Why did the Shadow Clan have to be erased?
Valen snaps the journal shut. The sound cracks the silence. His expression is set, his voice firm.
“We need to take what we can—maps, books, records. This journal.” His gaze sweeps over the shelves, his fingers tightening around the worn leather cover. “As much as possible.” He doesn’t wait for agreement. He moves, scanning the rows, already pulling books free, stacking them on the nearest surface.
Jarek steps forward, running a hand over the cracked spines. “How do we know what’s important?”
Valen doesn’t look up. “We don’t. That’s why we take everything we can carry.”
Lyra is still pale, her movements slow. But she reaches for abook anyway. Garrick stays close, ready if she needs him.
Across the room, Rian unrolls a map, frowning at the faded ink. “Old territory lines—but nothing I recognize.”
Thane is still. His gaze locked on the journal in Valen’s hands. Tension coils through him—but he says nothing.
Then, without a word, he turns away, stepping toward one of the aisles. He glances over his shoulder—a quick flick of his eyes. An unspoken follow me. So I do.
We step down a narrow column of books, the air thick with dust and something heavier, something unspoken. His steps are measured, controlled. Too controlled. But I see it—the tightness in his spine, the way his fingers curl slightly at his sides, the way his breath isn’t quite steady.
I wait until we’re out of earshot. Then I reach out, brushing his shoulder—light, tentative.
He stills and turns but his eyes are distant, unfocused. The glow from the cavern reflects in his eyes, catching on the gold flecks that burn like embers in the dark.
I keep my voice soft. “What is it?”
The air is dense with dust and history, pressing in like the weight of something long buried. The firelight from the floating orbs casts shifting shadows against the stone, their glow making the carved symbols on the walls seem alive—shifting, breathing, remembering.
The bond tightens—steady, insistent. It isn’t just pulling us toward something anymore. It’s as if it’s reacting to something that’s already here.
The firelight carves shadows into the sharp edges of his cheekbones, the cut of his jaw. I place my hand lightly on his arm, feeling the coiled strength beneath my fingertips. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. But he doesn’t meet my gaze, either.
I step closer. “Thane.” My voice is quiet, but certain. Finally,he looks down at me. And I feel it again—the weight pressing down on him, the war inside him.
He draws in a breath, slow and controlled. But when he speaks, his voice is lower than usual, rough at the edges. “This place . . . ” He exhales, his fingers twitching at his sides. “It confirms what I’ve always wondered. And what I’ve begun to fear.”
I swallow. “The Fire Clan’s history.”
He nods, his gaze landing past me—to the books, the walls, the proof that shouldn’t exist. “The Fire Clan manages the archives in the capital. They have since the Shadow Wars five hundred years ago.” His voice is even, but there’s something hollow beneath it. “The records told the story.” He pauses. “According to them, places like this shouldn’t exist.”
There’s something resigned in his tone, something that makes my stomach drop. “And now?” I press gently.
He exhales through clenched teeth, then loosens his fists. When he looks at me again, there’s something raw in his expression. “Now, I don’t know what’s real.”
The bond pulses—slow, deep, like the echo of something awakening beneath our feet. The urgency of it.
Thane shifts, his voice dropping lower. “If what’s in these books contradicts what we were taught—” He stops, shaking his head slightly. “Then what else have we been blind to?”
I barely whisper the next words. “Then what else have they rewritten? And what is the truth?”
The silence between us is thick, heavy with the answers we don’t have yet.
Thane exhales, steady. But the decision is already there—etched across his shoulders. “I have to tell them.”
I already know what he means. His past. His lineage. The truth we agreed to keep to ourselves only yesterday.
“Are you sure?”
“I trust Garrick. Jarek. Rian.” His voice is steady, certain. “I’ve known them since we were children. We trained together, fought together. They’re more than my second-in-commands.” His throat bobs, emotion shadowing his face. “They’re my brothers.”
