The door creaked open on hinges that should’ve rusted centuries ago.

  And beyond it lay… a library.

  Rows of shelves stretched higher than the torchlight could reach, stacked with tomes untouched by time. Dust clung thick to the spines, cobwebs drooped like silk veils between beams, and the air smelled of parchment and rot. Staircases curled up either side, vanishing into balconies lined with even more doors.

  Mary froze beside me, her breath catching.

  “Damian… this place…” she whispered. “It’s a complete record. The Empire’s history - laws, wars, saints’ decrees… right from the formation - the beginning.” Her fingers brushed a shelf reverently. “Half of this knowledge should have been lost.”

  I checked my pocket watch.

  09:17... we're cutting it short.

  “Yeah, well,” I said, snapping it shut, “we’ve got less than three hours before the Regents deadline. So make your discoveries quick. Maybe we can figure out who this place belonged to.”

  She smiled faintly, seemingly giddy like a child with a new toy.

  “Just a minute,” she murmured, already drifting toward a nearby shelf.

  I sighed but followed, letting her curiosity run wild. She skimmed across spines marked with sigils and seals of ancient Imperial script, while I pulled random volumes free - histories of early humanity, law codes rewritten during the Empires formation, even front line reports from the fight against the Veil.

  Then one book caught my eye. Its spine was stamped with a faded emblem - two shapes intertwined, one pale as ash, the other dark as soot. A dove and a crow, their wings coiled together in perfect symmetry. Above them, a singular eye open - staring directly at me.

  I froze.

  That wasn’t just the Imperial crest.

  “The hell…” I whispered, brushing the dust off the cover. “This… this is the seal of the Inquisition.”

  Suddenly, I heard Mary gasp in horror.

  “Mary?”

  I hurried over - and stopped dead.

  Skeletons.

  Dozens of them.

  Some still seated at desks, hands frozen over open books. Others huddled in corners, clinging to empty bottles or locked in silent prayer. A few looked as though they’d simply lain down and never stood again.

  Mary shook her head, slowly breathing as she regained her composure. “Sorry, it just... caught me off guard.”

  “It's fine,” I said quietly, glancing strangely at the skeletal remains. “From what I've found, this place was an Inquisitor base.”

  Mary furrowed her brows, taking a fleeting glance at the skeletons.

  "I saw. It doesn't look like there was a struggle. The only option left is..."

  I continued her sentence, rubbing my chin in thought.

  "Suicide."

  I looked towards the line of skeletons. Some in cloaks, some with normal clothes. But one thing caught my eye.

  "They all seem to have come down those stairs. That's where we will find our answers."

  Mary nodded her head, following my lead.

  We took the stairs to the right. At the top, a single wooden door loomed, its plaque carved with words in the Old Empiric tongue:

  The Silent Hand.

  I frowned.

  The Silent Hand. Another rank I've never heard of - all I know is I'm a part of the empty hand. Whatever the silent hand is, they're important enough to die for secrets.

  I pushed the door. It groaned open into an office lined with overturned shelves, papers blackened by mold.

  And at the desk…

  A skeleton, slumped over, its bones fused into the chair. One hand clutched a crumbling letter. In the corner, a blackened pile of ash hinted at what might’ve been uniforms or books.

  I stepped forward carefully, bowing my head as I eased the parchment from brittle fingers.

  “Mary,” I said quietly. “Read it.”

  She took it reverently, and her voice carried the weight of words written centuries ago:

  “To whomever discovers this place-

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The order has been given. The Emperor himself commands that all records of it be purged. Every word. Every trace. Every witness. This place, where it was first called into being, must be erased. The only reason I am even privy to such information is because I am the intelligence officer.

  First came the Apostles’ betrayal. Then half the Saints turned against one another. The Emperor struck them down, yet now even we are condemned. The reason is not revealed - only that this place, and all who’ve touched it, must vanish.

  I have no quarrel with my death. If my blood shields humanity, I offer it gladly. But unease clings to me still. To give my life while knowing nothing - while staring into the dark blindfolded - tests even my faith.

  Still… the Emperor’s wisdom is infinite. I must trust his will. If silence is demanded, then silence I shall keep.

  - Watcher S.”

  Mary’s hands trembled faintly as she lowered the letter, complicated feelings drowning in her gold irises.

  I rubbed my temples, exhaling hard. “A suicide order. For every rank, every member. Even the Silent Hand, which must be the Inquisitions intelligence division.”

  Mary swallowed, her lips pale. “…This knowledge… Damian, what is this thing they were erasing?”

  My jaw clenched. “Whatever it is, it’s erasure was signed by the Emperor himself. Even those that knew nothing had to be killed. But why? And what did they know?”

  Mary said nothing. Only turned toward the next door.

  Each chamber was the same. Offices left to ruin, skeletons at desks. One by one, Mary read them aloud. Another Silent Hand who wrote of her children in her final words. A Watcher who begged forgiveness for doubts he couldn't voice. Variations of the same truth - obedience unto death.

  Until we reached the last door. Its plaque read:

  The High Hand.

  I muttered under my breath. “Well, if that doesn’t sound like the big shots…”

  The door swung wide.

  This room was larger, more ornate, its high ceiling etched with old Imperial crests. In the center stood a great round table. Bottles of liquor lay empty across it, glasses still half-filled. And seated around it - seven skeletons, slumped in their chairs.

  At the head, the largest of them all clutched a rusted knife in one hand, a letter in the other. Dried stains trailed down the table.

  Mary grabbed her necklace lightly and gave a prayer in respect. “Saints preserve us…”

  I stepped forward, easing the letter loose with both hands. “Read it.”

  She did. Her voice faintly shaking.

  “To the Emperor, to the Servants of Humanity, and to whoever may stumble upon our folly:

  I have gathered my most loyal. We made certain all others fulfilled their duty. Then we raided the stores, drank, and laughed one final day as men.

  The poison ran out before we could use it ourselves. So I thought it appropriate to get them drunk. I slit their throats one by one, so they might not waver in their task. They trusted me. I pray the Emperor will forgive me.

  But I cannot lie to these pages. Unlike the others, I know why.

  Unlike them, I was permitted to sit at the feet of the High Table.

  The stench of it remains here - the thing we uncovered here, or rather, what it left behind.

  At first, it seemed a disease of the soul. Whispers. Nightmares. The afflicted saw shapes in the dark, claimed the shadows themselves spoke. Then the body followed - veins blackened, bones hollowed and shadows seemed to gain sentience. Their small bodies couldn't handle it - and the shadows consumed them.

  The Emperor commanded us to study it. We have committed great sin in doing so - but the results spoke for themselves. If humanity were to harness this power...

  Still, I wonder. Was it truly disease? Or something older, wearing illness as disguise?

  We were told the experiments were necessary. That our sacrifices would pave the way. But now we are ordered to burn the evidence. Kill the remaining subjects - and ourselves. Leave nothing.

  I obey, but unease gnaws at me. If this was for nothing - if the thing these shadows came from ever returns.... I fear it will shake the Empire at its core.

  May the Emperor shield me and my men.

  May he forgive me.

  - High Hand K.

  A blot of red stained the Emperor’s name. A single drop of blood.

  The letter slipped from Mary’s fingers, fluttering onto the table. Her knees buckled. I caught her, guiding her into one of the empty chairs.

  Mary's face had gone beyond pale - almost gray. "The Emperor ordered this," she whispered. "I... understand that sacrifices must be made, but what did they mean by subjects? And their bodies are..." She couldn't finish.

  She looked breathless, as though she had ran a marathon. I could not blame her.

  After all, I felt the same way. Albeit, for different reasons.

  I clutched my head, the shadows growing restless at my unease. The irony didn't escape me.

  The shadows... The affliction they described - shadows gaining sentience, consuming their hosts. This can't be a coincidence right?

  My mind raced.

  I sat down on a chair, clutching my head while information flooded my brain. My mind ran at a million miles an hour as I tried processing everything.

  I sighed, forcing myself up despite myself.

  “...Fuck.”

  Mary pressed her hand to her temple, breathing shallow, pale as the skeletons around us. “…Damian… what… what do we do next?”

  I stared at the letter still lying before me. The skeletons still seated as if in judgment. The words echoing like a hammer in my skull.

  “We go check what they meant by experiments.”