For a breath, the wall seems to wait. He touches it. A deep, grinding sound echoes through the chamber, the vibration rippling beneath our feet. I take a sharp breath, my fingers instinctively tightening in his hand.
The wall is moving. A portion of the stone slides aside, revealing a hidden passage. The air shifts the moment the wall groans open, spilling centuries of trapped, stale air into the cavern.
The scent that rushes out is old and heavy—dry and dusty stone, aged parchment, air thick enough to coat my tongue. Underneath it, there’s something else. Something . . . preserved. Like the faintest trace of ink, of leather.
Lyra exhales. “That’s . . . not ominous at all.” The glow from the chamber spills into the opening, illuminating a long corridor beyond—one that has not seen light in centuries.
Valen gapes. “Thane, how did you open the wall? Did you use your magics?”
His face is still, eyes wide with something between awe and dread. “I don’t know. The bond pulled me—” he looks at me, then back at the open passageway. “Pulled us here.”
Valen studies the passage. His eyes harden. “It was hidden here and sealed for a reason.”
Jarek shakes his head. “Yeah, well, guess we’re about to find out why.”
Thane doesn’t move, his gaze fixed on the newly revealed path. His voice is quiet, certain. “This was meant for us.” The bond tightens. Certain.
Like it knew all along.
I drop Thane’s hand and step forward, the ground beneath me softer than I expected, worn smooth by time, untouched by the elements, the others following closely behind. I squint intothe dimness, the glow from the cavern spilling into the space beyond.
Shelves. Rows of them. Books—hundreds of them. Old, bound in cracked leather, stacked haphazardly as if whoever left them here was in a hurry. Cobwebs hang like ghosts. Dust softens every surface.
The chamber is vast but not endless, the ceiling arched high above us, carved with more Shadow Clan symbols—their meanings lost to time. The bookshelves stretch across the space like sentinels, standing despite the weight of the years. Some are leaning, cracked, their wood warped from time, others perfectly intact, like they refused to decay.
This silence isn’t empty. It’s waiting.
Thane moves beside me, his breathing steady but tense, controlled.
No one speaks at first. We are all taking it in.
Then, Valen lets out a slow breath. “Gods.”
Lyra wipes dust from a shelf, revealing more carved symbols beneath. “This is . . . ” she trails off, shaking her head. “This is incredible. But how . . . ”
I run my fingers over the spines of the books, their leather bindings cracked and peeling. Dust clings, dry and weighty.
Valen’s voice is hushed, reverent. “These aren’t just records. These are personal writings, from the Shadow Clan people.” He pulls a book from the shelf, carefully flipping through the pages. “Journals. Letters. Accounts from the war.”
I stare at him. “Firsthand accounts?”
Valen nods, his brow furrowing. “Not just from warriors. From scholars. Leaders.” He pauses, carefully studying one manuscript. “The people who lived through it.”
Jarek steps forward, plucking a book from the shelf. “This is written in the common tongue.” He flips it open, scanning the inked pages, then grabs another book. And another. He stopsflipping. “They all are.”
I glance at Rian and Garrick—both grim, silent.
“How did these survive?” Rian murmurs, running a hand over the cracked spine of a book.
Valen shakes his head. “They weren’t supposed to.” His tone sharpens. “The Fire Clan was said to have burned everything after the war—to erase the Shadow Clan from history. To send a message.”
And that’s when his breath catches. They hear Valen, and the room goes deathly silent. Because there, on a shelf near the back, half-buried beneath dust and time, is a book unlike the others. The leather cover is still intact, reinforced with protective magics that have kept it from decaying.
But it’s not the book that stops Valen. It’s the name written across the spine.
“Sylas Veyne,” Valen whispers.
Jarek stiffens. Rian’s gaze hardens. Garrick inhales sharply.
