Chapter 8 #2
Rhea and Suzumi snickered beside Draven, letting out ooo’s and ahh’s. Atlas chuckled, setting the parchment back down on the desk and removing the brass spectacles from his head, cleaning them with the hem of his shirt.
“After Astralis fell in love,” he continued, “he is said to have done a number of different things. But perhaps the most prominent—and the one I am most fascinated by—are the texts claiming he gifted the woman who captured his heart with the power of the very stars themselves. That the woman then used that power to end the Great Clamaté War and bring peace to the lands. That the gods then grew jealous of their love and, with the help of a mortal, broke their love apart.”
Draven tilted his head. “You don’t believe the stories are true,” he deduced, finally placing the subtle undercurrent of emotion that had been sweeping around Atlas’s words.
“I think the stories were written to change the narrative of what truly happened,” he corrected, the fire in his eyes intensifying to something ravenous. His passion for this was alive on his skin, and it sharpened the air around them.
“That’s what his book is about,” Suzumi supplied. “He thinks something is off about the story of Astralis and Sitara. Thinks someone else was more involved than the history books report, and that we are missing vital pieces of the real story.”
“Sitara?” Draven questioned, not recognizing the name.
“The woman’s name,” Rhea answered, though with a bit more attitude than Draven cared for.
How was he supposed to know that?
He wrinkled his nose at her before returning his attention to Atlas, who was patiently waiting for Draven’s regained focus before continuing.
“Without going too much further into it—because if I did, I fear I would leave you more confused than anything else—I noticed discrepancies in a lot of the less popular older texts. Books and journals that made it through the ages, documenting their personal accounts of history. Most of these texts grew to be unpopular because they were ridiculed as heretical, resulting in most of them being outcast or just banned altogether.”
Draven frowned at that. “I’d think it dangerous to ban knowledge scribed in books. None of us were there” —he paused, dipping into his memory to recall the timeline— “four centuries ago. Who can say what is and is not accurate?”
“Precisely,” Atlas agreed. “Which is exactly why I started to seek each and every one of those books out.” He smiled wryly, revealing a small dimple in his left cheek.
“Luckily, I’m able to do this under the guise of being a mere bookshop owner whose upper floor is dedicated to displaying rarer texts, so it’s never caused much trouble.
My goal is to read through all the books I’ve acquired over the years, piece together all the scattered fragments of history, and compile my own timeline of events.
To discover the truth of both the gods and the Great Clamaté War. ”
Draven would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a swell of passion in his chest while listening to Atlas. He was radiating with an electrified energy, and for whatever reason, as Draven listened, he found himself wanting to somehow be a part of it. To join him on his quest for truth.
At least the wide-eyed stares of both Rhea and Suzumi made a lot more sense now.
This was only the first time he had ever heard of this—had been privileged to listen to Atlas speak with such passion for his work.
He could only imagine how both protective and dedicated he would feel if he had been with him from the start.
“Have you found all the books you need?” Draven asked, curious how far along in his goal he was.
Atlas grunted, placing his brass spectacles back on his face. “Not quite, unfortunately. I fear there are some records I’ll never have access to.”
Draven wrinkled his brow. “Why not?”
Atlas ran a hand through his hair, leaving black smudges on the ends of the strands.
“Because they are in Bathara’s famed library, protected and guarded.
Mostly I can do without, but there is this one book—one that was only briefly mentioned in a recovered journal I have, belonging to a former Diviner who worked for the Vivaldri royal line.
I believe it would make all the difference.
Allegedly, according to the late Diviner’s journal, this book tells the story of the events surrounding the Great Clamaté War in its entirety.
The author is unknown, but it is virtually without any official record.
Based on outside research I’ve conducted, I believe the story is now simply chalked up to be some work of fiction—a myth. ”
“Yet it remains secured in Bathara’s walls?” Draven pondered aloud.
Atlas’s smile was toying with the appearance of pride. “My thoughts exactly. Still,” he said, “it is the one book which could make everything fall into place. ”
“And it is the one book he can never obtain,” Suzumi said through a dramatic sigh, cupping her hands together and pressing them against her cheek.
This must also be a frequent conversation for them.
Atlas chuckled, a look of mischief twinkling in his eye.
Without warning, he waltzed over to her and swooped her into the air, twirling her around.
Suzumi laughed, and Rhea leapt up on her father to join in on the fun, crawling up his back and hooking her arms around his neck as he spun Suzumi round and round.
Draven watched, a feeling of discomfort rising in him. He felt separated from them by an invisible wall. Standing before them, yet worlds away.
The giggles ceased, and Atlas returned Suzumi to the floor while Rhea slid down his back. “So,” Atlas chirped, clapping his hands together. “About that dinner.”