He shifted his focus to the gate. It was larger than any he’d seen in the Deeps, perhaps as large as Heaven’s Door. Pushing it open with his hands was impossible. Void, he doubted even a dozen men could move it with strength alone.

  He flipped his satchel, spilling its contents onto the ground. Besides his photrines and climbing equipment, he had a radethyst, some pyrpphires, and a single cryoby. Useful for creating fireworks, but they’d never dent this door.

  He shifted his focus to the wardens. Two chatted calmly near the pyre, barbecuing meat, while three more played a heated game of cards nearby with shouts and jeers. Their astra leaned against walls or lay discarded on the floor.

  These wardens were lax, and they had every right to be. He’d reached this place after hours of painstaking navigation, coupled with blind luck. He doubted the library ever had an unwelcome visitor.

  He studied the astra. They were too far, but he was certain at least one of them was a metalsmith responsible for opening the gate.

  Then he had a clear, but difficult task: find the metalsmith and convince them to get off their lazy butt, and crack open the gate.

  Shivering in the chill, Skye hugged himself, pondering his plan. He considered rushing toward the bunkroom to hide there until they opened the gate. But the area in front of the door was too exposed, and there was no telling when Dray, or anyone else, might come by.

  A second option was to pretend to be lost and injured, asking for help. Maybe they’d take pity on the half-dead kid and help him inside to recover. Or, more likely, they’d put him out of his misery and resume their game. Wardens were cruel like that, he’d learned.

  His thoughts fizzled as the scent of roasting meat filled the cavern. The leg of lamb spun slowly above the glowing pyrpphires, dripping fat that hissed and sizzled. For a moment, that meat was all he could think about. His stomach growled so loudly the wardens flinched and reached for their weapons, and he had to cast his curse.

  So maybe he didn’t have a way into the library yet. That didn’t mean he had to starve.

  Slipping from his hiding place, he sprinted across the open cavern toward the pyre. Several wardens spotted him and lunged for their astra. With one ring, he had them returning for their seats… until they saw him again.

  After thirty chimes, he managed to snatch the meat and duck behind a nearby stalagmite, his head pounding painfully. Still, he held the hot thigh by the bone, tearing into the steaming flesh with hungry bites. Looking back, he noted a replicate leg had appeared above the pyrpphires.

  “Why is there a kid eating your food, you dimwits?” asked a man with a nasal voice.

  In his fluster, Skye tossed the lamb and squeezed himself behind the rocks, ringing his bell. The poor meat didn’t even reach the ground, disappearing midair. Cursing angrily, he turned toward the newcomers.

  “Chief Emery!” a warden said as the duke’s brother emerged from the tunnel leading to the library. Seven wardens escorted him, all armed, hooded, and carrying gemstones for illumination. “You’re early.”

  Skye furrowed his brows. Akunai was the Chief Warden, everyone knew that. He commanded both the Dusk Wardens, responsible for the security of Solarite District, and making trade runs, and the Dawn Wardens, which guarded the duke and his family.

  But there were also rumors about a third, secretive group of wardens, called Twilight Wardens that worked independently from the other teams. Was Emery their leader?

  Was he in charge of the Secret Library?

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I disrupt your very important schedule?” Emery drawled “Should I go back to the surface and return when your card game’s over?”

  The warden stiffened. “Apologies, my lord, I only meant we would’ve prepared—”

  “Oh, spare me your bootlicking,” Emery snapped. “Get me some water. This journey’s worn out my old bones.”

  The wardens sprang into action. One fetched a flask, another awoke their sleeping companion, while the rest collected the cards and tidied the post. Emery and his escorts marched to warm themselves by the pyre.

  “And why are your astra on the ground?” Emery asked, his chin dripping water. “What if a stonebear came running through this tunnel? You think it’ll wait politely while you idiots pick up your weapons?”

  “Nothing’s come through in weeks, my lord,” another warden said, picking up her staff. “Not even a bat.”

  “Well, someday something will come, and you won’t be ready,” Emery retorted. “Keep your astra close and stay alert, I won’t tolerate any more negligence. Now open this door, I’m freezing.”

  Skye primed himself on his elbows for a better view. One of the wardens donned a heavy metal helmet, studded with silvery feeryxes, then reached out to pull invisible chains connected to the gate.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  With a grinding groan, the massive slab of metal slid open, scraping against the stone floor.

  This was the chance he’d needed. He wanted to rush through now, but the number of wardens between him and the library more than doubled, and they were all on guard.

  Like a wasp’s sting, sharp pain tinged the back of his neck where Akunai had almost killed him earlier this morning. If any of these wardens had half the skills and awareness of their chief, Skye would be torn to shreds halfway across the cavern.

  The metallic door thudded to a halt, only a quarter of the way open. Skye crept out of hiding. It was dangerous, but who knew how long it’d be before he got another chance like this?

  Emery entered with a couple of wardens while the others remained outside, fourteen in total. Skye reached into his pocket, felt his gems, and ran.

  Eyes widened, jaws dropped, and shouts rose instantly.

  Ding.

  Muscles tightened, arms twisted, and astra took aim.

  Dong.

  Skye slammed into the table, flipping it over and casting his curse. He crouched behind it, hiding, as a warden commented it was time to pick it up. Steeling his nerves, Skye flung all his gems toward the glowing pyre and bolted, dragging the overturned table behind as a shield.

  He’d expected a big flash, a loud bang, and a puff of fire. Something to distract the wardens with for the seconds he needed to cross to the gate. What he got instead was a ballooning blaze of burning red, and a shockwave that launched nearby wardens off their feet.

  He crashed shoulder-first onto the hard stone and skidded to a stop just feet from the half-open gate. His bones rattled. His muscles ached. A drum banged in his head, and he blinked, shaking his head to steady the spinning world. Moans and groans rose all around, followed by shouts and rushing footsteps. Through his bleary vision, he saw wardens bleeding, stabbed by shrapnel, others shaking and holding their burned arms where their fire-resistant cloaks failed to shield them. Dust and debris rained from the ceiling, but it didn’t seem like a cave-in was imminent.

  Fighting through the pain, Skye patted himself down for injuries. His clothes were licked by the fire, but left unburnt thanks to the now charred table. The only real damage was the raw scrape across his shoulder where his sleeve was torn.

  Ringing his bell, he dashed through the smoke and chaos toward the gate as voices from inside shouted, asking what in the Void happened.

  Inside the library, he dove behind a pile of books stacked near the door just as Emery and the two wardens came running. The bell’s chime didn’t stop the cries outside. He peeked through the crack, watching the injured wardens writhing, while others tended their wounds. The pyre was nothing but a crater now.

  They’d think it was an accident, or someone else’s fault entirely. But he knew it was him. He felt guilty. Almost. Because he remembered what the wardens had done to him and his team and what he was trying to stop. As Emery berated and barked orders, Skye slipped deeper inside, and for the first time, saw the library in all its immensity.

  It was a garden of leather and paper. Towering rows of tree-high bookshelves stretched in every direction, so full of papery fruit, some lay scattered around their bases. Books and parchments, scrolls and tomes, littered the floors, choked tables, blocked hallways, and rose in precarious mounds everywhere. Overhead, a starry canopy of a thousand floating chandeliers lit the immense space in a warm, steady glow.

  From his perch atop the stairs near the entrance, Skye sought to comprehend the true scope of this place, feeling a sense of ultimate, unbridled wonder.

  This exceeded all his expectations. Not even the duke’s library was this grand. Coals, he’d bet his left arm there were more books here than in all of Troqua combined.

  This was the hidden library, a well of knowledge that no ordinary Troquean was even supposed to know existed. And yet he stood here. With nothing and no one to stop him from feasting on its secrets. It wasn’t his lifelong dream of exploring the world, but it was the next best thing.

  Footsteps approached from outside. He rushed down the stairs, weaving between stacked books and into the labyrinth of the library.

  The books were in remarkably good condition, untouched by mold or petrification. Some materials never stonified in the Deeps like steel or caveboar hide. And he’d assumed the books here were made of them as Lyonel had described. But most were normal books, made of plain paper and leather.

  A book screamed as he passed it. Jumping away, he cast his curse, revising his earlier observation. As he wandered deeper into the library, he noticed other bizarre books, glowing, or steaming, or even jumping as if monsters were imprisoned inside their pages and fought to break free.

  He gave those a wide berth.

  The bookcases turned out to be oak wood. He scratched his head. Such material couldn’t survive six hours in the Deeps, not in this pristine condition. Looking around, he noticed the many plants decorating the space: green vines curling around stair rails, bright flowers sprouting from ceramic pots, ferns thriving in the corners.

  Something was wrong here. Even the air was fresh. Now that he could think straight, he deliberated how juicy that lamb had tasted. How the wardens were asleep or laidback, not at all worried about contamination.

  Clusters of crystals and gems covered the ceiling, most of which he couldn’t recognize. Could they be holding the Deeps’ Geo fantasia at bay?

  Shaking his head, he decided not to worry about such matters now. This was great news. It meant he could spend as much time as needed here without worrying about having to return to the surface to detox. Rolling up his sleeves, he picked a book.

  “The Crusade Against Faith.”

  He paused, looking around. There were hundreds of thousands of books here. Maybe millions. It was a cause for celebration as there was a high chance he’d find one that discussed his curse. But it also terrified him, as he might search for ages, never finding it.

  Ignoring his concerns and fatigue, he opened the book in hand, searching for any mention of curses or mental magic.

  The more pages he went through, the more anxious he grew. There were gaps amidst the sentences, words removed. Names, locations, dates, and other important information were simply gone. Sometimes, entire paragraphs were deleted, or even pages. The last four chapters were blank.

  He had not risked his life, traveling miles underground to reach an empty library. Hurriedly, he reached for other books, checking them one by one, horror mounting with each page.

  “No,” he whispered. “No, no, no.”

  All were corrupted, presenting fragmented data without context. It was so terrible he couldn’t tell if these books were historical or fiction. One book was completely empty.

  Biting his lower lip, he sat aside books which might contain useful information and left searching for more.

  **********