(Three days after the Omega Breach)
The oppressive silence in the East Wing reading room was a living thing. Dust motes, disturbed by Liora's careful breath, swirled in the narrow beams of torchlight spearing the gloom. She held the parchment fragment – her fragment, found tucked behind a crumbling mortar line in the Annals of the Silent Kings section – with reverence bordering on fear. Its symbols, unlike the faded ink of the Archive's sanctioned scrolls, glimmered. A faint, internal luminescence, like captured starlight on deep water, pulsed beneath the ancient vellum. It felt warm against her chilled fingertips.
For weeks, guided by fragmented references in restricted elder scripts and a dangerous intuition, she'd searched. The whispers of a prophecy – dismissed as heresy by Master Meryn – spoke of a "Key Unseen," a truth hidden within the Archive, not just recorded by it. And here it was. The final line, revealed only under the specific, flickering torchlight of this isolated chamber, resonated in her bones: "Where the First Word bled, the Last Gate sleeps."
Every scholarly doubt dissolved. This was it. The knowledge coiled within this fragile scrap could unravel the Archive's deepest secrets – perhaps even explain the unsettling tremors and cold spots reported since the incident in Sector Gamma. Relief, potent and heady, washed over her. She pressed the parchment to her chest, feeling its subtle thrum sync with her own racing heart.
Outside the heavy oak door, the corridor lay in profound stillness, broken only by the distant drip of condensation. Yet, beneath the relief, a thin wire of anxiety tightened in her gut. The Archive felt… watched. Ever since the military lockdown, Project Marduk soldiers patrolled corridors never before tread by boots. Their presence was a cold, metallic counterpoint to the warm stone and parchment. Had someone seen her slip into the East Wing after curfew? Had the strange energy of her find somehow tripped a hidden sensor?
"Steady, Liora," she breathed, the words barely disturbing the thick air. The shadows cast by the torches seemed to lean in, listening. Wrapping the precious fragment in soft, undyed leather, she secured it deep within her worn satchel, nestling it beside her commonplace book and stylus. The leather strap felt reassuringly solid against her shoulder as she eased the satchel under her thick scholar's cloak. One last listen: only the hiss of the torches and the frantic drumming within her own ribs. Satisfied, she grasped the cold iron ring of the door.
—
Toren shifted his weight, the leather of his guard's harness creaking softly in the unnerving quiet of the North Corridor. The usual peaceful hush of the Archive's night watch had been shattered three days ago. Now, tension vibrated in the very stones. Project Marduk patrols moved with grim efficiency, their black uniforms stark against the ancient tapestries depicting forgotten triumphs. He adjusted the grip on his short-hafted watch-axe, its polished head catching the flickering torchlight. His duty was the sanctity of the knowledge within, but now that duty felt tangled with the cold pragmatism of the soldiers.
A sound, almost imperceptible, cut through the low murmur of distant patrols: the distinct, oiled click of the East Wing reading room door unlocking, followed by a muffled, quickly stifled gasp. Too light for Archivist Borin's heavy tread, too purposeful for a lost novice. He melted deeper into the alcove shadow, breath held.
Peering around the worn stone corner, he saw her: Liora. Her face, pale in the torchlight, was etched with a potent mix of triumph and fear as she pulled her cloak tightly around her, one hand unconsciously resting on the bulge of her satchel. She glanced furtively down the corridor – awayfrom the apprentice quarters. Toren's frown deepened. The East Wing was strictly off-limits, its contents deemed too volatile even before the breach. What was she doing there?
He stepped from the shadows, his movement silent on the worn flagstones. "Liora?" His voice was low, barely above a whisper, yet it shattered the fragile silence.
She whirled, hand flying to her hidden satchel, eyes wide with startled guilt. Recognition flashed, followed by a wash of relief that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Toren! I... I thought you were stationed near the Scriptorium tonight." Her voice trembled slightly.
"I was. Rotations changed after… after the incident." He kept his gaze steady, noting the way her fingers tightened on the satchel strap. "It's past the new curfew, Liora. Why are you here?" His eyes flickered pointedly towards the East Wing door. "That section is sealed. By order of Master Meryn and Commander Kernov."
Liora bit her lip, looking trapped. She glanced down the corridor again, as if expecting soldiers to materialize. The conviction he knew so well warred with fear on her face. "I couldn't sleep," she admitted, the words tumbling out in a hushed rush. "Not with… everything. The tremors, the cold spots. There are references, Toren. Old ones. Whispers of… of protections failing. Of things waking. I had to check something in the Silent Kings' annex. I found…" She trailed off, her gaze dropping to her satchel, then snapping back to his, fierce and pleading. "I found something. Something important."
Toren studied her face, the familiar lines of his friend overlaid with a desperate urgency he'd never seen. He trusted Liora's mind, her dedication, far more than he trusted the cold efficiency of Project Marduk or Master Meryn's brittle control. The Archive felt wrong, tainted, since the artifact arrived. If Liora sensed a threat within its own walls… "Walk with me," he murmured, his decision made. He gestured away from the main thoroughfares, towards a disused study nook tucked behind a towering cosmology case. "Somewhere quieter. Tell me what you found."
—
Master Meryn's private office felt less like a sanctuary and more like a cage. The scent of aged paper and beeswax polish usually soothed him; now it felt cloying, thick with unspoken dread. He paced before the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, their contents suddenly seeming less like wisdom and more like sleeping vipers. Three days. Three days since the Omega Breach, since Sector G's servers bled cuneiform into their code, since the air in the lower vaults tasted of copper and static. Three days since Aris Thorne, his former star curator, vanished into Project Marduk custody, silver veins crawling beneath his skin.
And now this. Scholar Liora. Granted access to the Annals of the Silent Kings for linguistic analysis – a routine task, or so he'd thought. But her focused intensity, her lingering in restricted sections after the breach… reports had reached him. Whispers of her obsession with the so-called "Vault Prophecies," texts deemed apocryphal at best, dangerous delusions at worst. Texts that spoke of "Eldest Words" and "Sleeping Gates."
A sharp rap at the door. "Enter."
Kael, his sharp-faced apprentice, slipped in, holding a slip of cheap pulp paper, incongruous amidst the vellum and parchment. "Master Meryn," he breathed, bowing hastily. "The East Wing door sensor… it registered an entry. Ten minutes ago. After curfew."
Meryn's blood ran cold. He snatched the paper. No official log stamp, just a scrawled note in Kael's hand: East Wing Access – Lv 3 Credentials – LIORA. Underlined twice. The credentials were hers, assigned for the Annals project. The East Wing was strictly off-limits, its unstable magics and volatile texts deemed too risky amidst the current chaos. What was she after? The prophecy fragments? Something worse?
"Something amiss, Master?" Kael asked, his voice tight with apprehension.
Meryn crumpled the paper in his fist, the faded ink staining his palm. "That girl," he hissed, the words tasting like ash. "Her curiosity borders on recklessness. In times like these…" He trailed off, the image of Thorne's silver-veined hand flashing in his mind. Knowledge was power, yes, but some doors, once opened, could not be closed. "With me, Kael." His voice was steel. "We find out what Scholar Liora sought in the dark."
He strode from the office, Kael scrambling in his wake. The torch-lit corridors seemed narrower, the shadows deeper. As they neared the junction leading to the East Wing, the distant, rhythmic tread of a Project Marduk patrol echoed – a grim reminder of the new power within the Archive's ancient walls. Meryn's jaw clenched, resolve hardening into something colder, sharper. He would protect the Archive's secrets, even from its own. Especially now. He reached for the heavy latch of the corridor leading towards Liora's last known location, his knuckles white.