Hours until dawn.
Hours to find another way.
The Council wanted her decision by sunrise—but first, Kaelen needed answers.
The stairs to the Archive's top tower spiralled upward. Footsteps echoed in the narrow stairwell.
Snow struck the windows. Maera's map crumpled in her hand.
The final door bore carved symbols on black wood. Her pendant warmed against her throat.
"Here burns the first light." She traced the symbols. "Here sleeps the last truth."
The pendant pulsed. The door swung open.
The room beyond stretched further than seemed possible. Seven stone alcoves surrounded a central platform where real fire burned—not wardlight, but actual flames.
Six podiums stood empty, their surfaces scarred by sword strikes.
One remained intact.
A single leather-bound book rested on top.
Kaelen crossed to it. The family crest—three flames intertwined—marked the leather cover.
The Ward-Builder's Confession by Maera Virelle.
The first page held a single line:
"What the Seven Houses built was not salvation but theft."
She turned the page.
"Only three Council members knew the truth. We were building a weapon to drain the outer kingdoms and feed Erathil's eternal spring."
No.
The next page revealed more.
"House Drae protested. House Winters and House Frost joined the rebellion. The wardlight activated before the rebels could stop them. Seven kingdoms froze in seven days. Hundreds of thousands sacrificed to keep Erathil warm."
"Your mother kept meticulous records."
Kaelen spun round.
Riven stood in the doorway. The chains and prisoner's rags were gone. Something about him seemed insubstantial—shadows clung too close, and the torchlight passed through the edges of his form.
"You are using that shadow magic again."
The book's leather binding dug into her fingers.
He wants me to trust him. I want the truth.
But is he truly here, or merely a projection?
Riven entered the chamber. "This is where my ancestors perished fighting your Council. House Drae attempted to prevent this slaughter."
Ice formed on the stone floor where he walked.
"Your mother aided them."
"And they executed her for it."
"Everyone who opposed them." Riven touched one of the empty podiums. Ice spread from his fingertips across the scarred wood. "House Drae, House Winters, House Frost—all purged."
Kaelen studied the burn marks on the surrounding podiums.
"Who won?"
"Nobody wins when the wardlight feeds on death."
Riven gestured to the book. "Examine your mother's diagrams again."
Kaelen turned through more pages, finding technical drawings.
"Flame magic powered the wardlight. Ice magic directed the power. Blood magic bound it permanently."
"To construct the wardlight, yes." Riven closed the distance between them. "To destroy it requires the opposite method. Observe."
He placed his hand next to hers on the book's open page.
The air between them turned cold. Ice spread across the parchment, revealing hidden text beneath Maera's ink.
"Ice and flame working together."
"The wardlight feeds upon opposition between ice and flame magic. Ice fighting against flame creates the tension that powers it."
"Like water turning a mill wheel." Kaelen traced the revealed text. "But if ice and flame work in harmony..."
"The wardlight starves."
"How?"
Riven hesitated.
"Your mother discovered a method. But it requires perfect magical balance between our bloodlines. Complete magical joining. Permanent bond between ice and flame."
Kaelen's fingers found her pendant.
He wants me bound to him. I want another way.
"You speak of marriage."
"I speak of survival. For everyone."
"What would happen to us?"
"Your mother was not certain. We might survive as guardians of a new magical balance. Or we might perish completely."
"We might die."
"We might. But everyone perishes if we do nothing."
Footsteps thundered up the stairwell.
"The Council has discovered us."
"Discovered you." Riven began to fade, his form growing transparent. "They believe I remain chained in the dungeons. My body lies there still—but ice magic possesses more potential than your Council comprehends."
"What will you tell them?"
"Tell them whatever keeps you alive until dawn." His voice came from everywhere and nowhere. "Then choose—aid them in committing massacre, or risk everything for what is right."
Kaelen's breath no longer misted in the warming air.
The door burst open.
Councillor Frost entered with Elder Blackmere and six council guards.
"Senior Scribe Virelle." Councillor Frost moved to the central fire. His gaze swept the empty podiums before settling on her. "How did you gain entry to this sealed chamber?"
He wants to know how much I know. I want to survive this.
"The door was unlocked."
"Impossible." Blackmere strode forward. "This chamber has remained sealed for decades."
"Perhaps the wardlight's instability affects the enchanted locks?"
"Or perhaps someone with flame magic has been losing control of their abilities." Councillor Frost's gaze dropped to her pendant. "Magical seals respond to bloodline keys. Your pendant bypassed protections only Maera could unlock."
"You have always known."
Councillor Frost approached the podium where Maera's book lay open.
"I see you have discovered what your mother left you."
Tell them enough to seem useful. Nothing more.
"The wardlight requires both flame and ice magic for stability. Without ice magic to balance the flame component, the sun-stone fails."
"Excellent." Blackmere's hand rested on the nearest podium. "We possess the prisoner."
They mean Riven.
"However," Councillor Frost continued, "we have detected flame magic responses throughout the Archive. Walls responding to touch. Ancient scripts activating without authorisation."
"Tell me, child—when did you first manifest flame magic?"
He wants confirmation. I suspected but never truly knew until now.
"I do not understand your meaning."
"Do not feign ignorance." Blackmere turned from the podium. "Your cooperation is no longer optional."
"What manner of cooperation do you require?"
"At dawn, you shall begin the wardlight restoration ritual."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you burn. Along with everyone else, when the wardlight fails."
"What precisely constitutes this wardlight restoration ritual?"
"You shall learn at dawn." Blackmere gestured to the guards. "Escort her to her chambers. And this time, employ proper restraints."
"Wait." Kaelen found herself trapped. "I require more time—"
"Your study time has concluded." Councillor Frost turned away. "Your service begins with sunrise."
The warriors moved in. Iron cuffs locked around her wrists—cold, enchanted to suppress magical abilities.
As they dragged her towards the door, she looked back at Maera's book.
Ice spread across the open page where Riven's hand had rested—revealing new words:
Trust the ice. When dawn comes, let the wardlight destroy itself.
. . .
The guards marched her through corridors that seemed longer than before.
Her chambers had been transformed into a cell. Heavy chains by the window. Guards positioned outside her door.
"Sleep well," one guard said as they locked iron restraints around her ankles and wrists.
The door slammed shut.
Through her window, snow continued to fall. Above the city, the sun-stone's light flickered—pulsing with an irregular rhythm.
Hours until dawn.
Hours to choose between massacre and almost certain death.
Kaelen tested the chains. The iron was enchanted, but cracks spider-webbed through the enchantments where her magic pressed.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
"Kaelen?" The voice came through the door. "I am... a friend."
Chains rattled as she sat up.
"Who are you?"
"Someone who aided in killing your mother seventeen years ago."
Through the door crack, she glimpsed two guards slumped against the opposite wall, unmoving.
The lock clicked open. A hooded figure slipped inside, stepping over the unconscious guards. Keys jingled softly.
The hood obscured most of his face before he turned away.
He knelt and began unlocking the chains around her ankles.
He wants absolution. I want escape.
"Why do you help me now?"
"I was Halden's apprentice back then. A child who saw everything they did to your mother. I served the Council for fourteen years afterward, my guilt growing with each passing day."
"Three years ago, they decided I knew too much. I thought I had hidden myself well in the eastern storage rooms."
He pushed back his hood.
"I witnessed them murder your mother, and I did nothing. I shall not witness them murder you as well."
The last chain fell away.
"Tell me of this wardlight restoration ritual."
"It is not restoration, Kaelen. It is execution. They drain your flame magic to power the wardlight, then dispose of the remains."
Of course.
"What exactly did they do to her?"
"They strapped her to a crystal formation in the foundation chamber. Used her magic to feed the wardlight until nothing remained but ash."
"And Halden permitted this?"
"They threatened to kill every scribe in the Archive if he interfered."
The young man pressed a warm key into her palm.
"Your mother wished you to have this."
"What does it open?"
"The truth. The foundation chamber below. But you have perhaps twenty minutes before they check on you."
"Come with me."
He shook his head.
"Someone must delay the guards when they discover your absence. Tell them I observed you escaping towards the eastern wing. My deception should buy you time."
"They will execute you when they discover the lie."
He smiled, but did not meet her eyes.
"Living as a coward in the shadows is not truly living at all." He paused at the door. "Your mother discovered a method without magical bonding. Without sacrifice."
"The key will reveal everything. But make haste—dawn approaches, and they will not wait."
. . .
Kaelen moved through the Archive's corridors, avoiding the regular patrols she had memorised.
Twenty minutes to find answers that could preserve thousands of lives.
The foundation levels stretched deeper than she had imagined. Down spiral staircases worn smooth by centuries. Past storage chambers and forgotten rooms.
Her pendant pulsed with increasing urgency.
The warm key in her hand began to glow when she reached the lowest level. It guided her to a section of wall that looked identical to all the others—except for faint symbols that matched those on the Flame Sanctum door.
The key fitted perfectly into a hidden lock.
The door opened without sound.
The chamber beyond made her gasp.
At the centre stood a crystal formation taller than herself. Its surface pulsed with captured light—rhythmic and steady.
"So this is what powers massacre."
The moment her fingers brushed the crystal's surface, a silent alarm rippled through the Archive—invisible, but her bones rattled with it.
They know I am here.
"Most impressive, is it not?"
Councillor Frost's voice echoed from behind her.
She turned slowly to find the Councillor with Elder Blackmere and a dozen guards.
They want to use me. I want to understand.
"Did you truly believe we would not notice a breakout?"
Councillor Frost's gaze swept over her. "Your accomplice has already been apprehended. Young Darin Thess proved most forthcoming once we found him lurking near the eastern wing—precisely where he claimed you had fled."
No. The young man.
"He was merely—"
"Darin Thess." Councillor Frost adjusted his robes. "Once a promising apprentice. Three years past, he stole restricted materials and vanished into the Archive's shadows."
"We have known of his hiding place in the eastern storage rooms for months. Useful, allowing a guilty man to think himself clever. We knew he would eventually prove valuable. And so he has—by leading us directly to you."
"Please, he only wished to—"
Councillor Frost raised a hand. "He has been sent to the execution chambers. The Council has sentenced him to death."
Kaelen said nothing.
Councillor Frost stepped forward and plucked the warm key from her palm. He held it up to the torchlight, examining it briefly.
"Only the High Senior Scribe possesses such a key." Blackmere moved closer, studying the key in Councillor Frost's hand.
Councillor Frost tucked it into his robes. "He must have stolen it from Halden. Darin worked with the High Senior Scribe for years. He knew all the locks and routes to his chambers."
He turned back to Kaelen. "Your mother attempted the same escape plan seventeen years ago. We have been watching this chamber ever since. Every approach is warded. Every entrance alarmed."
Kaelen's hand fell from the crystal. "Maera tried to destroy the crystal?"
"Your mother attempted to save people who were already dead. Just as you are attempting to save the dead now."
"The outer kingdoms are not dead!"
"Are they not?" Councillor Frost gestured towards the crystal. "Touch it. See what it truly powers."
Two guards seized her arms. They forced her hands flat against the crystal's surface.
Visions flooded her mind:
Erathil, warm and green. Children playing in gardens. Crops growing year-round.
But beneath the beauty lay the cost:
Frozen wastelands. Empty cities buried under ice. Millions of people who had simply stopped. Frozen mid-stride, mid-word, mid-breath.
Kaelen wrenched her hands away.
"Draining the kingdoms is murder."
"Draining the kingdoms is survival. What would you have us do? Allow everyone to perish?"
"Find another way!"
"There is no other way."
"My mother found one!"
"Your mother found death." Councillor Frost moved to the crystal. "Your mother believed she could destroy the crystal gradually, transitioning power sources over weeks. She was wrong. Do you wish to test her theory? Then prove your mother's research correct. Destroy it."
Kaelen pressed both palms against the crystal. She channelled every bit of flame magic she possessed.
The crystal pulsed, responding. But her power flickered weakly against it.
Nothing changed.
"Did you truly think destroying the crystal would be so simple?" Councillor Frost observed her struggle. "Your flame magic has not fully awakened yet."
She strained harder. The crystal glowed brighter, nothing more.
"Then why do you require me at all?"
"Because the ritual will unlock your true potential. Only then will your flame magic prove sufficient to restore the sun-stone's power and stabilise the wardlight."
He gestured to the crystal.
"This crystal feeds the sun-stone above us. The sun-stone projects the wardlight across the kingdoms. The crystal cannot be weakened—only shattered. And shattering means instant death for Erathil."
"Without the crystal, the sun-stone dies. Without the sun-stone, the wardlight fails. Without the wardlight, everyone freezes within hours."
Everyone would die. Every person in Erathil.
"There must be another way."
"There was another way. But your foolishness has shown we cannot trust you with choices."
Heavy boots thundered down the stairs.
"Guards," Councillor Frost commanded. "Prepare the sacrifice altar. We begin the ritual immediately."
"Now? But dawn—"
"Dawn was a courtesy we can no longer afford. You chose defiance. Now learn the price."
More guards poured into the chamber, surrounding her.
They want my magic. I want to live. No one gets what they want.
Councillor Frost turned to Blackmere. "We have plans for stubborn children."
Torchlight surrounded her. Shadows moved across the crystal's surface.
Everything was about to change.
And there was nothing she could do to stop it.
End of Chapter 3
. . .
Next Chapter Preview: The Fatal Binding
In the Archive's deepest levels, Kaelen discovers the binding's lethal truth. Her mother's research reveals the devastating cost of destroying the wardlight. But when her pendant warns of shapeshifters wearing trusted faces, she realises the Council's plans have deadly secrets of their own. The prisoner knows more than he should. And dawn approaches faster than she thought.