Zethar;

By the time my father leaves the capital, the palace feels larger than it should.

Everything feels... different. Stretched in a way that makes every corridor seem longer, every chamber colder, and every empty room empitier that it has any right to be.

My thoughts refuse to settle, and every attempt to focus slips back to the same point.

Back to Nagari.

To Elián. To Zephan, Koda, Aunt Selthía, Zerana... my people.

I left them.

That thought has been ringing in my mind since the moment my father gave the order for me to stay— and it has not moved since.

I keep telling myself my reason was valid. I keep telling myself I didn’t leave for nothing. That coming here was necessary.

But the truth! The truth mocks me ever so cruelly. It doesn’t change, no matter how I try to dress it up.

I left because I was frustrated. Because I felt... unseen.

Because Koda and Zephan were there, and everything about Elian seemed to orbit around them in a way I didn’t know how to place myself into.

So I left.

And now... now something is happening.

Something big enough to make Selthía speak the way she did, and serious enough to make my father—who looked like he was barely holding himself together—snap back into command the moment he heard it.

And I am here. Away from all of it.

...Finally useless in the true sense.

I remember how Elian looked reluctant to let me go. How he asked if I really had to, and how he begged me not to take long.

For the first time, it seemed like he truly needed me. Not Zephan... not Koda. Me! But I was too jealous... too upset to see it.

I shut my eyes are i reprimand myself.

The thought doesn’t just irritate me. It burns.

I stop at the end of the corridor without realising I have. My hands clench into fists at my sides before I force them to relax.

Standing still won’t fix anything. And thinking in circles won’t fix them either.

If I can’t be there, then at least I should understand what they’re facing.

Maybe knowledge of it would give e osme peace. Maybe I’m overthinking it. Worrying for nothing.

Aunt Selthia’s words echo again, sharp and clear in my memory, and I let out a breath.

The Black Sect has reawakened.

She didn’t explain. She didn’t elaborate... She didn’t give me anything beyond that sentence and the instruction to deliver it to Father immediately.

My jaw tightens.

This thing can shake both Selthía and my father like that... it is not something I can afford to ignore.

Not when my entire life is there.

I need to find out what this Black Sect is.

A faint... almost dream-like memory comes up in my mind. Vague and incomplete.

"What is this about?" I remember inquisitively asking Zephan as he read another novel. He adjusts his glass against the bridge of his nose and stares at the black book. Then he shrugs.

"I don’t know. I haven’t read that one yet. Looks like a book of spells. I don’t know why we’d have that in the royal library." He replied.

My tiny, uninterested hands flipped through its old pages. And two words stick out to me. Black Sect.

The memory vanishes as quickly as it came, and my heart starts pounding as realisation settles.

That book... is it still in the library? What if it has some information on the sect??

I start walking again, faster now, as my thoughts narrow into something more focused.

I’ve seen that name before. In the library.

In that hall, large enough to hold anything that’s ever mattered to this kingdom. In that hall, old enough that half of what’s inside it has probably been forgotten by everyone except the walls themselves.

If that book is real— If the memory I just remembered isn’t my mind playing tricks on me...

Then it will be there. My only hope of an explanation of what the fuck is going on.

I don’t hesitate as I turn toward the East wing.

******

The library hasn’t changed.

The moment I step inside, the air shifts, cooler, more serious, and carrying the scent of old parchments, books

and polished wood. Shelves stretch high and far, filled with records, histories, accounts that most people will never bother to read.

It’s quiet here. People hardly visit the room. Expect they have missions. Like me.

The room looms over me like it expects me to keep my voice low, even though there’s no one around to hear it.

I wonder how Zephan ever found peace in a place as frightening as this.

I don’t waste time.

I move straight toward the deeper sections, where the older texts are kept. The part of the library where records are less organised and more... buried.

If what I’m looking for is as old as I think it is, it won’t be sitting somewhere obvious. It’ll be... way buried.

I stare at the shelves that tower for feet above me, and I draw a deep breath.

This better be worth it.

I take the stairs at the back and start climbing. The higher I get, the dustier the books along the walls look.

I start pulling books.

One after another, scanning titles, flipping pages, and discarding anything that doesn’t match what I’m looking for.

Minutes pass...Then an hour... Then more, but I don’t stop.

I haven’t found what I’m searching for, but there’s this conviction that it’s here. Somewhere here, just waiting for me to find it.

The silence settles into my bones and subconsciousness. It’s thick and almost... almost therapeutic. The only thing that breaks the silence is the soft sound of me turning pages, and placing books back—or dropping them aside when they’re of no use.

I’ve been here for so long, and I’ve found nothing.

No mention of the Black Sect. No reference, no codes... Just fragments of history that don’t quite reach what I’m looking for.

I exhale sharply, dragging a hand through my hair before reaching for another shelf.

I know I’ve seen it. I’m not imagining it.

It was small. Black. Older than the rest.

Not something anyone would reach for unless they were specifically looking for it.

Which means— It wouldn’t be where everything else is.

It would be where things get pushed when no one cares enough to keep them visible.

The far back.

I turn, moving for yet another flight of stairs. Deeper and higher into the library, past the more organised rows, into sections that feel even less maintained.

The shelves here are older, the wood darker, the arrangement less precise. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

This is where forgotten things go.

I start again.

Slower this time. More deliberate.

I run my fingers along the spines instead of pulling everything out blindly as I search for something that feels familiar yet unknown.

Time slips again.

I don’t track it. I don’t care to. I can tell that it’s gotten dark outside, but I don’t care.

The only thing that matters is finding that book.

A quiet sound below me pulls my attention, and I glance over the railing. I realise how high up I’ve gotten.

Lioran walks in, hand on the hilt of his sword as he looks about for me. He’s so far down he almost looks small.

"Zethar?" He calls, and I let out a breath.

"I’m up here," I call back, and my voice echoes ominously.

His head snaps up, and he pauses when he sees me.

"What the hell are you doing up there?" He asks in utter confusion, and I shut the book in my hands.

"I’m looking for something," I reply, and he gives me a look.

"You’ve been in here all day." He points out, and I nod.

’I know. I’m not leaving until I find it.’ I reply, and he pauses.

"You missed lunch... and dinner."

"I know," I reply, and he falls silent. Then he shifts his stance.

"Does this have to do with the way Father left?" He questions, and I fall silent.

He lets out a breath, then drops his head.

"Stay there. Whatever you’re looking for. We’ll find it together." He says as he walks over to the stairs, and I blink in bewilderment.