(The Deep Vaults – Three Hours After Liora's discovery)
The disused study nook was silent except for the frantic scratch of Liora's stylus on paper. Toren's torch, hooded to a narrow beam, carved strips of light across her face as she hurried to copy the fragment's glimmering symbols. Her fingers trembled over the ink. Every mark felt alive and transient; the instant she drew it, the line would fade, as if the writing itself recoiled from the page.
"It's not just ink," Liora whispered, voice tight with both frustration and awe. "The symbols… they're alive, or at least recalling something. The light itself is the meaning." She shoved the half-finished copy toward Toren. He took the fragile paper between calloused fingers, tracing the dull lines with a frown. Moments before, he'd felt the warm glow from the real fragment in her satchel. Now this faded imitation conveyed none of that life — it felt utterly dead by comparison.
"And this phrase?" Toren asked, voice low. " 'Where the First Word bled, the Last Gate sleeps.' What does that mean?" Liora swallowed, chest tight. She took a steadying breath. "The 'First Word' isn't a word we speak," she said softly. "It's the original creation — the very first sound or act that carved the world into being. Some of the oldest prophecies call it the Sundering Syllable. After that act, they say reality cracked open and scarred."
"And the 'Last Gate'…" Liora continued, eyes flashing in the torchlight. "It's not an exit at all, Toren. It's a seal — a lock, keeping something back. Something that existed before the First Word. According to the legends, where the first creation bled its first light into the world, this seal holds that darkness captive."
Before Toren could answer, a rhythmic thud of heavy boots echoed outside the nook. Project Marduk on patrol. Both froze, hardly daring to breathe until the footsteps had passed. The silence that returned was brittle and tense.
"We can't stay here, not with the fragment," Toren said, jaw tight. "Meryn knows you were in the East Wing. Kernov's men will search every corner soon enough." He kept a hand on the hilt of his watch-axe. "We'll have to go somewhere else."
"Where, then?" Liora demanded softly, panic edging her voice. "The Archive is crawling with patrols."
Toren closed his eyes briefly and listened to the stone walls. Finally, he turned to her. "There is another place," he said quietly. "Far below. My grandfather spoke of it. Sealed off for ages. He called it the Chamber of First Light." His mouth tightened as he remembered the old warnings. "He said it was forbidden and dangerous — that even the stones themselves felt wrong down there."
Liora drew in a sharp breath. "The First Light… it has to be it," she said, voice trembling with wonder. "If the First Word's wound is the source of creation, then the very first light ever born… this chamber would be where it happened." She glanced at the old maps of the Archive in her mind, the twisting tunnels far below. "Toren, everything is pulling us down there. The prophecy, the tremors, the cold spots creeping through the floors… even Aris Thorne's artifact. I think they're all pointing to the Deep Vaults. We have to know."
Toren saw the fire in her eyes. He thought of Aris Thorne — her father — and the price he paid for this knowledge. He thought of the fear in the other scholars' eyes and the storm that had settled over the library. After a moment, he nodded. "All right," he said quietly. "We go. Now. While the patrols are above, and before anyone knows we've disappeared."
They shared a steady look, and then Toren slipped out of the nook. In the narrow beam of the torch, Liora could see determination in her guard's face that mirrored her own. They would descend into whatever lay below — together.
---
The tunnel was cold and oppressive. As they descended, the polished marble of the stacks gave way to rough stone corridors slick with damp. Toren's torch was a sliver of gold in the pitch; the rest swallowed them in darkness. A faint metallic tang hung in the air, and the deeper they went, a stale, coppery smell made Liora's throat itch. Each step echoed oddly, as if the cavern listened to their approach.
They moved deliberately. Toren led, one hand brushing the walls for guidance, the other never far from his weapon. Even he felt uneasy; he knew these service tunnels in theory, but darkness had a way of twisting memory. Suddenly the ground jolted — another tremor. Dust rained from the ceiling and they both froze, pressing flat against the cold stone. For a long moment, nothing moved but the trembling rock. Neither spoke.
Finally Toren stopped at a section of wall that looked unremarkable. He studied the stone with narrowed eyes. Then, moving fingers along the mortar lines like finding a key, he felt a slight give. With a grunt, Toren shoved the panel. It swung open on hidden hinges with a groan of protest, revealing a black archway beyond. A gust of frigid air burst out, smelling of rotten copper and something ancient. Liora stifled a gasp as a cold wave washed over them.
"This is it," Toren breathed. The hidden passage beyond the wall fell steeply into darkness. Rocks underfoot were slick and uneven — clearly long unused. They moved forward, Liora's heartbeat thudding in her ears. The tunnel walls here were not granite but a darker rock, streaked with veins of quartz that glittered faintly in the torchlight. In places the stone seemed to ripple and breathe, as if alive.
Liora traced a fingertip over one wall. It was cold and unnaturally smooth, like polished obsidian. A spiral and star symbol, carved or perhaps embedded, glowed faintly where her touch fell. "Toren… do these carvings look familiar?" she whispered. Toren leaned in, shining his torch on a cluster of shapes — circles and lines that twisted together. They matched the pattern on her fragment, but warped and jagged, as if corrupted by time.
The passage opened into a wide cavern. Toren swept his torch around the space. At the center stood a lone figure, back to them. For an instant Liora thought it was an effigy carved in white stone — until it moved.
A tall man in tattered scholar's robes was pressed against the wall, hands flat on the symbols. His skin was waxen pale; his sunken eyes stared at the patterns with a crazed intensity. Thin, dark veins mapped his flesh, pulsing faintly as if alive. Liora's stomach twisted. "Sch–Scholar Evran?" she breathed. Toren's axe rose slowly.
Evran didn't turn. A low, wet sound emerged as one vein on his neck split open. Black ink welled from the tear, thick and viscous, and dripped onto the floor with sick plinks. The pool of inky blackness swirled at his feet. Panic rose in Liora's throat. "Evran," Toren called softly, stepping forward. "It's us — Liora and Toren. Can you hear me?"
For a moment nothing happened. Then Evran's head jerked slowly toward them, eyes rolling into pure obsidian black. He opened his mouth, but no sound came — just that gargling wetness in his throat. Finally one word surfaced, slurred and spitting: "Writes…"
---
Kernov studied the scorched floor of Sector Gamma with grim detachment. Thermite charges had done their job — the artifact was gone, secured deep beneath the mesa. But on the monitors, Ada's eyes flickered restlessly as digital corruption spread through the Archive's databases. Tiny lines of code and ancient text on the screens twisted like living script, and reports streamed in: isolated corridors plummeting to freezing cold, structural tremors rattling the foundations.
Meryn hovered at the back of the control room, wringing his hands. His pale face was drawn. "Commander, the artifact's power — it's resonating," he said, voice quavering. "It's awakened something in the Archive's foundations. The ley lines, the old magics — they're stirring."
"Containment failed," Kernov said flatly, eyes still on the data feeds. "We thought scorching Sector G would stop it, but whatever it is keeps spreading." He turned to a tall officer. "Status on the girl, Thorne — Scholar Liora Thorne?"
Lieutenant Sona stepped forward. "Thorne, sir — she bypassed security in the East Wing after curfew. Eluded the first patrol. Last trace of her was heading toward the lower tunnels with Guard Toren."
Meryn paled. "The lower tunnels? But Commander — that leads to the Deep Vaults, the unstable chamber! With the artifact… This could be catastrophic."
Kernov's expression tightened. The flashing monitors painted half his face in red. Somewhere deep behind those surveillance screens, his mind was whirring. Finally he nodded. "Then send a squad. Level 3 clearance only. Bring them back — guard and scholar. Eliminate any resistance." His gaze snapped to Meryn. "You will accompany the squad, Master Meryn. Your knowledge of these vaults may keep them alive… or it will damn you."
Meryn's eyes widened, but he managed a shaky nod. As the team of black-armored guards assembled with their sleek rifles, Meryn double-checked his notes and gloves. He couldn't shake the image of Aris Thorne's silver hand — or the fear that he was about to lead more men to death beneath the Archive.
---
The cavern with Evran felt like a tomb within a tomb. The stale, stifling air carried the coppery tang of decay. Liora and Toren crouched in opposite corners, weapons ready but hearts hammering too loudly to hear anything else. The only sound was the slow drip… drip… drip of ink from Evran's neck into the black pool. The scholar's body remained still, head turned toward the wall as before.
Toren put himself between Liora and the thing that had been Evran. His axe was ready, though he had no idea it could actually harm whatever this was now. "We need to move around him," he murmured urgently. "Slowly — no sudden moves."
They edged along the rocky wall. Liora's eyes kept darting to Evran, but mostly she stared at the carvings where he had stood. The symbols were denser here, spiraling out from a circular depression roughly the size of a shield. In the torchlight it was almost like a mirror, a patch of unnaturally smooth black stone that seemed to swallow the light.
Evran's head pivoted slowly as they passed, those black eyes locked on Liora the entire time. A raspy gurgle began in his throat. "Fiiiind…" he croaked, voice dripping like the ink now pooling at his feet.
Liora froze. Her skin prickled. Then she felt it: a wave of heat, coming from beneath her hand on the satchel. The fragment was getting hot again. She gasped softly as the leather wrapping burned faintly through her fingers. "Toren?" she whispered.
Toren turned. "What is it?"
The creature didn't wait. In a raspy wet voice Evran slithered, "Yessss… Key…" It took a step toward Liora, one twisted foot scraping on the stone floor.
Toren lunged forward to position himself between her and the horror. "Stay back!" he shouted, voice echoing. The axe rang against the wall, sparks scattering. Evran ignored him, inching closer, black eyes locked on the satchel. "Giiive…" he rasped.
Liora's fingers trembled on the clasp of the satchel. Something in her chest tightened. Without quite understanding why, she had to obey some strange urge. She peeled open the leather wrapping, revealing the glowing fragment inside. It pulsed a bright, blinding blue-white light. Toren's voice pierced the whine of that light: "Liora, no!"
The carvings on the wall flared violently. The circular mirror of black stone began to ripple, as if a pond being disturbed. Liora felt the ground vibrate. She watched, breathless, as the pool at Evran's feet glowed in time with the fragment's pulse, and then washed across to the wall, seeping like dark ink into the rock. A deep humming filled her ears, and the chamber seemed to lean in closer.
Toren turned fully toward Liora. "Move away from it, now!" he yelled, but his words felt distant beneath the roar that had built to a crescendo.
The glassy orb in the stone convulsed. With a great shuddering crack, it split open. A blackness like viscous oil poured forth and spilled toward them. Tendrils of nothingness snaked into the air as if sniffing, brushing against the dripping ink pool on the floor. Evran's chest lifted in a last, guttural breath. He let out one final word, an almost contented whisper: "Opeeeennn…"
From the passage behind them came the sharp echo of armored boots and crackle of energy rifles. Meryn and the squad burst in, weapons raised. Toren barely had time to drag Liora down as something unfurled in the air — a darkness deeper than the night, reaching out with crawling shadows. For a heartbeat, everything went still — and then the darkness burst free, blotting out the torchlight as it poured into the chamber…