But not into the valley.

Into a hallway.

Long. Empty. Endless.

The kind that only shows up in dreams that want you to remember something important.

Mira whispered, "They’re baiting us."

Astra nodded. "Or warning us."

Alaric stepped through the door.

"I’m going in."

Kaelion groaned. "You never say that with a smile."

Seraphine followed him. "Just don’t die in there."

Astra and Mira came last.

And as the door shut behind them—

The train vanished.

And the hallway darkened.

At the far end, a door creaked open.

And from inside, a voice spoke.

Not loud.

Not fast.

Just familiar.

> "Alaric Veyron."

> "I remember you."

The voice drifted out from the end of the hallway like it had been waiting for centuries just to speak again. It didn’t echo. It didn’t need to. Somehow, each word landed in their ears and bones at the same time.

Kaelion whispered, "Okay. That didn’t sound hostile. That almost sounded... sad."

Astra’s fingers flexed at her side. "That’s worse."

Seraphine took two slow steps toward the open door, but didn’t cross the threshold. "Anyone else feel like walking through that door is the kind of decision we regret five seconds later?"

"We’ve walked into worse," Alaric said.

Kaelion raised his hand. "Yes, and those nearly killed us."

"We survived."

"Barely!"

Mira stepped forward without hesitation. "The fallback Crown is awake. That’s not a simulation voice. It has memory context. And intent."

"Intent to talk?" Seraphine asked.

"Or confront," Astra said softly.

Alaric glanced at them all. "Either way, we’re here now."

He walked toward the door.

It didn’t swing wider. It didn’t close.

It just stayed open.

Waiting.

---

Inside was a single room.

Wide.

Circular.

The walls were made of polished black stone—no reflections. The air didn’t move. No lights hung from the ceiling, but the room was gently lit anyway, as if thought itself had decided they should see.

And at the far end, sitting on a stone bench, was a person.

A man.

Tall. Pale. Wrapped in an old cloak that looked too thin for the cold, though there was no cold. His hands were resting calmly on his knees. His hair was dark, his eyes... unreadable. Not glowing. Not lifeless. Just focused.

Like he was watching from a place behind his eyes.

He smiled.

"Hello, Alaric."

Alaric took one step into the room. "You know me."

The man nodded. "Of course. You’re the chain. The anchor. The fail switch and the guide."

Seraphine stayed by the wall, watching. "That sounds like a lot of job titles."

The man chuckled. "It is. He wore all of them. Until he broke."

Kaelion stepped in next. "You’re the fallback Crown?"

"I was the one they didn’t trust to use," the man said. "So they buried me. Safely. At the bottom of the system."

Mira walked to Alaric’s side. "You weren’t listed. You were a hidden tag. Not part of the original chain."

"No," the man said. "I was added later. When they realized that one memory alone wouldn’t be enough."

Astra’s eyes narrowed. "Which memory?"

The man looked straight at Alaric.

"Yours."

---

Alaric didn’t move. "Why me?"

"Because you were the first to break," the man said. "Not just physically. Not just in battle. Emotionally. You lost your center. But instead of letting the system collapse, you reset yourself. You rewrote your core pattern and kept walking."

Seraphine tilted her head. "That sounds... kind of badass, actually."

"It was," the man said. "But it scared them."

Kaelion crossed his arms. "So they made a backup. You."

"Yes," the man said. "A backup with no orders. No will. Just one instruction: Watch Alaric. If he falters, begin overwriting his memory chain."

Alaric’s voice turned sharp. "So you were made to replace me."

"No," the man said gently. "I was made to become you. If you stopped being you."

Seraphine stepped forward. "Okay. I don’t like that at all."

Mira didn’t blink. "How long have you been awake?"

"I never slept," the man replied. "They froze my body, but left my thoughts spinning. I’ve been in this room, reliving every piece of him for over five hundred years."

Astra’s voice cracked a little. "That’s not containment. That’s torture."

The man looked at her. "I don’t regret it. But I do resent the silence."

Alaric stepped closer. "What’s your name?"

The man blinked. "You didn’t give me one."

"Then what should I call you?"

"I don’t know," the man said. "But the system labeled me as..."

He closed his eyes and whispered.

> "Crown of Reflection."

---

Kaelion muttered, "And here I thought ’Crown of Chains’ sounded depressing."

Mira looked at the man carefully. "You remember everything?"

"Yes."

"Even the things that Alaric doesn’t?"

"I remember especially those."

Alaric clenched his jaw. "Then you know why I had to erase them."

"I do," the Crown said. "But I still don’t forgive you."

Alaric blinked. "For what?"

"For leaving me down here with all of it."

---

The room pulsed.

The air shifted.

Something under the stone vibrated once.

Not violently. Just enough.

Astra whispered, "That’s a system quake."

Kaelion turned to her. "You mean he’s activating?"

"No," the Crown said calmly. "I’m responding."

"To what?" Alaric asked.

"To the ones climbing down the valley right now."

Seraphine frowned. "Church?"

"Worse," he said.

Alaric’s voice dropped. "Another Crown?"

"No," the man said. "Two."

Kaelion inhaled through his teeth. "No no no. Don’t say things like that. That’s a terrible sentence."

"Two Crowns," Mira repeated.

"They’re not walking together," the man said. "But their thoughts are aligned. I can feel the resonance. One is cold. Sharp. Broken. The other is... confused. Dangerous in a way they don’t understand yet."

Alaric stared at him. "You’re feeling them from down the mountain?"

"I’ve been dreaming of them for years," the Crown said.

"Do you know their names?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. But I will. Soon."

The stone beneath their feet pulsed again.

He looked up.

And his eyes glowed now—not bright, but deep. Like someone had switched on a hallway of memory behind them.

And said, slowly—

> "One of them isn’t one of us."

The room held its breath.

The air didn’t shift. No one moved. The pulse beneath the floor faded to silence, but the words hung heavy between them. Alaric narrowed his eyes. His voice was calm, but there was tension under the surface. "What do you mean ’one of them isn’t one of us’?"

The man who’d named himself the Crown of Reflection looked directly at him. "I mean one of the signals doesn’t match any protocol."

Kaelion blinked twice. "Wait. You mean... they’re not a Crown?"

The Crown nodded once. "Not a real one. Not by the original design."

Seraphine frowned, pacing toward the wall and back. "So we’ve got a real Crown coming, and something pretending to be one?"

"Not pretending," Astra said slowly. "If they’re resonating at the same frequency, they’re not faking. They’ve been tuned."

Mira folded her arms. "Altered?"

"Possibly," the Crown answered. "Or rebuilt. From pieces. Someone tried to make a Crown."

Alaric’s jaw tightened. "The Church."

Kaelion muttered, "Gods. That’s exactly the kind of mistake they’d make. See a psychic weapon, decide to build their own, and somehow make a murder bomb with a halo."

Seraphine turned. "Can we stop them before they reach this place?"

"No," the Crown said. "They’re already in the valley. Moving fast."

Mira’s voice was steady. "Then we don’t wait."

Alaric looked to the exit. "Let’s meet them halfway."

"Are we bringing him?" Kaelion asked, jerking a thumb toward the Crown of Reflection.

The man stood, slow but smooth. "I’ve been sitting for half a millennium. I’d like a walk."

Astra raised a brow. "You sure your legs remember how?"

The man smiled faintly. "More than yours remember silence."

Kaelion coughed once. "Okay, I like him. Bit rude, but elegant."

Seraphine rolled her eyes. "We don’t have time for bonding. Whoever’s out there—real or not—they’re not here to talk."

Alaric moved toward the exit. "Then we prepare for a fight. Not just with power—mentally. If one of them is artificial, their pattern will be unstable. But unpredictable."

Mira walked beside him. "Do we try to reach them first?"

"Yes," Alaric said. "But if they cross the threshold without permission..."

Kaelion sighed. "Then we welcome them the old-fashioned way."

Seraphine flipped her dagger once. "Sharp side forward."

---

They exited the vault into the cold night.

The air in the valley had shifted. What had been still and quiet earlier now hummed faintly, like the wind had learned how to whisper but hadn’t decided what language to use. The group walked carefully up the rocky incline, boots crunching over dirt and frost.

No one spoke for a long minute.

Then Mira said softly, "I can feel them."

Astra replied just as quiet. "I can’t. That worries me."

"They’re dampening," the Crown of Reflection said. "One of them is broadcasting too clean. No emotional debris. That’s not natural."

Kaelion frowned. "You mean they’re masking their mind?"

"No," the Crown said. "I mean they might not have one."

Seraphine paused. "Okay, I hate everything about that sentence."

Then Alaric stopped.

Everyone stopped with him.

They had reached the midpoint of the ridge, and directly across from them, standing on the opposite slope just below a jutting black rock, were two figures.

Both hooded.

One taller than the other.

Still. Silent.

Not moving.

Just watching.

Alaric took a single step forward. "Identify yourselves."

Nothing.

The taller one raised a hand—palm open.

Then closed it.

And the fog dropped like a curtain.

---

Everything vanished.

The mountain. The air. The ground beneath their feet.

Suddenly the group stood in a perfect white space.

Kaelion gasped. "Not again."

"A projected domain," Mira said. "One of them initiated a cleanroom construct."

The fog parted.

And the two figures stood there again.

No longer across the ridge.

Just ten steps away.

The taller one reached up and pulled back the hood.

A woman.

Pale skin. Golden eyes. No visible emotion.

And her face—familiar.

Alaric blinked once.

Kaelion whispered, "She looks like... you."

Not exactly. Not a twin. But there was something in the way her eyes moved. The way she held still. The shape of her expression—calculated, detached.

Astra’s voice was cold. "What is she?"

The woman spoke.

Her voice was perfect.

Too perfect.

"Crown Echo Number Eight," she said. "Designation: Harmony."

Mira flinched.

"There is no Echo Eight," she whispered.

"Correct," the woman replied. "I was not born of the original cycle. I was extracted. Stabilized. Rewritten."

Alaric stepped forward. "By who?"

The woman didn’t answer.

But the second figure pulled back their hood.

A man.

Young. Too young. Red eyes. No glow. Just sharp.

He grinned.

Not cold.

Not friendly.

Just... entertained.

"I’m glad you came, Alaric," he said.

Alaric frowned. "And you are?"

The man bowed.

"Name’s Kyreth. I’m the one who pulled Harmony out of the archive. You could call me a researcher. Or a thief."

Astra’s hands twitched. "Or a mistake."

Kyreth laughed once. "Probably all three."

Seraphine stepped closer to Alaric. "We fighting?"

Alaric didn’t answer.

Kyreth continued, "I came here to offer you something."

"What?" Alaric asked.

"The future," Kyreth said. "But with better authors."

Mira’s voice turned ice. "You mean erasing the current one."

Kyreth grinned wider. "Exactly. Your truth was fun. But I have something better. Something cleaner."

Then he pointed at Alaric.

And said—

> "Let’s see what happens when your replacement is better than the original."

---

Harmony raised both hands.

And the world cracked.