It began with the bells.
The Academy's warning bells had not rung in decades, yet now they clanged through the dawn air, each strike reverberating off the towers. Students stumbled from their dormitories in confusion, still in nightclothes.
Yegr was already moving.
He'd heard the first bell before anyone else — because he'd been awake, pacing, waiting for the Shadowed Path to answer what he'd done in the catacombs.
Darin caught up with him halfway down the hall, hair wild. "What is it? Fire? Attack?"
"Both," Yegr said, quickening his pace. "They're making an example."
---
The east wing was already a haze of smoke. Flames licked at the wooden beams above, sending embers raining down onto the stone floor. Students and faculty tried to form a bucket line, but the smoke was too thick, the heat too fierce.
Yegr pushed through, scanning the crowd. No sign of Elen.
"Yegr!" a voice shouted behind him. He turned to see Master Rolen, eyes narrowed against the smoke. "You're with me — we cut it off at the archives before it spreads to the library."
Yegr hesitated. The library was important, but so was finding Elen before the cult did.
Rolen must have seen the conflict on his face. "Now, boy!"
Yegr followed — but his mind kept turning. The cult wouldn't waste their retaliation on fire alone. They'd use the chaos to move unseen.
---
They reached the archives — a long, windowless hall lined with ancient scroll cases. The heat was stronger here, the air shimmering.
Then Yegr saw it.
Not fire. Not yet.
Three cloaked figures, moving between the shelves, stuffing scrolls into oil-soaked sacks. Destroying knowledge — or stealing it.
"Rolen!" Yegr pointed. But before the master could charge, one of the figures threw a clay sphere to the floor. It shattered with a sharp crack, releasing a cloud of stinging smoke.
Yegr yanked his tunic over his mouth and charged through. His training blade struck the first figure's wrist, sending a scroll tumbling. He grabbed it instinctively, shoving it into his own belt.
The second figure slashed at him with a curved dagger. Yegr caught the man's arm, twisting hard until the weapon clattered away — but the third was already bolting for the far exit.
Yegr chased, bursting out into the open courtyard — and nearly colliding with Elen.
She was bleeding from a shallow cut along her arm, eyes wild. "They tried to take me," she said, breathless.
"They're still trying," Yegr replied. "Come on."
---
By the time the bells fell silent, the east wing was blackened but still standing. The cultists were gone, vanishing into the confusion.
Rolen ordered the students back to the dormitories, his voice hoarse from smoke. Yegr stood apart, turning the stolen scroll over in his hands.
It was older than any he'd seen in the library — the parchment brittle, the ink faded to a rusty brown. The symbols were jagged, almost painful to look at.
Elen eyed it warily. "That's not just history, is it?"
Yegr shook his head. "No. It's a map."
Darin joined them, soot streaking his face. "A map to what?"
Yegr looked up toward the dark sky over the Academy.
"To where the Third Key will be bound."