These two chapters are a special treat for this weekend , Enjoy! đđđ
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The sect's mountain slumbered beneath a veil of mist, its peaks fading into the night sky. Lanterns glowed faintly along the stone paths, casting pools of light that seemed all the brighter for the weight of shadows in between.
Kaelen walked those shadows.
He moved with the discipline of one who had studied every patrol, every shift change, every pause where the watchful eyes of his seniors faltered. For weeks he had prepared this venture, and tonight, he tested the seams of their vigilance.
Ahead loomed the Archive Hallâan austere building with walls of black stone and a roof whose sweeping eaves bore carvings of serpents, stags, and lions. The sect's proud beasts. Few disciples ever set foot inside, and those who did were guided, supervised, kept far from the stacks where the oldest knowledge slept.
But Kaelen had no guide tonight. Only his serpent, faint and watchful, trailing beside him as a haze in the dark.
At the entrance, the wards hummed faintly. Layers of light spread across the doorway like ripples on still water. To anyone else, this was an impassable wall. To Kaelen's eyes, it was a net of meridian-like currents. He sank into his Insight, watching the flows twist and bend.
The trick was not to break them. Breaking screamed intrusion. The trick was to breathe with them.
He inhaled, weaving his Qi in a trembling mimicry of their rhythm. His serpent shivered, pressing against his soul, and together they stepped forward. The wards shuddered like rippling silk, then parted around him.
Kaelen slipped inside.
The Archive's interior was a labyrinth of shelves and shadow. Scrolls wrapped in oilskin and jade slips etched with faint runes filled the air with the smell of dust and ink. Lanterns glowed low, leaving more darkness than light.
He didn't wander aimlessly. He had overheard senior disciples whisper of a restricted alcove where techniques bordering on the forbidden were sealed awayâmethods discarded for being too dangerous, too corruptive, too sharp for the sect's rigid pride. Exactly what he needed.
Steps muffled against the stone, Kaelen followed the faint trace of heavier wards deeper into the stacks. Every so often, his Insight flickered, and he paused, mapping hidden seals as though they were veins in a body.
Finally, he reached it. A small gate of blackwood, set not at the heart of the library but at its forgotten edge. Dust lay thick on the floor, disturbed only by the faintest signs of recent passage. Someone had come here, but not often.
The serpent at his side hissed, faint silver eyes catching the lamplight.
Kaelen pressed his palm against the seal. Once again, the currents of restriction unfolded before him. But this one was older, more fractured, like a scar across flesh. He felt his way carefully, using the gaps in the pattern like stepping stones, untilâ
The seal broke with a sigh, the door creaking open.
Inside lay only a narrow chamber with three shelves. The first held slips of brittle parchment, their ink flaking at the edges. The second bore jade slips darkened with age. The thirdânearly emptyâheld a single beast fang, black as obsidian, humming faintly with residual Qi.
Kaelen's breath caught. He stepped forward, drawn as if by gravity. His hand hovered over the fang, the serpent within his Soul Palace stirring hungrily.
A whisper filled the chamber. Not sound, but memory. Echoes of screams, of tearing flesh, of battles long buried. His Insight flared, and for a moment, he saw the fang's meridians, twisted, violent, unlike anything orthodox.
Perfect.
He didn't dare take it outright. That would be noticed. Instead, he pressed his Insight against it, memorizing the currents, carving the image into his mind until sweat beaded on his brow. Every fragment would be precious later, to forge into something his own.
The whispers grew louder, almost overwhelming. His serpent hissed back, coils tightening protectively around his Soul Palace. Kaelen tore himself free with a ragged breath and staggered back.
Enough. Any longer, and he risked exposure.
He turned to leaveâ
And froze.
Outside the chamber, footsteps echoed. Slow. Deliberate.
A lantern's glow swept across the floor, faint shadows stretching toward him. Someone else was here.
Kaelen pressed against the wall, breath silent, serpent dimming its glow. Whoever it was lingered outside the chamber, then continued deeper into the stacks.
Only when the light faded did Kaelen slip through the wards again, retracing his path until the Archive doors fell behind him.
By the time he returned to his quarters, his body trembled with exhaustion. But his mind blazed.
The fractured pathways of the fang still seared his memory, and already he saw possibilitiesâsharp, hidden strikes no orthodox disciple would dare imagine.
Kaelen lay back, serpent coiling faintly at his side, silver scales glimmering faintly beneath its dull husk.
"Soon," he whispered into the dark. "Soon, you'll shed again."
And when you do, no chain, no seal, no rival will hold me.