As the heavy oak doors groaned open for his , the air tasted of ozone and old parchment. The "RMT"—the Remembrance of Mortal Ties —was a ritual Elias hoped to complete. He didn't want the gold anymore; he wanted the silence. He walked toward the study, the floorboards counting his steps like a ticking clock, knowing that this time, he wouldn't be leaving with a prize, but leaving behind the ghost of who he used to be.