The time for my meeting at the Archive was slowly approaching, so Tes and I said goodbye.
She was a nice girl. Maybe I would see her again someday. Emigrating to Valderia did not sound all that bad.
The streets of the city were gradually emptying. Shops that had been selling last minute goods only moments ago now stood deserted.
I glanced down the side street leading toward the temple, and then someone came out of it so suddenly that he collided with me.
"Watch where you're going," the man began, then stopped.
He looked at me, and a chill ran down my spine.
He was almost a head taller than I was, and his muscular build made it clear he was no ordinary civilian. He had sharp amber eyes, short blond hair, and pointed ears typical of a Ming.
"Do we know each other?" he asked.
"I don't think so," I replied.
He kept staring at me.
Goosebumps prickled across my skin. I felt fear. I knew that if I ever crossed blades with him, I would not walk away in one piece.
"That's strange," he muttered. "You look familiar."
"Humans and Ming often mix up faces," I said, trying to move past him.
"Maybe," he replied, stepping aside.
I walked around him and let out a quiet breath.
The square was almost empty. Most people had already evacuated. The Archive was easy to recognize. A massive building with a tympanum and columns across the front. Its doors stood wide open. Carts were drawn up outside while rare books were being loaded onto them.
I stepped inside. The archivists were easy to recognize at a glance by their dark blue robes and caps shaped like open books.
"Excuse me, where can I find Archivarius Primus?" I asked one of them.
"What do you want here? You have no business in this place." The archivist frowned at me suspiciously.
"I'm here because of the murders in the villages around the city," I replied.
"If you have information, give it to me and I'll pass it on to him."
"No. This concerns the Twelve Swords," I insisted, lightly tapping the hilt of my sword.
The archivist paused.
"There's a large door on the first floor. Those are his chambers."
People hurried down the stairs with books in their arms. I went up and stopped in front of the door. Lasin and the others were not there yet, or they were already inside.
The guards opened it.
It did not feel like a room so much as another library. Shelves stood everywhere.
There were only two people inside.
One of them was a man in richly decorated robes, taking books from the shelves. The second figure was familiar. A huge Ming with closely cut hair and a sharp gaze. It was only when he turned that I recognized him.
The man from the street.
"You," he said.
"Yes. Me."
"Do you know each other, Jurian?" Pestor asked, though the tension between us was obvious.
"No," I answered immediately.
"Why are you here?" Pestor asked.
"I was supposed to meet Lasin Arkvésis and you here. It concerns the massacred villages around Theocran."
"Lasin isn't here yet, but you can begin."
"I was in one of those villages. I don't remember it clearly, but I spent the night there. During the night I heard screaming and people dying. Then I woke up not far from here. It felt more like a dream."
Jurian straightened slightly.
"Hm." Pestor thought for a moment. "It's possible someone interfered with your memory. But surviving as the only one... that is rarely a coincidence."
I clenched my jaw. "I don't know why I survived."
"From what you remember, were you injured? Did you feel any magic?" Pestor asked.
"No. I don't remember anything like that."
"Were there signs of resistance?" Jurian asked quietly. "Or did they just accept it?"
"No. It was a one sided execution. Each of them had only one fatal wound."
Jurian's expression hardened for a moment. "Professional."
Just then, the door opened and three figures entered: Lasin, Breias, and Azi.
Lasin entered first and swept her gaze around the room. When she noticed me talking to Pestor, she smiled faintly.
"I expected you to run."
"I'm not that desperate anymore."
Lasin turned to Pestor.
"From what we learned on the way here, this isn't random. Someone is spreading fear systematically."
Pestor was silent for a moment. "Recently, we've also been seeing a number of murders inside the city."
"Do you suspect who might be behind it?" I asked.
"The Empire?" Jurian suggested.
Pestor shook his head. "The Empire would not use such tactics directly."
Silence followed.
"So they're using someone else?" Lasin asked.
"Yes," Pestor said. "That's my suspicion."
He hesitated for a moment.
"The Cult of Truth."
Jurian froze. Something flashed in his eyes before he could hide it. His hand shifted slightly toward the hilt of his sword before he caught himself and stopped.
The rest of us frowned. It was obvious we were hearing the name for the first time.
"What are they?" I asked.
"They collect things that should have stayed buried. Old magic. Forbidden rituals. And when someone knows too much... they disappear."
The air in the room grew heavy.
Silence settled again, broken only by the opening of the door.
One of the librarians stepped inside. I could tell at once that something was wrong. He was shaking.
I looked into his eyes. His pupils were unnaturally wide. Veins stood out beneath his skin.
"What happened?" Pestor asked.
Something was wrong with him.
Pestor stepped closer.
The librarian bit his lip with effort.
Before any of us could react, he pulled out a dagger and drove it straight into Pestor's chest.
"Fuck," I breathed.
That should not have happened.
He stabbed again.
When he moved to strike a third time, Jurian was already gripping his wrist. I had not even seen him move.
In one swift motion, Jurian cut across the librarian's throat.
The blade tore through flesh cleanly, without hesitation. The librarian's knees buckled. A rasping sound escaped his throat, but his eyes remained unnaturally wide, as if he were still trying to say something.
Blood spilled across the floor between the shelves.
Pestor staggered back, one hand pressed against his chest. Blood seeped through his fingers. He swayed and dropped heavily into a nearby chair.
"Close the door!" Lasin snapped.
The guards reacted too late, but the door still slammed shut with a heavy thud.
The librarian twitched once more. His lips moved.
"Truth..." he whispered, almost too softly to hear.
Then he fell silent.
Jurian let go of him and turned at once to Pestor. "Move back."
He dropped to his knees and pressed both hands against the wound in Pestor's chest. Green light spilled between his fingers, pulsing and concentrated as he tried to stop the bleeding.
The old man was already pale. Blood darkened his robes.
"Do not meddle with the Cult of Truth," he breathed with effort.
"Jurian..."
His voice broke.
"It's too late. Continue... my research."
With the last of his strength, he reached for the book on the table and handed it to Jurian. Bloody fingerprints stained the cover.
His hand dropped.
His fingers went limp.
Silence fell over the room, broken only by the dripping of blood onto the stone floor.
Jurian remained kneeling motionless for a moment.
Then he slowly rose.
He clenched the book so tightly in one hand that his knuckles cracked.
Without warning, he turned and with a single kick smashed open the door leading into the hallway. The wood splintered and slammed into the wall with a deafening crash.
For a long moment, no one said a word.