“Right. Let’s go then,” Tethys replied, crossing through the passageway to the final staircase.
† † †
The further they descended into the earth, the narrower the passageway became. Every so often they’d reach a landing with a single door, marked with the corresponding security level, until finally the steps ended. They’d easily descended a thousand steps by the time they reached the final door, a red rose carved above its frame. Mildewed pages and withered leather thickened the air, and although not as unpleasant as he’d imagined, Araes’s lungs tightened. He was a soldier in a house of academics. A brute amidst genius. This environment was far more foreign to him than the frontlines across the Canissaen border. He cocked his head to the side, keeping his brow from hitting the ceiling, as Tethys unlocked the door and crossed the threshold.
“Whatever you see here today cannot leave the archives, Lieutenant. Some of the most sacred of Venian artifacts, the most secret of eastern knowledge lives here,” she said, stopping before a narrow row of shelves. The lowest level didn’t have desks or chairs for the copyists to study. There were only a handful of sconces lining the musty sub earth walls. This wasn’t a place to linger, and the copyists ensured there wouldn’t be temptation to.
“I didn’t plan on sharing, Goddess,” he said, his voice gruff against his dust-dried throat.
“Good, because it’s the highest of treason. You’d be promptly executed,” she replied, turning on her heels and rounding a corner of shelves. Araes’s skin crawled, as if he’d walked through a wall of cobwebs. He wouldn’t dare risk a glance at any of the texts organized delicately within the stacks. Fixing his eyes on Tethys’s golden curls, he followed behind as silent as a wraith.
Tethys traced a long, slender index finger along the leather spines as they continued into the shadowy darkness, every so often pausing to read the title. Her frustration grew more apparent with each row they searched.
“I’m not sure exactly what I thought I’d find here, but none of these texts are dated even close to the time I’m searching for.” Tethys scowled.
“And what time would that be?” Araes risked the question. She had been so panicked, so insistent on coming here, but she’d refused to explain why. He didn’t expect she’d tell him, though. Those secrets she held close to her chest. Maybe even beneath her skin and bones.
“Do not ask questions, Lieutenant,” the goddess snapped, massaging her temples. “Why don’t you wait by the front entrance. I can’t concentrate with you breathing down my neck.”
He forced his face into blank indifference, shielding himself from her snide remark.
“As my queen wishes then,” he said, turning on his heels and returning to the entrance.
Hours passed and still he stood by the doorway. Every so often, a flash of golden hair crossed the rows of shelves, disappearing into the opposing shadows. His knees ached from the tension of his stance. The sooner they’d left this place to its secrets, the better. He risked a glance at the shelf to his left. One book stood out in the row. He scanned the room for the goddess, but she’d sunken so deep into the alcove’s darkness, not even a sound of rustling pages alerted him of her presence. His fingers twitched. One glance, perhaps. The title of the text seemed harmless enough, he wondered if it’d been mis-shelved down here.
Records of Mourning was printed in thick golden lettering across its deep navy spine. He considered pulling it from the shelf, scanning the pages for a name he knew would be there. No, he couldn’t give in to those thoughts. There were strict orders in place to preserve the secrecy of the alcove’s information.
But the question of Enyo’s death haunted him, left him sleepless and pacing every night. He scanned the alcoveagain. The goddess was so caught up in her own search, she wouldn’t notice. He sighed and stared at his boot. The text bore holes in the side of his skull, and his palms burned.
Before thinking better of it, he pulled the book from its shelf and flipped through page after page. Names of long forgotten commanders and their cause of deaths were written in neat script. He flipped to the back pages, his eyes catching on a name that both surprised him and left him utterly confused.
Damien Theos, missing in action on the battlefield.
Damien Theos? As in his commanding officer? He read the line again, ensuring his eyes hadn’t played tricks on him. No, there it was. The date corresponded to a battle a few years before Araes had enlisted. Maybe Captain Theos shared a name with his father. He tried to recall any scrap of information the officer shared about his lineage, but there was nothing. Theos was as mysterious as the thickest fog. Strange, but Araes summed up the inscription as either an odd coincidence or an error. He didn’t have time to stew over the possibilities, not with Tethys’s footsteps echoing down the corridor. He flipped to the last page, his fingers trembling as he scanned each line. These were names he recognized. Some from neighboring battalions or vacancies left in his own unit. He turned the page back one and inspected the dates until they corresponded with Enyo’s death. There it was—his brother’s name and cause of death: multiple stab wounds during an ambush.
His heart sank. Maybe there’d been some false sense of hope that his brother’s name would be missing from the records. But seeing it printed in jet black ink, whatever tether remained between the twins was instantly cut clean in a single line of letters. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat, his body heavier than stone.
Tethys’s steps were louder now; he couldn’t afford to shut down. So he locked himself away and returned thetext to its home on the shelf. As the goddess approached, her lips forming a narrow line, he tucked his hands into his trouser pockets. At least she wouldn’t see them trembling.
Her voice sounded as if he were underwater as she spoke. He couldn’t make sense of her words. He’d sunken too far into the pits to understand her.
“Lieutenant Araes!” she snapped a finger across his eyes. “Are you listening to me?”
Her tone was sharper than steel as he snapped back into reality. The ghosts of what he learned still hovered just over his shoulder, however. A reminder of what he’d yet to mourn. What he’d need to drown in ale when they’d retired for the night.
“Sorry my queen, what did you say?” he asked, forcing a response from his catatonic mouth.
“I said there’s a text missing, and I can’t find it anywhere. We need to alert the copyists before we do anything else. They need to put this place on lockdown,” she said. Her words startled him more than he allowed them to. A text, so ancient, so secret, the copyists had locked it away down here in this dungeon?
“What text?” he asked, risking a glance at her panicked golden eyes. They simmered in the sconce light, the rippling candlelight sending waves of amber through those golden flecks.
“Venia houses four original copies of the Theogony. I’ve searched this entire alcove and only three of them remain,” she said, retrieving the key from her cloak pocket.
“The Theogony? But you can find copies of those fables at nearly any book shop throughout the city. Why are they housed here?” he asked. The Theogony, the tale of how the world came to be, was merely a bedtime story. Everyone knew its words. Why they stored the copies all the way down here alluded the lieutenant.
“Because, Lieutenant, these four copies are the original transcriptions from the primordials themselves. Now, I’vefound Phosphora’s, Obscuros’s and Astraes’s, but Eos’s is gone.” Tethys threw open the door. Its hinges groaned as it swung open, as if protesting against their leaving with its stolen secrets. “Let’s go,” she cried, grasping his wrist and pulling him up the staircase.
Chapter 25
