Zethar;

"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.

I do not stop him... because to be honest, I can already feel the weakness seeping into my bones.

As much as I hate to admit it... I think I’ll need help finding that book.

I sit on the floor and wait in silence for him to reach me.

When I finally hear his footsteps approaching, I look up. He stops a few steps away, his gaze moving briefly over the scattered books around me before settling on my face.

"Wow!" He says, and I blink at him in silence.

He lets out a breath before pulling out a wrapped bun from his pocket, and my mouth falls open.

"I thought you’d be hungry." He says, and I stare in silence.

I take it from him without saying a word, and he watches as I eat the bun— My stomach betraying me by grumbling in joy from finally getting food.

He pulls his robe aside to reveal a small bottle he’s wearing across his torso.

He takes it off, sits in front of me, an dhands me the bottle.

I take it from him, and he stays silent as I eat and drink. In a matter of seconds, the water and bun are all gone, and I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, finally able to speak.

"Thank you," I say, and he gives me a small smile.

I watch as he picks up one of the discarded books and glances at its cover before setting it aside again.

"What are you looking for?" he asks, and this time, I answer without hesitation or secrets.

"The Black Sect," I answer honestly, and his brows crease.

"I’ve never heard that name before," he says slowly, and I nod.

"But I have. I’ve seen it in this library before. Years ago." I reply.

"That’s why I’m here," I add, and he exhales quietly, then nods once.

"Then I’ll help." He says, and I blink.

He’ll help?? Just like that? No questions, no interrogations??

"What type of book is it?" He asks as he stands, and I struggle to find my words.

"It’s uhm... black.. And old... fairly small too." I explain, and he nods as he helps me up.

"You start from the top of the shelf, I’ll start at the bottom." He says, as he gets to work, and I take a moment before joining him.

We work in silence, side by side. Searching, checking... Discarding...

It’s not right to leave him in the dark. He deserves to know. He’s clever and mature enough to handle it.

I take a deep breath before I start speaking.

I tell him about Aunt Selthía. About the way she spoke. About how she insisted the message be delivered immediately and only by mouth.

I also tell him about Father. About how he looked before I said it, and how he changed after.

I explain the fear to him. The urgency and Father’s decision to leave.

Lioran listens without interrupting, and that tells me he understands how serious this all is.

"They’re in danger," I finish quietly, and he just stares at me.

I can see worry in his eyes, but he doesn’t voice it.

We keep searching other shelves and floors, and just when I feel I might collapse, my hand stops on a small book.

It’s thin, grey, worn and pressed tightly between the other books... like it was never meant to be found again.

My fingers close around it as I pull it free slowly.

Dust clings to the cover, and my heart skips when I see the sigil of Nagari is faintly etched into the surface.

The book is old. Older than most of what surrounds it, and as I stare at it. I instantly am certain that this is the book from my memory.

"This is it," I say, and Lioran stops searching. He steps closer as I open it, and the smell of abandoned paper welcomes us.

The pages are yellowed. Fragile, but intact.

The moment my eyes dance over the first words, everything pauses.

"You might want to sit down for this one," Lioran whispers behind me, and I don’t argue.

We both sit, holding the book between us as we read.

The words are clear. Unapologetic, detailed and painfully sharp.

It indeed talks about the black sect. Their history, their origin, what they stand for... and every word I read makes my soul curl in disdain.

The members of the Black Sect are not outsiders.

They were Nagarians too.

That’s the first thing that settles heavily in my chest.

They are not enemies from beyond. They are not strangers... They are our own.

A group of my people, driven by something deeper than ambition.

Hunger.

They wanted more than what they had... More than what was allowed.

They rejected the balance that defined Nagari.

They didn’t want to become witches or warlocks and lose their beasts, and they didn’t want to remain ordinary practitioners with limited access to magic like the few Nagarian magicians.

They wanted more. Power without caution. Strength without limits.

So they made a sacrifice— Each sacrificing a significant member of their families. From spouse to twin, to child...

A pact.

...With something that should never have been touched.

A... demon!!!

The book doesn’t give it a single name.

Just references.

Warnings.

And the result of that choice... That sacrifice gave the Black Sect power.

It wasn’t clean, though. It wasn’t natural.

It was corrupt. And that corruption spread.

Nagari began to rot.

Not metaphorically, but physically.

The land itself began to change. Decay crept into places that had never known it.

The balance that held everything together began to break, and the Sect didn’t stop.

They didn’t hide. They wanted control.

All of it.

They wanted Nagari.

The war that followed is described by the book in fragments.

Enough to understand, not enough to forget.

Members of the sect couldn’t be killed. No matter what was done to them. No matter how many fell.

...They came back. Again. And again. And again.

The only solution... Was sealing them.

And even that came at a cost.

My grip tightens slightly on the page as I continue reading.

My grandfather... I was never told anything about him.

King Zarathel...

He made a decision to end this. He gave his daughter—my mother—to Father in marriage.

Father’s marriage to my mother was born out of necessity.

To combine powers strong enough to fight what couldn’t be destroyed.

My father... And my grandfather together fought against something that shouldn’t have existed.

My throat tightens slightly as I reach the final part of the account.

The war ended. The Sect was sealed.

But my grandfather... Died in that war.

Silence settles between Lioran and me as I close the book slowly.

The weight of what we just read sits heavily in my hands... In my chest....In my thoughts.

"They’re back," Lioran whispers, and I let out a breath.

"They never left," I answer, because now... now I understand.

Now I know why Aunt Selthía reacted the way she did. Now I know why Father changed the moment he heard the name.

I now understand why he left— why he told me to stay.

My gaze drops briefly to the book again as heaviness floods my heart.

"Our family is in grave danger," I mutter, and this time... there is no doubt in it.

Once again, trouble has found us.