There are staircases that lead to nowhere. Archways that no longer support roofs, their marble carvings worn away by rain and time. I duck into one of the tunnels at the first possible opportunity, where empty shelves and rotted books flank me on either side. But I’m forced to reemerge into the main portion of the crater after the tunnel leads to nothing more than a dead end.
The scale of the destruction is breathtaking: The stories failed to do it justice. I find no skeletons—perhaps someone came through and gathered them all out of respect for the dead. I have a rogue thought that Kaelis collected them just like he did all the remains from the rooms leading to the workshop of the Fool. But given how much he hated this place…I highly doubt it.
Deeper, the passageways are more untouched. Magic still hangs in the air, setting my nerves ablaze. There is something unnatural and horrible about this place. I pause a moment, trying to catch my breath, resting my right hand on the stone next to me; it nearly crumbles under my grasp.
A jolt strikes me like a lightning bolt. I pull my hand away and find tiny iridescent shards of what looks like glass imprinted into my skin.The remnants of reversed cards.
Taking a jar I brought with me, I dutifully collect every glittering speck I can find. There’s some dust and dirt swept in as well. But I can sort through that later. It will be far easier than what I did with the powders from the workshop of the Fool.
I’m almost at the heart of what still remains. This far down, the passageways are more intact as they weave into the bedrock, away from the epicenter of whatever magic Kaelis wrought. It feels as if these bookshelves haven’t seen light in years before my small candle. The air is heavy with the scent of slowly rotting parchment.
My fingers trail over the damp leather spines that cling to the remnants of pages. Somehow, deep, deep within this place, there are some books still holding together. The knowledge that Clan Hermit buried in the depths of this library yet persists. Though most are utterly illegible from years of neglect.
And it’s here, among shelves and ruined books, that I find the fragment of a card.
It’s little more than a corner of a card, but I recognize it instantly. With trembling fingers, I inspect it, already knowing it is nearly identical to the one Gregor brought me.In fact…My eyes widen—it might just be a piece of the same card.
I spin in place, scanning the now seemingly too large passageways. Anything could lurk within them, and my candlelight is nearly swallowed by the oppressive darkness. But it is enough light, just barely, to see places where the dust has been disturbed. Where footprints mar the otherwise untouched floor.
Gregor said he got the card from one of Ravin’s workshops. Did Ravin come here? Or…was it Vaduin? Vaduin knew of this place and clearly has a deep-rooted vendetta against Kaelis. Did he come all the way here to try to turn Gregor on me because of Kaelis? Is that why he pushed to come this time?
Leave, or follow?I stare at the footprints and make my choice to descend farther, matching their gait to leave only one track.
They end at a shelf that much more closely resembles one of the upper levels—it’s in utter disarray. But this isn’t from violent, explosive magic the likes of which the world has never seen before. This is purposeful. It looks as if someone has been rummaging through it.
My brow furrows as I pick up one of the pages that must’ve fallen from the binding and been discarded across the floor.
Minor Arcana theory. Nothing unique. Nothing special. I look in either direction. Everything else is undisturbed. This person came here for this and nothing else. Moreover, it was knowledge so precious that Clan Hermit archived it deep enough that it could survive a catastrophe.
Could it be the book Ravin was looking for?Cornerstones of the Minor Arcana…This seems like a place it might have been. Why would Ravin go to such lengths for a rudimentary text? The earlier question returns, seen with new light now, knowing his truth. Perhaps it’s something he thinks could help him?
“I don’t have time for this,” I whisper, as if speaking too loudly could alert someone to my presence. Yet, I don’t move. I keep searching and scanning the various texts. But there’s no sign of the book.
I exhale sharply, forcing myself to refocus as I make my way back up. Whoever it was who was here will remain a mystery, for now.
Adjusting the strap of my bag, I continue to gather remnants of the reversed cards as I ascend. Emerging from the passageway and stepping into the main portion of the crater fills me with a deeper, more immediate sense of unease. Here I thought seeing the sky again would relax the knot that’s wound between my shoulder blades. But in fact, it’s the opposite.
When I move out from under an overhang, my eyes are instantly drawn to movement. The figure is perfectly still, but the wind sweeps their cloak around their calves. Their hood shades their face.
They’re nothing more than a vague silhouette on a gray sky, but somehow,somehow,I know who it is. I know it in my bones.
Kaelis is waiting.
“Took you long enough.” Kaelis’s voice slices through the air, striking me between the ribs.
“What—Howare you here?” Somehow I manage to keep my voice steady even though it feels as if every vein and muscle of my body is trying to rattle out from under my skin.
“I, unlike you, am permitted to be here.” He watches me as I continue to ascend. I’m nearly at the top of the crater—the uppermost rung before the ground.
There’s something about him in this moment that reminds me of a highly trained beast. No matter how well practiced it is, no matter how firm a hand its master has on it, it’s still wild. There’s still something vicious within him that threatens to get out. An unseen, unknown force that wedges itself constantly between us and grates against my better senses.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice you were gone? That I wouldn’t be able to feel it the moment you left?” he asks as I near. His shadowed eyes are ablaze. Hurt roughens the edges of his voice. “That it wouldn’t matter that you camehere?”
“It was for the vessel,” I say calmly.
He scoffs. “And to satiate your unyielding suspicion surrounding me! No matter what I say, what I do, you still doubt!”
“How could I not when you keep lying to me?” I say, seething. It’s like an inflamed wound rupturing, ugly and weeping. Something I’ve tried to hide or ignore but no longer can.
