Vale ate his food with a bitter expression etched widely across his face. Every bite felt mechanical, a hollow routine, though his stomach growled faintly in protest. The table was silent, heavy with the weight of exhaustion and lingering tension. They had all endured their trials, but recovery was slow, both in body and mind. Yet amidst this shared stillness, one detail stood out with uncomfortable clarity, the high priestess did not eat.
She sat perfectly still, hands folded delicately in her lap, her posture immaculate. Not a plate had touched her, not a single movement betrayed hunger or discomfort. Vale's eyes flicked to her with a mixture of curiosity and unease.
'Does she not need food?' he wondered, before shaking his head and taking another bite.
'Not that it's any of my business.'
He chewed slowly, savoring the taste even as his mind churned. When he finally swallowed, he pushed the plate aside, rose, and took a deliberate step back from the table.
"Do I have a room?" he asked, keeping his tone neutral but firm, eyes fixed on the priestess.
She turned to him and inclined her head slightly, her lips curling into a kind smile.
Vale's gaze narrowed. "You lied, didn't you?"
For the briefest instant, her smile faltered, a shadow of seriousness crossing her face. Then it returned, sharper, warmer, and somehow more knowing.
"You're as sharp as ever, huh?" she said, waving a hand casually. "Your room is outside that door. And if you wish, we also have a large library, plenty of books to keep you… entertained."
Vale studied her silently, weighing her words. Finally, he exhaled through his nose, a subtle sound of resignation and relief. "If I can read some books, that would be nice," he said, turning toward the door.
The priestess lifted her hand again. When Vale opened the door, his breath caught in his throat.
Before him stretched a library that seemed to defy reason. Countless rows of towering shelves disappeared into shadows high above, their contents endless, infinite. Each book seemed older than the last, worn with the weight of time, the scent of ink and parchment thick in the air. It was a hall of knowledge that seemed alive, silent yet pulsing with history.
Vale stepped inside, eyes wide, heart quickening with anticipation. And then he heard her voice.
She did not raise it, yet the words traveled clearly, as if she were standing beside him, even though she remained seated at the round table behind him.
"If you wish to go to your room," she said softly, "simply think of it. The doors will answer."
Vale glanced back, his chest tightening slightly. A small calm began to settle over him as he nodded, taking a deep breath. Then he stepped forward fully into the library. The door closed on its own behind him with a muted click, leaving him alone among the towering shelves.
For a moment, he simply stood there, motionless, taking in the vastness. The library seemed to stretch farther than any eye could reach. A faint smile touched his lips despite the tension coiling in his chest. Slowly, he reached out, fingers gliding over the spines of the books, scanning titles, brushing over faded lettering and cracked leather.
Eventually, one title caught his attention.
'Nirvana.'
He repeated it aloud under his breath, narrowing his eyes. Something about the book called to him. Dust coated its surface thickly. Vale blew it away and lifted the volume from the shelf, opening it carefully.
"I see," he murmured.
The pages detailed the mechanics of Nirvana, how to access it, how to endure the strain it placed on the body and soul. Much of it repeated what he already knew, but the structure alone was valuable. Nirvana required effort, control, and tools to master. Any reference could save him time, perhaps even preserve his life.
He settled against the cold stone floor, leaning his back against the shelf. Page by page, he absorbed the text. Minutes passed. Hours blurred. Most of it was familiar, but Vale read with care, following every instruction, noting every nuance.
Then he turned a page and froze.
"Huh?"
The chapter was gone. Torn out entirely. The edges of the page were jagged and frayed, deliberately removed. Vale's heart tightened.
'This chapter… it should have detailed the first users of Nirvana…'
His eyes narrowed, lingering over the gap, a sense of unease settling in his chest. Someone had deliberately hidden this knowledge. He closed the book with a sigh, knowing that reading further would be largely pointless.
"Why… why were the pages missing?" he whispered, almost to himself, staring down at the cover once more.
Vale stood, shaking off the frustration that crept up in his chest. He would find something else, something useful, something that would help him grow, rather than dwell on mysteries he could not yet solve.
He wandered deeper into the library, moving slowly, absorbing the rows upon rows of books. Time passed without notice until a single volume drew his gaze. It sat alone on a shelf, isolated. No neighboring books. Its surface was thick with dust, its title was barely legible. The air around it seemed… heavier.
Vale approached, hand hovering above the cover, hesitating only for a moment before brushing the dust aside and lifting it fully. His eyes widened slightly as he read the title:
'The Old Gods?'
Curiosity and disbelief battled in his chest. He carefully opened the book, expecting dense, ancient knowledge.
The first page was blank.
He turned another. That to was blank.
"That's… strange," he muttered, brow furrowing.
Page after page, the book remained empty. Thick, yellowed parchment, untouched by ink. The more he flipped, the more certain he became: this book was hiding something.
Finally, he reached the last page, letting out a frustrated breath. "Nothing?"
But as he turned the final page, his heart leapt, and then froze. Words were scrawled across the paper in a messy, uneven hand, jagged and hurried:
'They are listening.'
A chill ran down his spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Vale swallowed hard, his voice barely audible as he repeated the words aloud, almost as if saying them could summon the unknown presence closer.
"They… are listening."
The silence of the library pressed in around him, dense and suffocating. It was as though the shadows between the shelves had grown alive. For a moment, Vale was certain he was no longer alone, that the walls themselves were aware of his presence, observing him.
Vale's fingers trembled slightly as he reached into one of the hidden pockets of his armor, retrieving the strange mask that had long remained a mystery. Its surface was cold, almost alive beneath his touch, and yet he felt an inexplicable draw to it. With a deep breath, he lifted it to his face and secured it over his eyes.
The effect was immediate. His senses sharpened, each shadow and crevice of the library standing out in sharp relief. Dust motes drifted lazily in the beams of torchlight, every faint sound amplified, every subtle scent, a hint of old parchment, stone, and something darker, piercing through the air. Yet, even with this sudden clarity, Vale could not identify the source of the unease that prickled at the edges of his mind.
He exhaled slowly, his breath fogging slightly in the cold, stone-scented air. His gaze fell once more upon the book of The Old Gods, and his stomach twisted. The pages, previously blank, now bore new text. Words had appeared as if conjured by some unseen hand:
"We are waiting… mistake."
Vale's eyes widened, his pulse quickening. The letters seemed to burn into his mind, each one resonating with a subtle, chilling energy. He stared at them for what felt like an eternity, the silence of the library pressing down on him, almost sentient.
Finally, trembling, he lifted the mask from his face. The page before him was ordinary once again. Blank, unremarkable, except for the single message he had read a moment ago. His brow furrowed, his jaw tightening.
"What…?" he whispered, disbelief cracking his voice.
Slowly, almost ritualistically, he placed the mask back over his eyes. The hidden text flickered into existence once more, each word seeming to crawl across the page as though alive:
"We are waiting… mistake."
Vale's pupils narrowed, a mixture of fascination and dread coiling in his chest. He leaned closer, reading the ominous words again and again, each repetition embedding a sense of unease deeper into his bones. What was this book? Who were they? The questions burned in his mind, unanswered yet undeniably present.
Time stretched as he remained motionless, eyes fixed on the cryptic text, the library around him falling into shadow and silence. The world outside, the distant echo of the temple, the faint hum of torches, faded into insignificance. It was as if the book had absorbed reality, leaving only itself and the invisible presence that lingered behind its words.
After what felt like hours, Vale finally set the mask aside, closing the book with deliberate care. He placed it back on the shelf where it belonged, though his gaze lingered, wary and calculating. The air seemed heavier now, almost aware, as though the library itself were watching him back.
As he straightened, a subtle shift in the shadows caught his eye. A book stood upright, isolated, waiting on a shelf before him. Its presence was almost deliberate. His heart skipped a beat. He recognized the title immediately, a name etched in memory from the cave where he had once discovered the ominous warning.
He took cautious steps forward, his boots echoing softly against the stone floor. His fingers hovered over the cover before brushing away decades of dust. Vale's lips parted slightly as he repeated the title under his breath, each word heavy with unease and anticipation:
"False Angels…"