Chapter 19 #2
“I can see the bottom.” His voice echoes off the stone.
“Almost there.” The cold down here seeps into my bones with a creeping chill that echoes my mounting panic.
We’re so far down, and nobody knows we’re here.
As if knowing where my thoughts have gone, he says, “You’re safe with me.
I’m here. I won’t let anything happen.” Panic claws at my throat, threatening to choke me.
My other hand flies to his arm, gripping it with white-knuckled desperation.
His fingers, which are still interlaced with my other hand, tighten, solid and warm, a lifeline.
“I’m here,’” he murmurs, his voice a low thrum against the suffocating silence.
“Always.” He tugs, pulling me against his solid warmth, wrapping an arm around me.
I nod, squeezing him, breathing through my nose, out through my mouth, just like I was taught.
“Good girl,” he whispers, running a hand over the back of my cloak. “You’re doing well.”
When we finally reach the last step, Anders pulls an old sconce from the wall, using a lighter he has stored in his pocket to light the flame. I don’t even bother asking as my jaw drops.
Walls of impossibly smooth, jet-black obsidian rise around us, scarred with ancient, glowing carvings that pulse faintly, like a sleeping heartbeat.
The ceiling soars, lost in shadows. The floor, an expanse of polished, dark marble, reflects the torchlight like still water, broken only by a single, massive carving at its center.
A monolithic altar of dark, unpolished stone dominates the chamber’s heart, stained with time, bearing faint, faded etchings of symbols I don’t recognize, yet feel hauntingly familiar.
Colossal statues, easily double Anders’ height, tower around the edges.
They depict figures with elongated limbs and eyes carved from luminous crystal, their expressions serene yet unnerving.
The air here is heavy with the scent of forgotten magic, buzzing faintly against my skin.
I don’t know what I expected to find, but my breath hitches. This is more than something. This is everything.
“There,” Anders murmurs, pointing to a hidden door on the far wall, almost invisible against the obsidian.
He holds the torch in his right hand, my hand clutched in his left.
When we push it open, a cloud of ancient, stale air washes over us.
I nearly sob with relief, not just from escaping the cold, but from the sight before us.
There’s a long room filled with dusty shelves that looks abandoned and hasn’t been touched for half a century since the new temple was constructed.
Candles, dishes, cleaning supplies… We continue along the wall, Anders sticking to my side.
I swipe my finger over one of the wooden shelves, and it comes away with a thick coating of dust. We find another section of vases and altar cloths, and then beside it, a massive painting of the gods. It looks old, the paint peeling from the canvas. I sigh and turn to him.
“Nothing.” He steps closer, as I step back.
There’s that same look in his eye that makes me want to surge up onto my toes and lay claim to his mouth.
Another step back makes my shoulders connect with the painting, and it shifts.
The way he’s looking at me makes my mouth water, but then a breeze hits the back of my neck.
I turn, just as he says, “It’s a passage.” My head swings back to him, then to the wooden door just behind the painting. Behind it, I can feel a strong pulse of energy, just like I do on all the planets—yet it feels more concentrated.
I inhale sharply. “Anders, I feel—”
“Yeah. Me too.” He’s at my side in an instant, removing the painting from the wall. The thing has to be heavy; it’s at least twelve feet tall, and the frame is pure oak. He doesn’t even grunt or break a sweat.
My gaze falls back to the handle, which is a small iron ring. I notice the slight tremble of my hand as I reach for it, the flow of energy getting stronger. I lift the ring, turning it slightly, and the door pops open with a rush of dusty air and an eerie howl.
Anders and I both cough, waving away the dust, and when it clears, I can’t fight the grin that spreads across my face.
Inside the doorway is a vast, circular room, its walls lined floor-to-ceiling with row upon row of dusty, ancient shelves.
This isn’t a storage closet. This is an archive.
I spin, taking in the room. There are so many books.
Books, books, and more books. And then tubes of scrolls. I huff out a laugh and turn to Anders.
“Is it wrong to say I want to take them all home?” He shakes his head.
“They have to stay, but we have the whole day if we need it.”
Hours and more than half the books later, I sit back on a wobbly stool and sigh.
So far, we’ve found lineage books, writing in languages even Anders hasn’t seen, books on medicines and weather patterns, temple practices, priestess accounts, a journal, and a log of visitors.
I give up on the books and search through the tubes of scrolls.
Some are standing upright, while others are on their sides.
I begin pulling them out, feeling a little overwhelmed by how many there are, but when I find a mysterious-looking one wrapped in some sort of casing, Anders is immediately at my side.
I pause, looking around, half expecting soldiers to come rushing in. “What?”
He studies the scroll in my hands before reaching for it.
“May I?” he asks. I nod and hand it over.
He returns to the desk we’ve been huddled over at the center of the room and clears a space to unroll it.
My breath lodges in my throat, and my head spins when the parchment begins to unravel, revealing an old text.
But it’s the way a wind sweeps through the room—completely unnatural and impossible—that has me stepping closer to Anders.
Anders runs his fingers over the text with pure awe. “I can read this,” he claims, his voice rough with disbelief. “Raea, listen.”
I step closer, studying the weird markings etched into the leather.
The words he reads are not in the common language; they’re ancient, breathy, and make the hairs on my arms stand, and at the same time, feel a weight settle in my bones.
As he reads, my body tingles, like my blood has been replaced with bubbly water.
My shoulders roll uncomfortably before the words transition, filling my mind with understanding.
I hear them, understand them, not in the way I’d expect—but directly in my head.
They start bleeding into my mind, bypassing sense.
They settle in the hollow of me like a truth I never asked for.
“The veil was insufficiently empowered, prompting each family to take action as time diminished.
Males and females, alongside their children, voluntarily relinquished their lifeforce to enhance the veil, thereby sacrificing their immortal existence to ensure the continuity of their bloodlines.
The youth aged rapidly, with some disintegrating entirely, transitioning instantaneously into the aether.
All participants offered their contributions willingly. "
Anders’ voice trails off, the last word hanging heavy in the cold air of the chamber. A strange nausea slams into me, forcing my head to hang, my mouth watering. It feels as if I’ve just taken a blow to the stomach. I muffle a cry as my stomach grips tighter.
He keeps reading, “Upon the departure of the last immortals, the gods entered the veil, forfeiting their own mortality and corporeal forms, thus leaving humanity as the sole representatives of the three councils.”
Anders makes a low sound next to me, a sound of staggered surprise. He grips his head. “The empire remained the last of its kind within the system, as all trade and travel to Auralan had ceased...”
The words keep coming. I can’t breathe.
“When the moment arrived for the transition into individual kingdoms, the emperor entered the veil, uniting with his family in the aether. Consequently, Einvald would be sealed, safeguarding everything that remained...”
I choke on a breath. My vision narrows.
“Only the heirs of the restored lifeblood may return to this realm once more.”
Silence.
The words fade. But the weight of them doesn’t. I gasp, bent at the waist, eyes stinging with tears I don’t remember forming.
Anders groans, grabbing his head, fighting something as he leans over the table. The knowledge burns into me, a profound hum deep in my core. Seconds pass, but it feels like an eternity.
When the nausea subsides, all traces of pain vanish. I remain panting over the scroll, trying to regain myself. Anders’ hand runs up my spine. “You okay?” he asks, breathless.
I nod, my mouth still watering, but I stand to look at him, scrubbing at my eyes. All around me, in me, under me, life and power exist. I see an invisible power like lines drifting out of the room. When I glance back at the scroll, an invisible current hums through my veins.
“Anders!” My hands tremble against the cool table. “I can read it.” Elvisiah—I feel the words more than hear them.
He studies me, then the scroll, still rubbing at his temples. “Your magic.” His eyes go wide. “Your aura, it’s…different.” My face scrunches as I look him over; he doesn’t look well. His typically tanned skin now appears pale.
“What’s wrong?” He shakes his head, taking a seat and breathing deeply. After a moment, he opens his eyes, scanning the room. I’ve never seen him look so unnerved before.
“Can you hear it?” he asks, his voice tight. “The hum. It’s...the veil. It’s screaming.” He stands, walking to the wall behind me, where several old artifacts lie scattered. I’ve already looked them over and found nothing of importance.
“A book on the gods...” He pulls an old tome from the very bottom shelf, its cover old and tattered, with a deep hole in the center. “Grab this.” He holds out the book.
I rush to his side, grabbing the hefty tome and set it on the table beside the scroll.
I still can’t believe I can read the scroll, and now I want to check every book here.
The book’s cover is soft, dark green leather, and around the edge of the hole, tarnished bronze vines and a tree stump design wind around the hole at the center.
Behind me, he’s searching shelves again, then moves out to the other room, searching the shelves full of artifacts.
I hear clanking and shuffling, my mind spinning, then he’s coming back through the door with hurried steps, holding what looks like an oval paperweight.
It’s a milk-white disk. I almost ask how he knows it belongs, but when he places the disc into the hole, the book transforms.
The disc glows with a vibrant blue and sinks, settling into place as the edges close the gaps, holding it in place.
The disk illuminates, as if looking through a window, to another place, another time.
There’s a sky with a different set of moons, but it’s the radiant trees glowing to the left that tell me this place isn’t in our system.
The locks on the book I hadn’t noticed before spring open with a click. My heart races as Anders turns to me.
“Are you sure you want the answers? Because I’m positive we’re about to get a lot more than we asked for.” I nod, even though deep down, I don’t know.