I’m too entranced by the arras to heed her. My attention turns next to the green dragon, her form looping and winding throughout the entire piece. The more I study the tapestry, the more I begin to realize that it’sherstory. At the very top, she is linked to her Fated One with a bright red thread.
“Sai.”
When I get to the scenes in the middle of the tapestry, I notice that the blue dragon is nowhere to be found. Gone. Erased from the story. The red dragon lies in a broken heap, speared through with dozens of arrows. Thereafter, the green dragon is in isolation, her red thread nothing more than a black loop around her claw. The colors here are darker, foreboding. She remains there, weathering the seasons and the passage of time alone.
Until, at the very bottom, a new red thread is attached to her claw and sweeps off to the side of the tapestry. The story is not yet concluded, the bottom threads not yet tied off. It appears that the master weaver never got around to finishing his project.
Jyn hobbles over to join me, and she gazes up at the tapestry for all of two seconds before reaching up and ripping it off the wall. She grips it tight in one hand, running her fingertips over the blue dragon’s design. Her eyes become glassy with the threat of tears, but none fall, instead balancing on angry red rims.
Our connection screams in agony and sorrow, filling my nose with the scent of ash and coating my tongue with bile. My skin is suddenly alight, a searing heat shredding its way through me.
“Jyn…”
She lets go. The fabric pools onto the cold floor, a plume of thick dust billowing into the air.
“I saidrest,” she commands, turning away.
I glance down at the forgotten tapestry, my thoughts a quiet storm as I attempt to puzzle together what it means. I hate to see Jyn upset, and it’s only made worse now that our connection reinforces my empathy.
She doesn’t speak another word to me the rest of the night.
22
I’m starving by the timeI wake the next morning. At least, Iassumeit’s the next morning. Without sunlight, it’s impossible to keep track of time. Jyn is already up and about, her ankle and minor cuts miraculously healed. I, too, feel born anew. Wordlessly, we start down the never-ending stairs.
It’s difficult for me not to lament all the scrolls and books that pass us by. What untold stories remain hidden here? They call to me, and yet my cramping stomach calls louder still. If Jyn and I don’t escape this place quickly, I fear starvation may well be on the horizon. That, or cannibalism—though my preference is obviously the former.
Jyn takes the lead, remaining two paces ahead of me at all times. I would not describe her mood as foul, merely distant. Her defenses are impenetrable, a stone-cold wall. All my attempts to reach out over our connection are met with a stifling silence. Have I angered her in some way?
I’m about to ask when she stops abruptly.
“Do you hear that?” she asks, straining her neck to listen. “It sounds like—”
“—water,” I finish for her. The undeniable rush and hiss fills my ears. It’s close. “An underground river, perhaps?”
“Which means there might be a way out,” she says. “Come.”
We have only a few more flights of stairs to climb down. By the time we reach the ground floor, my knees are wobbling. When I look up, I can barely make out the top level of the library, the upper floors almost completely consumed by darkness.
The main entryway to the library has collapsed in on itself, the wooden beams having rotted away centuries ago. Coarse sand covers the lobby floor, and shredded remnants of old talismans are scattered about the waste. I pick one up and study the red markings on the thin strips of yellow parchment. Now that I look around, I see that the whole bottom floor is covered in them.
“This was how the monks harnessed enough magic to sink the place,” I say. “They must have been quite desperate to turn to shamanistic practices.”
She reaches out and takes the talisman from me, her expression hard. “They were.” Her tongue flicks out from the corner of her mouth before running along her bottom lip. “I smell fresh water. Moving fast.” She pushes on without me, squeezing past two large boulders blocking the exit.
“I don’t think I can fit through there.”
She sighs, her eyes flicking between me and the gap. I’m nowhere near as slender as she is, but I’ve come too far to be trapped for good. She crooks a finger, beckoning me over.
“Come on,” she says, and pushes one of the heavy rocks out of the way easily with one hand. I marvel at her inhuman strength. The tips of my ears heat up. I’m only slightly ashamed to admit that this arouses me. Anyone who doesn’t admire a strong woman is, in my humble opinion, a fool.
“Hurry up!” she snaps.
“Oh, right.”
I slip on through, joining Jyn on the other side. She carefully replaces the boulder in its original position, mindful not to disturb the rest of the structure. We now find ourselves in a large, open cavern, a tranquil underground pool before our feet. The water glows, bioluminescent. It flows so clearly that I can see straight through to the bottom. Unfortunately, there doesn’t appear to be an exit. Another dead end.
“Should we try elsewhere?” I ask.
