The city felt different the next day.
It was as if the very air had changed, thickened, pressing against Rowan's chest with every step. The Book still lay in his hands, its weight an anchor that pulled him deeper into the web of decisions he had no choice but to make. The city, the people, the power—it all hummed around him, a constant reminder that he was no longer just a clerk. He was the city's heart now, whether he wanted to be or not.
Rowan walked the narrow streets of the city with Tess by his side, the weight of the Book still pulling at his back like a shadow. She hadn't said much since the chamber, her eyes still wary, but there was something in the way she stayed close—protective, almost—like a reminder that even in the darkness of his choices, there were still those who would stand by him.
The sun was setting over the city, casting long shadows over the cobblestones, and Rowan felt the city shift beneath him. It was subtle, like the air thickening before a storm, but he knew—the city was watching him. They were all waiting for him to act, to make the next move, but he didn't know what that was yet.
His steps faltered, and Tess glanced up at him. "Are you alright?"
Rowan nodded, though the lie felt like ash in his mouth. "Just thinking."
Tess didn't press him further. Instead, she reached into her coat and pulled out a small vial of quickglass, examining it with practiced hands. "I never thought I'd be here, you know."
Rowan raised an eyebrow, not sure what she meant. "Here? In the city?"
She shook her head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "No. With you. All this. The city, the power, the danger. I always thought... I don't know. That we'd be different. That we'd make a different kind of life."
The weight of her words hit him harder than he expected. He hadn't realized how much of the city's weight had fallen on her, too. How many lives had been shaped by his choices—by their choices.
"I thought the same," Rowan said quietly, his voice carrying more weight than he intended. "But I'm not the same person I was when this all began. And the city... it doesn't let you be the same. Not if you want to survive."
Tess's gaze softened, and she fell silent, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the vial in her hands. The world seemed to slow around them, as though the city itself were holding its breath, waiting for Rowan to make the next choice.
The street was crowded now, the sounds of the market stalls echoing in the distance, the chatter of the city's people blending together like the hum of a thousand voices. It all felt so alive—so much larger than it had ever been before. And yet, for all the noise and movement, Rowan felt a growing isolation, as though he were standing on the edge of something vast, something he couldn't understand.
He could feel the weight of the Book again, pressing into his chest, but now it felt different. More insistent. It wasn't just a tool or a weapon—it was his bond to the city, and the city's bond to him.
"What do we do now?" Tess asked, her voice barely audible over the noise of the city.
Rowan hesitated. He could feel the weight of the city's pulse in the air, the thrum of it vibrating through his veins, through his bones. The people—they wanted something from him. They needed him to lead. To guide them. But lead where? And to what end?
He looked at Tess, and for a brief moment, he saw the same uncertainty in her eyes. They were both lost, trapped in the choices they had made and the path they had set in motion.
"I don't know," Rowan said at last, his voice heavy with the weight of truth. "But we can't stop now. Whatever happens, we move forward."
Tess nodded slowly, though there was no real conviction in the movement. "I'll follow you."
Rowan's heart tightened at her words. He hadn't asked for her loyalty, hadn't demanded it. And yet, here she was, standing by him despite the uncertainty, despite the danger. He wasn't sure whether to be grateful or guilty.
As they continued walking, Rowan's thoughts kept drifting back to the Book, to the promises it held, the laws it had shaped, and the people it would change. It was power. But it was also responsibility.
And that responsibility weighed heavier than anything else.
The city had always been a maze of power, of politics, of forgotten histories. But now, it was his maze to navigate. His choices would decide its fate, and the fate of everyone within it.
He was no longer a mere clerk. He was the Keeper, the judge, the lawmaker—and he was starting to understand what that truly meant.
But as he walked through the streets, the weight of the decision began to settle deeper into him. Power was a dangerous thing, a slippery thing. And though he had taken the Book, it was the city that had claimed him.
It was time to write the next chapter.