Chapter 30 – The Weight of the Truth
Brook sat alone in the training room long after Henry and Sera had left.
The journal remained open on the table.
He had read the same sentence so many times that the words had begun to lose their meaning.
The six Sources were never created to give power.
They were created to remove the limits placed upon humanity.
Brook leaned back in his chair.
"That doesn't make any sense."
Across from him, Crowley stood near the window.
He had been silent for several minutes.
Brook looked at him.
"You knew."
Crowley didn't answer.
"You knew about the Sources."
"I knew they existed."
"That's not the same thing."
"No."
Brook closed the journal.
"Then tell me what you know."
Crowley turned toward him.
"I know enough to understand that you shouldn't be chasing them."
"Why?"
"Because power has consequences."
Brook gave a bitter laugh.
"That's what everyone says."
"It's true."
"Seven people died because we didn't understand what was outside the Wall."
"My parents disappeared because they found something they weren't supposed to find."
"Something beneath this city is waking up."
"And now I'm apparently connected to six Sources that nobody wants to explain."
Brook stood.
"So forgive me if I'm not interested in another warning."
Crowley studied him for a long moment.
"You think knowing the truth will make things easier."
"No."
"I think knowing the truth is better than living a lie."
Crowley nodded.
"Sometimes it is."
He walked toward the door.
"But sometimes the truth gives you something you can't put down."
Brook frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Crowley stopped.
"You'll understand eventually."
Then he left.
Brook stared at the closed door.
He was beginning to hate those words.
Eventually.
Later.
When you're ready.
Everyone seemed to believe he was a child who needed protecting.
He was nineteen years old.
His parents had been missing for five years.
He had watched men die outside the Wall.
He had fought creatures that shouldn't exist.
Whatever remained of his childhood was already gone.
He didn't need protection.
He needed the truth.
The next morning, Brook reported to Captain Mercer.
The captain was standing over a table covered with maps.
He looked exhausted.
"Close the door."
Brook did.
Mercer pointed to a chair.
"Sit."
Brook remained standing.
"I'd rather stand."
Mercer almost smiled.
"Fine."
He pushed a report across the table.
Brook picked it up.
"What's this?"
"The western district."
Brook read through the first page.
Twenty-three buildings damaged.
Nine seriously injured.
No confirmed deaths.
The final section contained something stranger.
Several witnesses had reported hearing voices beneath the streets before the ground opened.
Brook looked up.
"How many?"
"Thirty-seven."
"All heard the same thing?"
Mercer nodded.
"Not exactly."
Brook continued reading.
Some heard knocking.
Others heard whispers.
A few claimed they heard someone calling their name.
Brook's stomach tightened.
"Did anyone investigate?"
"We sent a team into the old drainage tunnels."
"And?"
Mercer looked away.
"They found nothing."
Brook placed the report down.
"Nothing?"
"No bodies."
"No tracks."
"No evidence of an intruder."
"Nothing."
"Then why does everyone look terrified?"
Mercer leaned back.
"Because people don't need evidence to be afraid."
Brook looked at the maps.
"What's this?"
He pointed to a section beneath the western district.
Mercer hesitated.
"Old construction plans."
"There are tunnels underneath the city."
"Yes."
"How old?"
"Older than the Wall."
Brook's attention sharpened.
"Can I see the original plans?"
Mercer stared at him.
"You really don't know when to stop."
"No."
The captain sighed.
"Neither did your father."
Brook looked at him.
Mercer opened a drawer and removed a rolled parchment.
He placed it on the table.
"Thomas Smith requested these plans several years ago."
Brook carefully unfolded them.
The map showed Shinokuni-01 from below.
The city had been built over a network of tunnels.
But the tunnels didn't simply run beneath the streets.
They formed a pattern.
Twelve sections surrounded a central chamber.
Brook stared at the design.
"The city was built around something."
Mercer nodded.
"That's what your father believed."
"Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"Because your father asked us not to."
Brook looked up sharply.
"What?"
"He told us that if something happened to him, you were not to be involved."
"Why?"
Mercer didn't answer immediately.
"Because he believed the people searching for the chamber would eventually come looking for you."
Brook felt the anger return.
"My father knew this was going to happen?"
"We don't know."
"You keep saying that."
"Because that's the truth."
Mercer folded his hands.
"I don't have answers, Brook."
"I have suspicions."
"And suspicions aren't enough to send a nineteen-year-old Watchman into a hole beneath the city."
Brook looked at the map.
"Then who goes?"
Mercer didn't respond.
Brook already knew.
That afternoon, Brook found Henry outside the palace.
The prince was sitting on the steps alone.
His formal clothing had been replaced with simple training clothes.
He looked exhausted.
Brook sat beside him.
"You look terrible."
Henry gave a faint smile.
"So do you."
"Fair."
For a while they watched people crossing the palace courtyard.
Eventually Henry spoke.
"My father wants me to stop investigating."
"Are you going to?"
"No."
Brook smiled.
"Good."
Henry looked at him.
"He's afraid."
"Your father?"
"Yes."
"Not of the Abominations."
Henry shook his head.
"Of what happens if we find out the truth."
Brook considered that.
"Do you trust him?"
Henry took a long time to answer.
"I love my father."
"That's not what I asked."
Henry looked down.
"I don't know."
Brook nodded.
"Neither do I."
Henry looked toward the Wall.
"Do you ever think about leaving?"
Brook knew exactly what he meant.
"Every day."
"What's stopping you?"
Brook smiled without humor.
"Nothing."
Henry looked at him.
"Then why stay?"
Brook didn't have an immediate answer.
Because Sera was here.
Because Crowley was here.
Because this was the only home he'd ever known.
Because leaving meant admitting that the life he'd spent protecting might have been built on a lie.
Finally, he said:
"Not yet."
Henry nodded.
"Neither."
That evening, Sera visited Shoyo.
The old witch lived in a quiet house on the edge of the city, surrounded by herbs, dried flowers, and strange wooden charms.
Shoyo was sitting beside the fireplace when Sera entered.
"You've been avoiding me."
Sera stopped.
"I've been busy."
"That's not an answer."
Sera sat across from her.
"Brook found something."
Shoyo's expression changed.
"What?"
"A journal."
Shoyo waited.
"It mentioned six Sources."
The fire crackled.
Shoyo's face became unreadable.
"Where did he find it?"
"An old archive."
"Did he touch it?"
"Yes."
Shoyo closed her eyes.
"And?"
Sera hesitated.
"A symbol appeared on his hand."
The room became completely silent.
Shoyo stood.
"Show me."
Sera placed Brook's description on the table.
Shoyo stared at it.
Her hands began to tremble.
Sera had never seen that happen before.
"Miss?"
Shoyo whispered something in a language Sera didn't understand.
"What did you say?"
Shoyo looked at her.
"The first has chosen."
Sera frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Shoyo walked toward the window.
"It means the story has begun again."
"What story?"
Shoyo turned.
"The one I spent centuries praying would never return."
Sera stood.
"Then tell me."
Shoyo shook her head.
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because there are things even I don't understand."
Sera stepped closer.
"You said Brook is destined for something."
"I said destiny can change."
"Can it?"
Shoyo looked into her eyes.
"Yes."
"Then change his."
A sad smile appeared on Shoyo's face.
"If it were that simple…"
She looked toward the distant palace.
"…I would have done it long ago."
That night, Brook returned to the western district.
He wasn't alone.
Crowley followed him.
The two stood before the sealed entrance beneath the ruined watchtower.
Royal Guards watched from a distance.
Brook held the old map in his hand.
"The chamber is directly below us."
Crowley nodded.
"Yes."
"You knew."
"I suspected."
Brook looked at him.
"You're starting to sound like everyone else."
Crowley smiled faintly.
"Occupational hazard."
Brook crouched beside the stone floor.
He pressed his palm against it.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then the symbol beneath his skin began to glow.
Blue light spread across the stone.
Brook immediately pulled his hand away.
The floor vibrated.
Crowley stepped forward.
"Brook."
The ground beneath them shifted.
A thin line appeared across the floor.
Then another.
A hidden shape slowly emerged.
A circle.
Six symbols.
Exactly like the ones in the journal.
Brook stared.
The ancient stone beneath them began to open.
Crowley grabbed Brook's shoulder.
"Don't."
Brook looked at him.
"Why?"
Crowley's eyes were fixed on the opening.
For once, there was no sarcasm in his voice.
"Because whatever is down there…"
He paused.
"…has been waiting a very long time."
The opening widened.
Cold air rose from the darkness below.
Brook looked into the abyss.
Then he heard it.
A voice.
Not from outside.
Not from beneath the city.
Inside his own mind.
A voice that sounded almost exactly like his father's.
"Brook…"
He froze.
"…don't come looking for me."
The stone stopped moving.
The light disappeared.
And the darkness below swallowed the last trace of blue.