The Hall of Drafts was quiet at last.
The ashes of Editors still smoldered faintly on the marble floor. The guilds tended their wounded in uneasy silence — Crimson Fangs binding cuts with rough hands, Spirewatch scribes muttering spells of mending, Elysian Dawn healers casting golden light over their elites.
But the air was heavier than exhaustion. It was suspicion.
Every hunter present had seen it. The guild masters shouting orders had faltered, their formations had collapsed. And yet Elias Crowe, the guildless librarian, had held the line. Worse — the outcast scholar had read the battle better than anyone.
Whispers buzzed in corners, low and venomous.
"Did you see the way he rewrote their power?"
"It's unnatural."
"He's not a hunter. He's… something else."
---
By the Firelight
Later, in a corner away from the guild camps, Elias sat against a cracked shelf, his Codex hovering silently beside him. Lyra knelt nearby, coaxing a faint flame into existence with her staff. Caleb hunched forward, scribbling on fresh parchment illuminated by the firelight.
They looked, for a brief moment, less like fugitives in a divine library and more like companions sharing a camp.
Caleb finally broke the silence. His voice trembled at first, but steadied with each word.
"I thought… if I ever made it this far, I'd be terrified. Editors, Authors, all of it. But when I called their edits… when you listened, Elias…" His throat tightened. "I didn't feel like a failure anymore."
Lyra smiled faintly, her violet eyes soft in the glow. "That's because you're not. You were right all along. The guilds just didn't want to hear it."
Caleb laughed shakily, running a hand through his messy hair. "They called me mad. Said I was obsessed. Maybe I am. But if obsession got me here, maybe that's fine."
Elias adjusted his glasses, studying Caleb with his calm, sharp gaze. "Obsession isn't madness. It's focus. And right now, focus is the only thing keeping us alive."
Caleb swallowed hard, blinking behind cracked lenses. "You really mean that?"
"Yes," Elias said simply. "You read what others couldn't. That makes you necessary."
Caleb looked away quickly, heat rising to his face. For someone dismissed all his life, the word necessary was heavier than any praise.
---
Lyra's Quiet Conflict
Lyra stirred the fire, watching the sparks rise. She had been silent longer than usual. Finally, she said, "You know the guilds will never forgive this, don't you?"
Caleb frowned. "They should be thanking us—"
"They won't," Elias interrupted, his voice calm but certain. "Guilds don't survive on gratitude. They survive on control. And control doesn't allow for outliers."
Lyra's lips pressed into a thin line. "You make it sound so simple."
"It is," Elias said, adjusting his cracked glasses. "They'll tolerate me until they think they can erase me. Then they'll try."
Lyra stared into the flames, her staff across her knees. She remembered Seraphine's calculating smile, the cold precision in her guild master's words. Elias wasn't wrong.
The realization tightened her chest. How long until I have to choose? Them… or him?
She glanced at Elias, the firelight catching the glint of his glasses, the steady calm in his posture despite everything. And for the first time, she wondered if she had already chosen without realizing.
---
Elias's Ideology
After a long silence, Elias spoke again. His tone was quieter, almost reflective.
"The Editors erase. The Authors write. And the guilds… they follow. But none of them care what's actually written. They care only that the story keeps them on top."
Lyra tilted her head. "And you?"
Elias's eyes burned faintly in the firelight. "I care about the manuscript itself. The truth. If this world is nothing more than an abandoned draft, then I want to know why it was abandoned. And if the Authors mean to finish it their way…" His lips curved into the faintest smile. "…then I'll write a better ending."
Caleb shivered. "You talk like you're one of them."
Elias looked at him evenly. "I'm not an Author. I'm a reader. And readers see what the Authors don't."
The Codex pulsed faintly at his side, as though approving.
---
Unfinished Pages
The fire dwindled low. The guild camps quieted into uneasy rest.
But Elias did not sleep. He sat with the Codex open, eyes tracing the glowing script. One page in particular pulsed faintly, unlike the others.
> [Footnote Locked.]
"The first dungeon was not written to be fought. It was written to be read."
Elias's fingers brushed the text. His lips tightened. Then that's where I'll find it. The beginning.
He closed the Codex, the glow dimming.
Lyra slept lightly against her staff. Caleb dozed over his notes, quill still in hand.
And Elias watched the fire burn low, glasses glinting, already reading the next page.