Chapter 50 Oaths and Occult #2
“Not all of them,” he says slowly. “But when they’re strong, I can.”
“That’s why you messaged me this afternoon?” While he and Kai went to see if they could find hard copies of my records, Lochlan and I practiced a new shielding technique that was meant to silence my emotions. Instead, it magnified them.
Daire nods at the same time his crystal link blares. He frowns as he reads the message.
“Everything okay?” Holden asks, stepping into the library with a book pinned beneath his elbow.
“Karraelas wants to meet,” Daire says.
I know he trusts Karraelas, but that does little to diminish the uncertainty that stirs in my chest every time one of them leaves Mysthaven.
Daire takes a step closer, cupping my face in his warm palm. He leans down, kissing me with an urgency and desire that has my toes curling. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I watch him leave before turning to Holden. I’ve barely seen him in the two days since Scarlet brought that book of ancient prophecies.
“Have you heard the term Nexus interchanged for Vestra?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I thought we were working on the prophecy?”
“You seemed to be working solo,” I sit up. “Have you been able to find anything?”
He licks his lips. “We believe it’s authentic.” The simple words carry so much weight, my chest squeezes. “We need more information before we can draw definitive conclusions.”
“Where do we start looking?”
Holden’s gaze holds mine for a long moment. “I want to show you something.” He withdraws a necklace from his pocket, a gold chain with what appears to be a pearl pendant hanging from the center.
My breath catches in my throat as my heart sprints.
“Nullite is in the center of it,” he explains. “I’ve been working on the design all week. I’m hoping it’s enough to dampen a potential bond without weakening you. We’ll be in tight quarters for a few minutes.”
Annoyance shields my hurt. I’m not sure I want to imprint on him, but I’m more annoyed that he clearly doesn’t want me to.
It’s a confusing and maddening tangle of emotions that I try to avoid thinking about.
I fasten the necklace, moving the charm to rest high on my chest. “I could go get a training shirt.”
Holden shakes his head. “It’s enough.” He extends his hand, offering to help me up, but I don’t accept, wrapping my fingers around the codex as I stand.
He leads me through the house, through Edmond’s office, and the connecting door into his own.
“I come in here all the time. I don’t—”
Holden’s eyes laugh, though his mouth barely moves. “Few things are ever as they seem.” He closes the door, and the space darkens to pitch.
I hold my breath, trying to decipher if this is a joke or a test. If he’s going to strangle me.
He clears his throat, and a small orb of light appears before he presses a palm against a section of the far shelf.
A seam appears between them, and he pulls it forward, revealing a staircase descending into darkness.
“It’s narrow,” he explains, before creating a second orb of light.
With a casual wave of his hand, it floats to me.
“What’s down there?”
“Not a torture dungeon.”
“That wasn’t what I was thinking.” Not precisely, anyway.
Something shifts in his expression—not quite a smile. “I’ll go first.”
The stairs are narrow, and winding, worn stone that look too old for the house.
The air grows cooler, tinged with the scents of old paper and something earthy as our footsteps echo off the last steps.
“My father was an archivist, and this was where he kept his collection,” Holden explains.
My breath leaves me as I peer around the circular chamber lined with bookshelves from floor to ceiling.
A large table dominates the center, its surface embedded with what appears to be constellations.
“Edmond and a few others are allowed access to this space. These are Bryxton’s unofficial records. ”
I gaze at the books, many pristine, some aged and cracking, a few so old they look handwritten.
Holden watches me. Eventually, I meet his gaze. “What are the records about?”
“Prophecies. Laws. Prisoners. Charms.” He lifts a shoulder. “Secrets.”
I’m speechless, unsure what he’s saying. What he’s not saying.
Holden walks across the space, muttering a string of words before pressing his hand against the spine of a book that looks completely innocuous. Behind me, the arch to the stairwell seals, and the shelves in front of Holden shift outward, revealing a second arch that opens into a much larger space.
He turns to face me. “This is my private archive. Only the Vestra knows this place exists.” He gives me a meaningful stare, one I don’t recognize and can’t decipher, proving I don’t know him quite as well as I believed moments ago.
My heart drums. “How many secret rooms exist here?”
A smirk teases the corners of his lips. “You have to take an oath to enter. One that will bind you to secrecy because the knowledge in here isn’t just information—it’s power, and the binding oath will connect you to this place and its secrets.”
Chills descend the length of my spine.
“You’re going to have to take the necklace off for a moment.”
I do, setting it on a bookshelf.
“Repeat after me,” he instructs. “I, Brielle Breslin, stand at the threshold of knowledge, seeking truth, not power. Understanding, not control.”
I repeat the words, feeling a tingling sensation in my veins.
“What is revealed to me here, I will protect. What is entrusted, I will honor.”
The tingling intensifies with each word, spreading through my body like warm honey.
“Place your palm here,” Holden says, pointing at the book he had touched to open the space. It feels warm beneath my palm, pulsing for several seconds, and then the tingling sensation stops.
“You’re now connected,” Holden says.
“Will I be able to enter if I wear the nullite?”
He nods.
His assurance has me slipping it back on.
Holden’s fingers wrap around mine, and he pushes open the door. “Welcome to the true Archive of Mysthaven.”