When the Gods Fall, I Will Rise
Chapter 3: The Silent Oath
An unsettling stillness enveloped the library after her ominous warning, wrapping around us like a thick, suffocating fog. Dust motes danced lazily in the golden shafts of light filtering through grimy windows, the only sign of movement in the heavy silence that pressed down upon us. The muted rustle of loose parchment whispered my anxiety, while the faint tremor of my breath was the only thing that dared disturb the quiet. Her gaze remained locked onto mine piercing and unyielding, sharp like the edge of a dagger tracing the minutest twitch of my fingers, as if she knew that even the smallest movement could hint at a hidden threat, a spark of rebellion itching to break free.
"I asked you a question," she finally spoke, her voice steady and deliberate. Each word emerged from her lips like a carefully forged weapon, and yet beneath that polished composure lay an undercurrent of tension, tightly coiled like a spring that was ready to explode at any moment.
I swallowed hard, struggling to moisten the dryness that had taken residence in my throat. The arcane mark on my arm emitted a faint, rhythmic pulse, its presence becoming more pronounced under her intense scrutiny. "You said it doesn't belong to me," I ventured, wrapping my fingers around my arm almost protectively. "Then who does it belong to?"
Her lips pressed tightly together, briefly caught in a moment of contemplation that hinted at the tumultuous thoughts churning beneath her composed exterior. At last, she raised her chin defiantly, her expression difficult to decipher, a blend of wisdom and caution. "To no one," she stated firmly. "And that is precisely the danger inherent in the mark you bear."
I opened my mouth to probe deeper, to question her cryptic declarations further, but before the words could form, she took a bold step toward me, erasing the distance between us. The dim illumination cast by the crystal lights caught the contours of her face, revealing a delicate beauty marred by the weight of unspoken burdens no apprentice scholar should ever be tasked to bear. Her demeanor embodied authority, regal yet restrained, and though her robes were plain and devoid of embellishment, they spoke volumes of the intentional mystery she shrouded herself in.
"What is your name?" she inquired, the query seeming simple on the surface, yet imbued with an urgency that made it resonate deeply within me. It felt as if she were peeling back the layers of my existence, searching for the truth that lay buried in the substratum of my very being.
For a moment, I hesitated, caught in the reverie of my past. Once, I had been stripped of my name and identity, rendered invisible under the cruel reign of the Thrones who sought to control me. In this new existence, however, names held power and significance, serving as anchors that tethered us to the world around us and to the core of our own identities.
"…Kazuki," I offered at last, the name escaping my lips with a weight that felt both liberating and heavy.
Her keen eyes bore into mine, searching for something I could not name—genuine connection, or perhaps fear? After what felt like an eternity of silence, she repeated my name softly, letting it roll off her tongue as if she were test-driving its power. A slight nod followed, though the suspicion lingering in her expression did not dissipate. "Then remember this, Kazuki. Whatever binds you to that mark will demand more from you than you are prepared to give. And if you allow yourself to falter under its weight, you will not be the only one to suffer for it. Others will be dragged down alongside you."
Her warning struck me with unexpected force, igniting painful memories of the world's last cataclysm. Vivid images flooded my mind—mighty cities reduced to smoldering ash, grand empires collapsing beneath the unrelenting roar of divine wrath. I could still hear the haunting cries of the dying mingling with the ghostly silence left behind for those forgotten. I remembered the moment when the sky had shattered above us, an ocean of fire raining down in judgment. I had fallen then, impotent and cowering under the sheer weight of despair, witnessing countless souls plummet with me—those who had once placed their faith in my supposed strength.
This time, I swore to myself, it would not be the same.
"I will not fall," I declared, my voice ringing with more conviction than I intended, sharp-edged like a shard of broken glass.
Her gaze flickered with an almost imperceptible softness for an instant before hardening once more with resolve. "We shall see," she replied, enigmatic as ever.
Just as I opened my mouth to offer a retort or seek further elucidation, a subtle groan elicited from the ancient library doors echoed through the vast chamber, shattering our intense exchange. Both our heads snapped reflexively toward the source of the sound, tension coiling in the air as shadows began to coalesce beyond the entrance. Heavy, deliberate footsteps approached, slow and unhurried, the intruders emanating an aura of confidence that suggested they believed they had all the time in the world.
The girl's demeanor transformed instantly; her expression hardened into one of fierce caution. Moving with practiced stealth, she retreated into the cloaking shadow of a nearby towering shelf, her hand brushing quietly against the hidden folds of her robe as she whispered urgently, "Stay silent."
Nervously, I tightened my own grip around the nameless book that had become my lifeline in this chaotic world, forcing myself to steady the rapid thump of my heart.
From the murky depths of the entrance hall, three figures stepped into the dim light, their garments deep crimson cloaks trailing behind them, embroidered with a crest that depicted a crown encircled by nine thorns—an unmistakable sigil of the Thrones. Their faces concealed by flowing veils, the oppressive aura radiating from them was palpable, a heavy weight that settled around us.
Throne Enforcers.
Even before a single word escaped their lips, I could feel their presence wrap around me like iron chains, a visceral reminder of oppressive power. Memories surged back, revealing the dark history of these relentless hunters who had prowled through every age, the eyes and blades of the Nine tasked not with the pursuit of justice, but with maintaining their iron grip over all.
The leader of the Enforcers, towering and imposing above the others, let his voice reverberate through the chamber. "We have received reports of an unauthorized awakening."
His words hung heavily in the air, an ominous portent that sent a shiver down my spine as I braced myself for the confrontation that was about to unfold.
The words that emerged sent an icy shiver racing down my spine, evoking an instinctual fear. They had recognized it—the unmistakable surge of the Throne's mark that now branded my skin. It was likely they had sensed its presence the very moment my fingers brushed against the pages of the ancient book that lay hidden beneath the folds of my cloak.
In the dim light of the library, the girl lingered in the shadows, as silent and unmoving as stone. Yet, despite her stillness, her gaze remained locked onto mine with a fierce intensity that left no room for uncertainty or retreat.
I fought to steady my breath, willing calmness to seep into my racing heart as I took a hesitant step forward, the forbidden tome carefully tucked away within the fabric of my cloak. "What do you mean?" I inquired, mustering my best impression of a confused scholar, feigning innocence in the face of this ominous revelation. "This is the library, after all. The only awakenings that take place here are those of forgotten words, relics of the past yearning to be rediscovered."
The leader's head tilted ever so slightly, as if weighing my words, his unseen gaze sweeping over me like a predator sizing up its prey. The two Enforcers flanking him moved between the towering shelves, their predatory instincts honed, circling me with all the finesse of hunters stalking their quarry. The atmosphere thickened with tension, a silence pregnant with unspoken threats.
"You reek of it," the leader stated bluntly, his voice a dispassionate rasp that bore the weight of authority. "The taint of something that should not exist in this world. I want you to show me your arm."
At his command, the mark on my skin throbbed violently, a searing reminder of the power it contained, mocking me with each pulse.
For the briefest of moments, I contemplated the idea of defiance, the tempting thought of refusing his request. But deep down, I understood that such an act would only hasten my demise, and I could not afford to die here—I needed time. Time to untangle the complexities of the Throne's influence, time to stave off a catastrophe that threatened to ensnare us all.
Just as my mind raced through potential escape plans, the girl stepped forward from the cloak of shadows, her movements surprisingly bold. She carried a calm demeanor, her voice strong and unwavering as she declared, "He is with me."
In an instant, the Enforcers froze, their attention redirecting towards her, expressions laden with surprise and disbelief reflected in their rigid postures.
"And you are?" the leader asked, his curiosity now tinged with a hint of skepticism.
"Liora," she replied, her name cutting through the tense atmosphere with an authority that was hard to ignore. It hit the air with a weighty finality. "I am the apprentice to Scholar Venareth of the High Council."
This assertion fell heavily in the space between us, like a stone plunging into a tranquil pond, sending ripples of recognition spreading through the minds of those present. Even I was aware of Venareth—one of the most revered scholars of our time, known far and wide for possessing wisdom that rivaled even the divine decrees of ages past. To claim apprenticeship under such a towering intellectual figure was akin to wielding a shield of untouchable authority.
The two Enforcers exchanged quick, uneasy glances, their silence confirming the weight of her words. After a moment of palpable hesitation, the leader offered a slight nod, conceding for the moment. "If what you say is true, then this matter is beyond our jurisdiction, and we should not interfere. But heed my warning, child: if you choose to shield him, you also choose to share his fate. Should he slip, you will plunge with him into the abyss."
"I am aware," Liora replied, her tone cool and unwavering, her gaze never faltering under the weight of his scrutiny.
A long-held silence ensued, the tension crackling in the air until, finally, the Enforcers turned their backs, retracing their steps toward the exit. With deliberate strides, their crimson cloaks billowed behind them like rivers of blood, disappearing into the dim recesses of the night beyond.
Even after they had vanished, the echo of the closing door lingered, an unsettling reminder of the confrontation that had just unfolded.
My shoulders sagged in relief, yet I clutched the book tightly, as if it were a lifeline. Turning to Liora, my mind stumbled over the words I wished to say. "You… why did you—"
She interrupted me, her gaze fierce with an intensity that demanded attention. "Do not mistake this act as an expression of trust. I saved you because I need answers. That mark on your arm, the book you possess, and indeed, you yourself—all are threads woven into a tapestry far grander and more dangerous than either of us can presently comprehend. If I am to survive the darkness that is quickly approaching, I cannot afford to ignore them."
Her words resonated deeply within me, striking a chord of understanding as I realized she too had perceived the ominous shape of the storm gathering on the horizon, its shadows creeping closer.
I nodded slowly, my mind awash in the weight of her unvoiced pact. "Then let us seek the answers together."
For a fleeting moment, the fierce edge in her gaze softened, and she extended her hand toward me. I grasped it gently, feeling the faint shiver of her pulse beneath her skin—this was not a sign of weakness but rather an affirmation of shared resolve.
In that quiet grip, an unspoken oath was forged, binding us in a silent promise of unity against the trials that lay ahead.
The mark upon my arm throbbed anew, but this time, it felt different. It was no longer merely a burden or a cursed brand; it had transformed into something more profound.
A call—one I sensed pulsating with urgency and significance.
And I was determined to respond.