The night before their planned approach was a lesson in quiet anxiety. No one slept well. The rustle of leaves became the scrape of a monk's sandal; the sigh of the wind sounded like a held breath. Tadao lay in his bedroll, staring at the canopy of branches silhouetted against a star-sprinkled sky, running through scenarios in his head. Playing the part of a curious apprentice felt like a flimsy shield. What if the monks saw through it? What if the door was warded with magic that flared the moment he touched it? What if Skill XXX chose that exact moment to whisper in his ear?
He pushed the last thought away, a cold sweat prickling his neck.
Dawn came grey and damp, a mist clinging to the forest floor like a shroud. They broke camp in silence, packing their bedrolls and checking their gear with a grim focus. Etsuo had them all don their cleanest, least battle-worn attire. Rin grumbled as she smoothed out the wrinkles in her brown pants and black top, but she complied. Fumiko adjusted her white dress and glasses, trying to project an air of academic serenity, though her fingers wouldn't stop fidgeting.
"Remember," Etsuo said, her voice a low, steady drum in the misty quiet. "We are Lady Etsuo's party, renowned adventurers from a distant land, here to consult the abbey's famed archives on matters of ancient magical theory. Fumiko, you are the lead. Rin and I are your guards and assistants. Tadao, you are Fumiko's apprentice and scribe. You are eager, but you follow her lead. Do not speak unless spoken to, and if you do, be respectful."
"Got it," Tadao muttered, adjusting the strap of the small, empty satchel they'd given him to look the part.
"Our goal is to get inside, get a lay of the archives, and create an opportunity for Tadao to slip away toward the locked door. Do not force it. If the opportunity does not present itself, we withdraw and reconsider. Our secondary goal is to learn what we can about the monks themselves—their numbers, their temperament, their routines. Any information is valuable."
They set off down the trail, the mist slowly burning away under a pale, tentative sun. The abbey looked even more imposing in the flat morning light, a slab of grey stone against the darker grey of the cliff. As they approached the main gate, the size of the iron-bound doors became apparent—each one was twice the height of a man and thick enough to withstand a battering ram.
Etsuo stepped forward and struck the heavy iron knocker once, a clear, resonant clang that seemed to be swallowed by the stone. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, a small, grated viewport slid open at eye level. A pair of dark, deeply set eyes peered out, scanning them with neither warmth nor hostility.
"State your business." The voice was dry, aged, and completely devoid of inflection.
Etsuo inclined her head slightly. "We are travelers from the south, seekers of knowledge. We humbly request an audience with the Keeper of the Archives, to consult your holdings on the convergence of elemental and celestial magics."
The eyes blinked slowly. "The Abbey does not welcome casual visitors. Our knowledge is not for public perusal."
"We are not casual," Fumiko spoke up, her voice clear and steady, carrying a surprising authority. She took a half-step forward, her staff held not as a weapon, but as a scholar's tool. "I am Fumiko, a theorist of magical resonance. My work requires primary sources that are unavailable elsewhere. The Guild of Grimwalt can vouch for our standing and our discretion." She didn't mention Oakhaven; Grisel was their official point of origin in this world, and its guild was the one that knew them.
There was another long pause. The eyes behind the grate assessed Fumiko, then flicked over Etsuo's armored form, Rin's axe, and finally Tadao, who tried to look both keen and harmless. The viewport slid shut with a definitive clack.
Tadao's heart sank. That's it. We're done.
But then, with a groan of aged timber and grinding iron, one of the massive doors swung inward, just wide enough for a single person to pass. The monk who had spoken stood there, a frail-looking man in plain, grey robes. His head was shaved, his face a landscape of fine wrinkles. He held no weapon.
"You may enter. The Keeper will see you. Follow me. Do not stray from the path." He turned and began walking without checking to see if they followed.
They filed into the courtyard Tadao had seen from above. It felt different at ground level—larger, and the silence was a tangible thing, a pressure on the ears. The air was cool and still, smelling of damp stone and old herbs from the garden. The monk who had been sweeping the day before was nowhere to be seen. A few others moved in the distance, gliding between buildings with silent, purposeful steps, their hoods up. None looked in their direction.
Their guide led them across the packed earth to the largest building, the one with the steps. Inside, the gloom was profound after the morning light. The air was several degrees cooler, and the scent of parchment and beeswax was overwhelming. They were in a vaulted antechamber. Stone benches lined the walls, and a single, large ledger sat on a wooden stand.
"Wait here," the old monk said, and disappeared through an arched doorway into the depths of the building.
The moment he was gone, the family shared a series of rapid, silent looks. Rin's eyes darted around, cataloging exits and sightlines. Etsuo gave a subtle nod toward the archway their guide had taken. Fumiko adjusted her glasses, her breathing deliberately slow. Tadao clutched his satchel, his mouth dry.
Minutes stretched. The only sound was the distant, rhythmic drip of water somewhere.
Finally, the old monk returned, accompanied by another. This one was younger, perhaps in his forties, with a stern, clean-shaven face and sharp eyes that missed nothing. His robes were of the same grey cloth, but a simple silver chain around his neck held a pendant—a tiny, engraved version of the eye-and-book symbol.
"I am Keeper Nilos," he said, his voice clipped and efficient. "Brother Fenric says you seek specific knowledge. Our archives are not a lending library. What, precisely, is your query?"
Fumiko bowed, a graceful, practiced motion. "Keeper Nilos, thank you for your time. My research involves historical instances where innate magical abilities, often called 'Legacy Gifts' or 'Bloodline Skills,' have manifested in individuals with no prior familial history of such power. I am particularly interested in records of their… management. Or their integration."
Tadao held his breath. It was a masterful pitch—close enough to the truth to be credible, academic enough to sound legitimate, and it pointed directly at their problem without naming the shameful Skill XXX.
Keeper Nilos's expression didn't change, but his eyes seemed to sharpen, focusing on Fumiko with new intensity. "A… niche area of study. Dangerous ground. Such records, if they exist, would be in the Restricted Collection. Access requires a dispensation from the Abbott, who is currently in meditation and cannot be disturbed."
"We understand," Etsuo said smoothly, taking a half-step forward. "Perhaps while we await the possibility of an audience with the Abbott, we might be permitted to review your general historical catalogs? To provide context for our request and to ensure our time here is not wasted."
It was a reasonable request from a traveling party that didn't want to sit idle. Nilos considered it, his gaze sweeping over them once more. He seemed to be weighing the disruption against the potential breach of letting them wander.
"Very well. The public scriptorium is open for study. You may be escorted there. You will be accompanied by a brother at all times. You may handle only the scrolls presented to you. Is this acceptable?"
"Perfectly," Fumiko said, bowing again.
Nilos gave a curt nod to Brother Fenric. "Take them to the East Scriptorium. Remain with them."
The old monk bowed and gestured for them to follow. They were led out of the antechamber and down a different corridor than the one Tadao had explored—wider, better lit by high, narrow windows. They passed several closed doors before arriving at a large, rectangular room.
The East Scriptorium was exactly what Tadao had imagined a medieval library would be. Long tables of dark wood ran the length of the room, with high-backed chairs tucked beneath them. Shelves rose from floor to ceiling on every wall, packed with scroll cases of wood, leather, and even metal. A few monks sat at the tables, heads bent over unfurled scrolls, their quills scratching softly on parchment. The air was a symphony of quiet: the scratch of nibs, the gentle rustle of vellum, the almost-silent footfalls of the monks.
Brother Fenric led them to an empty table near the back. "You may sit. I will retrieve the general catalog of historical holdings."
As he shuffled away, the family took their seats. Etsuo and Rin positioned themselves to have clear views of the room's entrances. Fumiko arranged her dress and staff with an air of expectation. Tadao sat beside her, placing his satchel on the table, his heart hammering against his ribs. This is it. The chance.
He looked around the room, trying to orient himself. The door they'd entered was behind them. There was another, smaller door on the far wall, near a towering shelf. Was that the way to the restricted wing? To the locked door?
Brother Fenric returned, carrying a massive, leather-bound tome. He placed it on the table before Fumiko with a soft thump. "The master catalog. It is organized by century and region. The scroll references are coded to the shelves." He pointed to a system of numbers and letters painted neatly on the ends of each shelf unit. "I will be at the librarian's desk should you require assistance." He gestured to a small, raised desk near the entrance where another monk sat, then moved to stand by a column, his hands folded into his sleeves, a silent, watchful statue.
Fumiko opened the catalog, the pages crackling with age. She began to leaf through it, her finger tracing down entries, occasionally murmuring to herself. She was performing, but she was also genuinely looking, hoping against hope that something useful might be listed openly.
Tadao watched her, then let his eyes wander the room again, more deliberately this time. He noted the positions of the other studying monks. Two near the front, one in the middle. All engrossed in their work. The monk at the librarian's desk was writing in a ledger. Brother Fenric stood like a grey ghost, his eyes half-closed, but Tadao knew he was observing everything.
The smaller door on the far wall was his target. He needed a reason to go over there.
Fumiko provided it. She looked up from the catalog, her voice pitched to carry just to their table. "Apprentice, this entry on early Astral Conjunction theories… the reference scroll should be on the third shelf of the Arcanum section. Would you fetch it for me? Shelf designator 'A-3'." She pointed vaguely toward the far side of the room, her finger sweeping in an arc that included the area near the small door.
It was a test, a crafted opportunity. Tadao stood, his chair scraping softly on the stone floor. "Of course, Mistress."
He walked slowly, trying to mimic the quiet, measured pace of the monks. He passed the first set of shelves, his eyes scanning the designators. 'H-1', 'H-2'. History. He moved deeper. 'M-7'. Metallurgy. He was getting closer to the far wall. He could see the small door clearly now—plain oak, unadorned. Was it locked? It had a simple iron latch.
He reached the 'A' shelves. 'A-1', 'A-2'. He stopped at 'A-3', pretending to scan the scroll cases. Out of the corner of his eye, he checked on Brother Fenric. The old monk was still by the column, watching him, but he hadn't moved.
Tadao selected a scroll case at random from the shelf, a heavy cylinder of polished ash. He turned, as if to head back to the table, but then he paused, frowning at the case. He brought it closer to his face, squinting as if trying to read a faded label. He took a half-step toward the small door, as if seeking better light from the high window near it.
His back was now to most of the room, blocking the view of his hands from Brother Fenric. He was within arm's reach of the door. He could hear the faintest hum, a vibration in the air that hadn't been present elsewhere. Magic.
He risked a glance at the latch. No visible lock. But the hum suggested a ward. If he touched it, would it shriek? Would it bind him in place?
He had to know. This was the only chance. He shifted the scroll case to his left hand and, with his right, reached out slowly, not for the latch, but to place his palm flat against the wood of the door, near the frame.
The moment his skin made contact, the hum intensified, vibrating up his arm. A series of intricate, glowing blue lines flashed across the door's surface—a complex knot of runes that flared for an instant before fading. It was a ward, but it hadn't triggered an alarm. It had simply… reacted to his touch. As if testing him.
A cold, foreign sensation prickled at the base of his skull. Not nausea from his dash. Something else. A presence. It was faint, a whisper of ancient, watchful intelligence. The symbol on the door—the open eye. It felt like it had just looked at him.
He snatched his hand back, the scroll case almost slipping from his grasp. The hum faded. The runes vanished. He stood there, heart thundering, his breath caught in his throat.
"Is there a problem, apprentice?"
The voice was right behind him. Tadao jumped, whirling around. Brother Fenric stood there, his wrinkled face placid, but his dark eyes were fixed on Tadao's hand, which was still hovering near the door.
"N-no, Brother," Tadao stammered, clutching the scroll case to his chest like a shield. "The… the light is poor here. I was just trying to read the label."
Fenric's eyes moved from Tadao's hand to the door, then back to his face. "That door leads to the restoration chamber. It is not for visitors. The light at your table is sufficient." His tone offered no argument.
"Of course. My apologies." Tadao bowed his head and hurried back to the table, his legs feeling like water. He placed the scroll case in front of Fumiko and sank into his chair, avoiding his mother's questioning gaze.
Fumiko unrolled the scroll, pretending to study it. Under the cover of the wide parchment, she whispered, "What happened?"
"Warded," Tadao breathed, barely moving his lips. "It… felt me. Didn't alarm, but it knew."
Etsuo, who had heard, gave a minute nod. The information was critical. The door was protected by something more than a physical lock.
They spent another hour in the scriptorium, Fumiko asking Fenric occasional polite questions about cataloging methods, Etsuo and Rin maintaining their silent vigil. Tadao tried to calm his racing thoughts. The sensation of that ward… it hadn't been hostile. It had been analytical. It was designed to detect something. Intent? Magical signature? Bloodline?
When Fumiko gracefully declared they had enough notes to review and thanked Brother Fenric for his time, the old monk seemed almost relieved. He escorted them back through the silent corridors and to the main gate. As the heavy door began to swing shut behind them, Keeper Nilos appeared in the courtyard, watching them go, his expression inscrutable.
They didn't speak until they were a hundred yards down the trail, back in the cover of the trees. The moment they were hidden, the collective tension exploded into a flurry of hushed words.
"The door is magically warded," Tadao said first. "I touched it. Runes flashed. It felt… alive. Like it was checking me out."
"Did it see your skill? Your dash?" Rin asked sharply.
"I don't know. It didn't feel like it was looking for that. It was more… general. But it knew I was there."
"Fenric was on you instantly," Etsuo mused, her brow furrowed. "He was watching more closely than he appeared. They are wary."
"And Keeper Nilos," Fumiko added, adjusting her glasses. "When I mentioned Legacy Skills and their management, his focus changed. He knew exactly what I was talking about. He didn't seem surprised, just… guarded. The fact that he mentioned a 'Restricted Collection' so readily means they have one, and they are used to deflecting requests for it."
"So we're on the right path," Rin said, crossing her arms. "But the candy's in a locked box, inside a guarded room, inside a fortress. And the guards know people want the candy."
"We need to understand that ward," Etsuo stated. "If it detects magic, or intent, or specific bloodlines… we cannot risk Tadao triggering it again, or one of us." Her eyes flicked to Rin and Fumiko. The unspoken fear was clear: would Skill XXX, a corrupted legacy skill, set off the abbey's alarms?
"We need an expert," Fumiko said quietly. "Or… a distraction of a different kind. Not noise. Something that would occupy the ward, or the monk guarding it."
"Like what?" Tadao asked.
Before she could answer, a new voice cut through the woods, cheerful and utterly out of place.
"Well, well! If it isn't the famous Koyanagi family! Fancy meeting you lot out here in the boonies!"
They all spun, hands going to weapons. A man stepped out from behind a thick oak tree, a wide, familiar grin on his face. He was dressed in fine, if travel-stained, merchant's clothes—a velvet doublet over a linen shirt, practical trousers, and boots that had seen better days. It was Borin, the merchant they'd escorted to Oakhaven. His round face was flushed from walking, and his twinkling eyes held a mixture of relief and sly curiosity.
"Borin?" Etsuo's hand relaxed on her spear, but her posture remained guarded. "What are you doing here? This is far from the trade roads."
"A merchant goes where opportunity blooms, dear lady!" Borin said, stepping closer and giving an exaggerated bow. "After our… enlightening conversation on the road, I found myself curious. The Abbey of the Silent Scribes buys certain rare inks and vellums. I had a small stock. Seemed a good excuse for a trip." He winked. "And perhaps to see how your own quest for enlightenment was faring."
His gaze was too knowing. He had guessed they would come here, and he had followed, or arrived independently hoping to cross paths.
"You've been spying on us," Rin stated, her voice flat.
"Spying is such a harsh word! I'm a concerned businessman and, dare I say, a friend! I saw you leave the abbey just now. Faces longer than a dragon's tail. I take it the Scribes weren't in a sharing mood?"
Etsuo studied him. The man was a gossip and a opportunist, but he had given them the crucial information that started this. And he had resources. "The door to the knowledge we seek is warded. Heavily. We cannot pass it without setting off alarms, magical or otherwise."
Borin's eyebrows shot up. "Is that so? A magical ward, you say?" He rubbed his chin, his expression turning thoughtful. "You know, in my travels, I've picked up more than just goods and gossip. I've also acquired… specialized tools. For specialized problems."
"What are you suggesting?" Fumiko asked, her scholarly interest piqued despite her suspicion.
"I'm suggesting, my dear, that every lock has a key. And every ward has a… counter-pulse. A resonant frequency, if you will, that can lull it to sleep for a short time." He patted a large leather satchel slung across his body. "I may have something in here that could create such a pulse. A little trinket I obtained from a… let's call him an 'unofficial' enchanter in Oakhaven. Cost me a pretty penny, but for friends in need…"
"What do you want in return?" Tadao asked bluntly. Nothing from Borin was free.
Borin's grin widened. "Straight to the point! I like that. Two things. First, if you find what you're looking for in there, I get to know what it is. Knowledge is currency too, you see. And second… well, let's just say the abbey has other things besides scrolls. Certain historical artifacts that have… fallen out of their catalog. Small things. Insignificant to them, valuable to a collector. If you happen to see anything like that while you're poking around, a little diversion would be helpful."
He was asking them to help him steal from the abbey while they stole knowledge.
"You're asking us to become thieves," Etsuo said, her voice cold.
"I'm asking us to be partners," Borin corrected, his tone losing its jollity for a moment. "You have a problem. I have a potential solution and a secondary objective that aligns with your need to get inside a secured room. Mutual benefit. I'm not asking you to slaughter monks or carry out treasure chests. Just create an opportunity. My device can create a window. What you do in that window is your business. What I do is mine."
The family looked at each other. It was a dirty deal. But Borin was right. They had no other way past the ward. The device, if it worked, was their only key.
"How does it work?" Fumiko asked.
Borin unslung his satchel and rummaged inside, pulling out a strange object. It looked like a brass compass, but instead of a needle, the face held a complex, interwoven gear mechanism surrounding a small, dull crystal. "You place it against the warded surface, wind this key here," he pointed to a small winding stem, "and it emits a disenchanting resonance for about… ninety seconds. Maybe two minutes. The ward goes dormant. It won't alert anyone. But you must be quick. And it only works once per winding; the crystal fractures."
"Ninety seconds," Rin muttered. "To get through a door, find the right scroll in a restricted archive, and get out."
"Or," Borin said with a meaningful look, "to let a fellow slip in to glance at a few dusty shelves while you do your own searching. We wouldn't even need to be in the same room. The ward is on the door. Once it's down, we both go through. You turn left, I turn right. Simple."
The plan was taking shape, ugly and risky, but a shape nonetheless. They would have to go back in, somehow. They would need to get Borin inside the abbey walls, and then to the locked door, without raising suspicion.
"We cannot bring you in the front gate," Etsuo said. "They will remember us, and you are not a scholar."
"Then I won't use the front gate," Borin said cheerfully. "You mentioned a postern gate on the south wall? Unused? A man of my… proportions might still squeeze through a gap, especially with a little help from a strong friend with an axe." He looked at Rin.
Rin scowled. "You want me to break you in?"
"I want you to open a door for me. Quietly. After dark. Then, you and your family create a distraction inside the main complex—a scholarly debate with the Keeper, a sudden magical inquiry, anything to draw the guards and the warden's attention to the front. I make my way to the door. You," he pointed to Tadao, "meet me there with the device. We disable the ward, go in, do our business, and get out before the monks finish their tea."
It was audacious. It was insane. It was the only plan they had.
Etsuo closed her eyes, weighing the moral weight of theft against the desperate need to save her daughters from a creeping corruption. When she opened them, her decision was made. "We will do it. Tonight. But understand, Borin, if this goes wrong, we will not sacrifice ourselves for you. We fight our way out as a family."
Borin placed a hand over his heart. "My lady, I would expect nothing less. Partnership, not martyrdom! Now, let's find a place to lay low until moonrise. I have some excellent cheese in my pack."
As they moved deeper into the woods to find a hidden campsite, Tadao fell into step beside Fumiko. "Do you think this will work?" he whispered.
She shook her head, a faint, hopeless gesture. "I don't know. But waiting and wondering is its own kind of torture." She hugged her arms around herself. "That ward… when you touched it, did you feel anything else? Anything… inviting?"
He knew what she meant. The seductive pull of Skill XXX. "No. Just the ward. It was cold. Ancient." He paused. "But it was intelligent. It was looking for something specific. I think… I think it might be looking for people like us. People marked by Legacy Skills. To keep them out. Or to let them in."
Fumiko's eyes widened behind her glasses. "If it's designed to detect Legacy Skills… and we use a device to bypass it…"
"Then we're breaking into a vault designed to keep our own kind locked away," Tadao finished, the realization settling like a stone in his gut. "What's inside might not be a cure. It might be a warning."
"Or a prison," she breathed.
Ahead of them, Borin was chatting amiably with Etsuo about the quality of Oakhaven cheese. Rin scouted the path, her axe a familiar weight on her shoulder. The sun dipped toward the hills, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. They had a plan, a tool, and a accomplice.
And Tadao couldn't shake the feeling that they were not breaking into a library to find answers.
They were breaking into a tomb to wake something up.