The High Cathedral sat atop the city like a crown made of bone. It was a massive structure of white marble, constantly bathed in the artificial yellow glare of twenty Light Towers.
For Elara and Miri, standing in the shadows of a gargoyle across the street, it looked less like a church and more like a fortress.
"The Shadow oil," Elara whispered. She pulled a small vial from her belt. The liquid inside was thick and smelled like damp earth and old iron. She smeared a line across Miri's forehead and then her own.
As the oil touched her skin, Miri felt a strange, muffled sensation, as if she had stepped underwater.
The constant hum of the city's lamps faded into a dull vibration. To the mechanical eyes of the towers, they were now nothing more than cold patches of air.
We have twenty minutes before the oil dries and the towers see us," Elara said, her hand resting on the grip of her handgun. "We don't fight and don't speak. If a guard looks at you, you look at the floor. You are a ghost for twenty minutes, Miri, act like it."
They crossed the open plaza. The marble floor was polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the sterile yellow light.
A squad of spark guards marched past, their heavy caps snapping in the wind. One guard paused, his helmet turning towards them. Miri held her breath, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
The guard stared right through them. To him, the space they occupied was just an empty patch of moonlight. He continued his patrol.
They reached the side ventilation grate; a narrow iron lattice covered in a fine layer of salt.
Elara pulled a small tool from her kit and began to work on the lock.
"The archives are three levels down," she whispered. "The Null Keys are kept in lead-lined cases/ the lead stops the Resonance, so you will have to feel for them in the dark."
The grate popped open with a soft clack. Elara boosted Miri up into the narrow, dark shaft. The air inside was freezing cold and full of dust.
"I will wait here to guard the exit," Elara said. "Go, find the key. If you see a book with a red seal, don't touch it. That's bleach ink. It will burn your eyes out."
Miri crawled through the ventilation duct. It was tight, the metal scraping against her shoulder. She could hear the muffled chanting of priests from the main hall below, a low rhythmic drone that felt like it was trying to lull her to sleep.
She reached a vertical drop. Below her, the archives stretched out in a maze of wooden shelves and iron ladders. Thousands of scrolls and books lay in the dark, many of them glowing with a faint, dying blue light.
This was the memory of the world, stored in a basement.
Miri took out a silk rope and tightly secured it in a spot. She slid down a rope, her feet hitting the stone floor with a soft thud.
She moved through the aisles, her fingers trailing along the shelves.
Suddenly, she stopped. At the end of the hall, standing before a lead-lined cabinet, was a figure in a white robe. It was a scholar, his skin so bleached it was almost blue.
The scholar was talking to himself, his voice a low murmur.
"Twenty-two rods failed this moon…the Ember is hungry. We need a stronger tether. We need the Hearth Guard."
Miri froze behind a shelf. The scholar was looking right at the cabinet that held the Null Keys.
She just realized that the church wasn't just waiting for Kai to die. They were actively trying to kill him.
Miri stayed pressed against the cold stone of the bookshelf. The scholar's words chilled her more than anything.
Twenty-two rods failed…the Ember is hungry. He spoke about human beings like they were spent candles.
The scholar reached into his robe and pulled out a small, glass lens. He held it up to the lead-lined cabinet.
The lens glowed with a faint yellow light, and Miri heard the heavy tumblers of the lock shifting.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
The cabinet doors swung open. Inside, resting on velvet cushions, were three Null keys. They looked like simple iron keys, but they didn't reflect the light. They seemed to absorb it, creating a small hole in the air around them.
The scholar reached for one, but his hand hesitated. He began coughing, a wet, rattling sound that shook his thin frame.
He turned away from the cabinet, leaning against a desk as he fought for breath. This was the side effect reaching his lungs.
'Now,' Miri thought.
She moved with silent fluid grace, which Kai had taught her during the long nights on the road. She stayed low to the ground, her shadow oiled skin making her look like a shifting smudge in the darkness.
She reached the cabinet. Her small hand darted out, her fingers closing around the cold iron of a Null key.
The moment she touched it, the underwater feeling of the shadow oil intensified. The key was a dead zone; it was trying to nullify the very oil that was hiding her.
The scholar stopped coughing. The silence in the archive became absolute.
"Who is there?" the scholar whispered. He didn't turn around yet, but he tilted his head, listening.
"The air…it smells like charcoal and something else."
Miri shoved the key into her pocket. She couldn't go back to the rope; the scholar was in the way.
She looked up and saw a narrow book lift, a small wooden pulley system used to move scrolls between floors.
"I know you are here, little ghost," the scholar said, turning around.
His eyes were milky white, but he wasn't looking with sight. He was looking with resonance.
He raised a hand, and a small orb of yellow light flickered into existence.
Miri scrambled into the book lift and pulled the secondary rope. The wooden crate jerked upward just as the scholar's light ball slammed into the shelf she had been standing behind, turning ancient scrolls into ash.
"Guards!" the scholar's voice echoes through the archives. "A thief in the vault! Seal the vents! Ring the bells!"