The archives had never felt so heavy.
Every stone in the long hall seemed to press down on Kaelen as he slid another scroll back into its niche. He wiped his hands on his robe and steadied his breathing. The faint hiss of his serpent lingered at the edge of his senses, urging caution.
She would return. He knew it.
The young woman with the pale-blue robes and calm eyes hadn't simply wandered in by chance. The way she'd moved, the easy familiarity with the shelves—this was her ground. He was the intruder.
That thought gnawed at him as he slipped out into the night.
For two nights he avoided the archives altogether, feigning exhaustion during training, stumbling deliberately during drills. Joren had laughed loud enough for the yard to hear, calling him dead weight. The sting of those words was nothing; the sneers were masks that covered the silence he cultivated.
But each night, Kaelen's thoughts circled back to the glow of that lantern. To the possibility of a gaze falling on him when he least expected it.
By the third night, curiosity overrode fear.
The wards shimmered faintly as he slipped through the side entrance again, timing his step with the guards' lazy rounds. The air smelled of paper and oil, exactly as before. He walked softer than a shadow, serpent coiled tight within the Soul Palace.
And there—again—the glow of a lantern.
She was there, seated cross-legged at a low table, a scroll spread before her. This time, Kaelen stayed farther back, ducked low between shelves.
Her face was half-lit by the lantern flame. Fine-boned, lips pressed in concentration, her eyes scanning the text line by line with steady patience. She did not hurry, did not steal glances at the door. She was at home here.
Kaelen risked the faintest stir of his Insight. Threads of light shimmered faintly around her fingers as she traced the text, patterns revealing themselves to him. His breath caught—she was not just reading. She was testing the meridians described, moving her Qi subtly along her arms as if cross-checking the flows.
A scholar… and a practitioner.
The serpent stirred, pressing him forward. He resisted, forcing himself to remain still. One misstep, one flare of Qi, and she would notice. And yet, he couldn't look away.
Minutes stretched.
Finally, she sighed, rolling up the scroll with deliberate care. She placed it back, picked up her lantern, and paused.
Her gaze drifted down the aisle—his aisle.
Kaelen pressed his back to the shelves, silent as stone. The flame from her lantern wavered, brushing faint light across the floorboards near his boots. He held his breath until the serpent within him curled tight as a knot.
Then, just as quickly, the light shifted away. Her steps receded, soft and measured, until the faint echo of the door closing left him alone again.
Only then did Kaelen breathe. His palms were damp, his heartbeat sharp in his throat.
That was too close.
He left early that night, no scrolls in hand, only questions.
Who was she? Why here, night after night? And why had she not called out, not alerted the patrols, when she must have sensed something?
The thought unsettled him. A threat was easier when it was sharp and visible. This was different: a knife hidden, its wielder silent.
The following day, training resumed. Joren strutted across the yard, flame serpent rising behind him in a coiled blaze, its scales brighter than ever. The elders watched from a distance, nodding approval.
Kaelen fell in with the others, keeping his serpent's faint shadow tucked away, hidden. He watched Joren strike, shout, boast—and saw the cracks widening. Some disciples cheered, but others muttered. Arrogance was a brittle crown.
For once, Kaelen felt almost invisible. The perfect condition.
When training ended, he lingered near the edge of the yard, watching disciples disperse. That was when he saw her.
The same pale-blue robes. She walked in step with two other disciples, speaking quietly, carrying no lantern this time but a stack of scrolls tied with ribbon. She didn't look his way, didn't hesitate. Yet Kaelen felt a prickle down his spine, as if her eyes had brushed over him all the same.
That night, Kaelen returned again.
This time, he didn't go near the shelves. He stayed in the shadow of the entryway, watching. Sure enough, her lantern's glow soon appeared. She sat as before, unrolling a scroll, her face calm in the flickering light.
He studied her from afar, measuring the faint shimmer of her Qi as her Insight worked—different from his, but deliberate, learned.
His serpent shifted restlessly, whispering temptation. To draw closer. To observe. To steal.
But Kaelen only turned away. Not tonight. Not yet.
Patience had built everything he had. It would not fail him now.
By the fifth night, a rhythm had formed. She arrived. She studied. She left. Kaelen mirrored, a shadow behind the shelves.
But then the pattern broke.
She lingered longer, the lantern's flame low. When she finally rose to leave, she did not walk to the door. She stepped down his aisle, quiet as a breath, her eyes fixed forward.
Kaelen's chest tightened. He pressed himself back, every muscle rigid.
She stopped only a few paces away. Her lantern lifted, light brushing over the shelves, the floor, the space between. Her eyes narrowed—not at him directly, but at the faint air where the wards shimmered.
Then, softly, she spoke.
"You hide well."
The words were barely above a whisper, but they struck like thunder.
Kaelen's serpent hissed, coiled to strike, but he held it still. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
She lowered the lantern slightly, her face unreadable in the glow.
"But you're not the only one who values silence."
With that, she turned, walking back down the aisle. The lantern bobbed once, twice, then faded as the door closed behind her.
Kaelen remained frozen long after she left. His breath came sharp, his body tense. She had known all along.
And she had chosen to say nothing.
The next morning, Kaelen stood in the training yard, his expression calm as ever. Joren was already boasting, flame serpent blazing, disciples gathered in forced admiration.
But Kaelen's mind wasn't on Joren today. It was on the girl with the lantern. On the choice she had made.
To let him live in shadow.
And on what that meant.