Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
I stare at the three large piles of timeworn texts in front of me with annoyance.
I grabbed every history book I could find, returned to retrieve more, and still came up empty-handed. There hasn’t been a single mention of royals in Salaryan’s history.
Trust me, I checked and then double-checked.
The foundation of the wraith attacks, the evolution of prosperous cities within the realm, and an abundance of information on Veils and Noctryns all reside within the rough-edged pages.
But nothing that ever links them to a monarch.
Definitely nothing that correlated a camaraderie between the two.
I went back hundreds of years, and not one king, queen, or even a princeling was mentioned.
Moonlight spills through the arched windows, and a few remaining lamps that haven’t burned out cast a warm glow on the large stained-glass window.
The library is all but abandoned at this hour.
The thick carpet beneath my feet masks the insistent tapping of my foot, my anxiety rushing to the forefront and telling me that I’m missing something.
Something right in front of my face.
My fingers drum across the hardcover of a tome, bound in cracked leather, the cover lacking a title but bearing the crest of Kintoira.
I scan the isolated library, my mind searching for a loophole or overlooked factor.
In the corner, a lone student sits hunched over a table, half covered in shadows as he pores over a manuscript.
Apparently, we both had the same idea. Look for answers while the rest of the world sleeps.
I reach down into my bag, sorting through the contents for the quill that I tossed in the bottom earlier. My fingers graze the edges of what feels like a book.
That’s odd…
I haven’t checked out any books, and the ones I bought are currently sitting beneath my bed.
Carefully, I pull a small, palm-sized book out from the bottom of my bag. I turn it in my hands, but don’t recognize it. The cover is silver, like moonlight, and shimmers as I look it over. The corners are slightly bent, as if it’s cherished and has been read many times.
I slowly open the cover, and a recognizable scent assaults my nostrils, but I can’t pinpoint where I’ve smelled it before.
It’s just familiar.
The first page is blank, with no author’s name or title.
I flip to the next page, and it’s also blank.
I go through page by page, expecting something, but each one is the same as before.
Empty, except for small dark red marks on random pages.
Regardless of how many pages I turn or how closely I look, each one remains the same.
However, they don’t feel empty. They call to me with a heavy weight.
There’s a strain to the pages as if they want to be read.
To be understood.
As if they will reveal their contents once they choose to.
Or it’s earned.
A clock chimes somewhere in the distance, alerting me to the midnight hour.
I’ve been at this all night without success.
I now know exactly what I did at the start of the day.
Unless every book in Kintoira’s archives has been purposely edited to exclude the royals and their affiliations with the Veils, this has been a complete waste of my time.
Closing the odd little book, I tuck it back in my bag, push a few volumes on the table out of the way, and close my eyes for a moment.
I rest my cheek against the cool, worn-down wood.
Exhaustion weighs heavily in my limbs, and my eyes are so tired they hurt.
The sounds and smells of the library quiet my mind, offering a sense of respite.
Delicate pages being turned in the corner, like a soothing hymn.
The steady yet soft tick of a nearby clock, and the fragrance of old parchment and dry ink.
It all creates the perfect symphony for rest.
Until it doesn’t.
Slowly, the air becomes heavy with the coppery scent of blood and something far more nefarious.
A dense forest gradually begins to surround me, one that’s been turned into a battlefield.
Shouts arise in all directions, orders are barked, and war cries bellow.
The sound of armor rushing through the trees and the vibrations of hooves shake the ground as the horses’ charge fall upon me.
An arrow hisses by, narrowly missing my head.
I duck and hide behind the thick trunk of a tree.
No one ever mentions how loud war is.
If it’s not the clash of metal or the screaming, it’s your own heartbeat. I can feel it thudding against my ribs.
Veils wield alongside the Noctryns.
Fire and ice, steel and shadows.
Black blood drips from the tips of swords, and daggers embed into their enemies with calculated coldness.
There’s no room for emotions or fear as the threat to a kingdom is demolished.
Electric currents fly from the palms of a nearby Veil, and another shifts into an indigo-hued harpy, her mouth open on a punishing screech as she rips out the throat of a wraith.
A dark wielder has another wrapped in obsidian shadows, the tendrils tightening around its throat before effectively snapping the decaying head from its shoulders.
It’s absolute madness in every direction.
The Veils alongside the Noctryns are taking no fucking prisoners. They’re extremely outnumbered and still come out swinging.
I grind my teeth as my gaze darts around the battle taking place. I’m in the middle of an all-out clash like a sitting duck.
The sudden smell of decay and sulfur permeates the air, making me try to breathe through my nose instead of my mouth.
I tear my eyes to the side, trying to find where the smell is coming from, when they land on the biggest wraith I’ve ever seen in any textbook.
It’s facing a Noctryn, also one of the largest I’ve seen, but compared to the wraith, he doesn’t stand a chance.
I hold my breath, preparing to see the soldier decimated and feasted upon.
There’s absolutely nothing I can do to help. But I’m not going to just sit here. I pat my thigh, looking for my hidden dagger, but it’s gone. I wouldn’t have forgotten it. Something isn’t right here.
Without hesitation, the cloaked abomination charges and lunges for the warrior, but the Noctryn is faster than I anticipate.
He lands a hit with the hilt of his sword to the back of the wraith’s head.
Regaining its footing, it turns around slowly, the hood falling back to reveal rotting skin and hollow eyes.
It whips its head to the side before opening its razor-filled mouth and screaming in fury.
I instinctively move backward. It’s a living nightmare in the flesh.
The Noctryn tightens the grip on his sword, using the other gloved hand to wave the decaying monster on.
Taunting it. Pissing it off. The wraith descends on the soldier full of rage and force, the ground shaking beneath its charge, cloak snapping behind it in synchronized ferocity.
Without hesitation, the soldier pulls the other sword from his back, raises both as he shifts his weight, and digs his heels into the ground.
I bite my lip and pray harder than I’ve ever prayed before.
It doesn’t escape me that I’m praying for a dark wielder, but between him and the wraith, it’s going to be him.
Every single time.
The moment the wraith is close enough that his mouth is opening to retrieve the soul he thinks he’s owed, the soldier brings down both swords in a brutal, two-handed strike, severing the decomposing head from its body.
My gaze drops as the head slides from its body, rolls across the ground, and stops inches from my feet.
I look back toward the Noctryn.
Dual swords drip black gore as he stands there, watching the decapitated head before raising his helm to stare directly at me. I can’t see anything behind the obsidian visor, but I know without a doubt, regardless of the battle ensuing all around us, his entire focus is now on me.
“Nori… Nori, get up,” a delicate voice says, gently shaking my shoulders. “C’mon… that can’t be comfortable.”
I slowly peel my heavy eyelids open and use the back of my hand to wipe the drool that’s pooled in the corner of my mouth.
Mallory is watching me with a concerned expression in her wide eyes.
Her pale-blue hair is spiked in various directions.
“I know you have a full class load, but this is a bit much,” she whispers, looking around at all the history books surrounding me.
I stretch both arms above my head, my lips parting in a long yawn. “What time is it?” I ask.
“Half past ten.”
“In the morning?” I croak.
She nods like it’s obvious. “Yeah.”
Fuuuck.
I stand so fast the chair falls over, earning me a few glares from nearby students. “She’s going to kill me,” I panic-whisper as I bend down to pick it up.
“Who’s going to kill you?” Mallory’s eyebrows knit together, creating a furrow between her eyes.
I want to give her more of my time, but at the moment, I don’t have any. “I gotta go, but I’ll catch up with you later,” I toss over my shoulder, exiting the library as if my ass is on fire.
Pebbles fly up from under my boots as I run with everything in me toward the practice field. The gate leading out to it swings on its hinges, smacking the small stone wall as I run through, my steps faltering as I rush down the stairs slick with ice.
I tumble into the field with absolutely no grace.
A few isolated groups are practicing their craft, but I don’t see Corinne right away.
I scan the area looking for her, afraid I won’t find her, but also dreading the fact that I might.
Stepping forward, I’m careful to give the wielders a wide berth.
A third-year Veil with a braided crown and a look of fierce concentration on her face is encased in an electrical sphere, with bursts of currents spidering out around her.