The bells' echoes chased them as they crept out of the Hall of Silent Rites, each deep, resonant chime vibrating in Jayden's ribs. He could feel the Moon Archives changing around them, like the building itself had been jolted awake. Shadows stretched in strange directions. Doorways that had been open minutes ago now sealed over with smooth sheets of silver light. Steps they'd taken earlier now led somewhere entirely new, as if the temple was shuffling its own bones.
"The temple's rearranging itself," Aerin muttered, eyes flicking between walls that seemed to breathe. "It does that when something important's been disturbed. You, apparently."
"Great," Jayden said. "I've been here an hour and the building already hates me."
A faint breath brushed past his ear—cool and deliberate. Not wind. Not air. Something else.
"You heard that, right?" he whispered.
Aerin didn't even look at him. "Yep. Wards."
"Wards?"
"Magic alarms," she said briskly. "And when they trigger, they don't call guards. They are the guards."
A thin sound began to thread through the air. It was almost beautiful—notes like chimes heard underwater—but it made Jayden's stomach knot.
They turned a corner.
The music stopped.
And there it was.
The guardian stood in the center of the corridor, at least seven feet tall, a knight-shaped silhouette made entirely of light and shadow in impossible balance. Its helm was smooth and featureless, but Jayden felt it looking at him. A halberd rested in its hands, the blade like a frozen crescent moon.
"Uh," Jayden said softly. "Do we—"
"Run," Aerin interrupted, already yanking him backward.
The guardian moved—fast, impossibly fast. The halberd cut through the air where their heads had been, striking the marble floor with a crack like ice breaking on a lake. From the point of impact, runes spilled outward, glowing silver, racing along the floor toward Jayden's feet.
He leapt back just in time.
"Why is it always me?" he gasped.
"Because you're special!" Aerin said through clenched teeth, shoving him forward. "Now MOVE."
They bolted, weaving between columns and ducking under archways as the guardian's heavy steps followed, never hurried but never slowing. The halls seemed to be working with it, funneling them down narrowing paths. Jayden's chest burned—not from running, but from that strange silver flame inside him, like it wanted to turn around and reach for the thing chasing them.
They burst into a long gallery lined with glass display cases. Inside floated impossible treasures: swords made from captured lightning, an hourglass where the sand flowed upward, a necklace that pulsed like a heartbeat.
One case at the far end stood empty.
And beyond it was a door.
Not silver. Not light.
Black glass, framed in pale moonstone, a single symbol burning in its center: a perfect circle with a line cutting through.
Jayden slowed, breathless. "That's it. That's the Mirror Vault."
"That," Aerin said, catching up, "was way too easy to find."
"Yeah," Jayden agreed, throat dry. "I'm terrified."
The black-glass surface rippled as he stepped closer, the symbol flaring—and the flame in his chest flared back, like two pieces of a puzzle recognizing each other.
"It's keyed to you," Aerin murmured.
Jayden thought of Thalen's warning: That's where the truth is buried.
His fingers brushed the cold surface. It warmed instantly, light sliding along his skin like water. Then the door melted away into spiraling silver threads that vanished into the air.
Inside, there was no light except for faint drifting glimmers, like starlight trapped in smoke. The air was thick and still, heavy with the scent of old magic and something sharper—like ozone after lightning.
A circular dais stood in the center. On it rested a single mirror.
It was tall, framed in moonstone, and its surface moved like oil. It swallowed light. When Jayden's reflection finally appeared, it wasn't right.
The boy in the mirror was older. His jaw was harder, his eyes shadowed, a crown of silver fire on his head. The silver flame in his hands was no longer pure—it was streaked with black, twisting like smoke.
His mouth moved.
"You can't save both," it whispered in Jayden's own voice.
Jayden stepped back so fast he almost tripped. "What—"
The mirror rippled, and now it showed Thalen. Not the composed prince Jayden knew, but a ruin of him—eyes black, cloak torn, silver blood on his hands, and behind him… a burning city.
The whispers came again, overlapping this time, a chant: One will burn. One will betray.
Aerin grabbed his arm. "Jayden. We need to leave."
Before he could move, the surface stilled one last time—and a third figure appeared.
A woman. Her hair was white as snow, her eyes silver and sharp, like they had been cut from the moon itself. She looked straight at him.
"Find me before he does," she said, her voice so clear it made the air shiver. "Or all is lost."
The mirror shattered silently outward, light and shadow exploding in every direction.
Jayden hit the gallery floor hard, coughing. The vault door was gone, replaced by a smooth wall.
Aerin sat up, rubbing her head. "I'm starting to really hate magical prophecy nonsense."
Jayden stared at the wall, heart still thundering. He could still feel the woman's voice in his bones.
"We're running out of time," he said.
Somewhere deep in the Archives, the bells began to toll again.
Only this time, the sound was wrong. Louder. Closer.
And with each strike, the walls seemed to pulse—like something enormous had just been let loose inside.
The first bell strike rattled the glass cases. The second made the marble under their feet hum. By the third, Jayden realized the sound wasn't just echoing through the building—it was inside it, like the stone itself was speaking.
Aerin's gaze darted to the shadows at the edges of the gallery. "That's not just bells."
The fourth strike came, and the floor tiles shifted. Not lifted, not cracked—moved. They slid over each other like puzzle pieces, forming new corridors that hadn't been there seconds ago.
"Uh," Jayden said, as a column to his right groaned and slid into the floor. "The Archives are… reorganizing?"
"Not reorganizing," Aerin said grimly. "Locking down."
From far down one of the new hallways, a low, thrumming growl rolled toward them. It was deep enough to make Jayden's teeth buzz.
"Guardian?" he guessed.
"Worse," Aerin said. "Sentinel forms. Made from the Archive itself. You can't outrun them."
The fifth bell strike sounded—and the gallery lights snuffed out all at once.
Jayden's silver flame flared instinctively, throwing a faint glow around them. In its light, he saw the marble nearest the far wall… stand up. No—rise. A hulking shape unfolded from the architecture itself, a torso forming from columns, arms unfurling from stone beams. Its head was a blank mask of polished obsidian, the only features two deep gouges where eyes should have been.
Then it took a step, and the floor shook.
Aerin grabbed his wrist. "We don't fight it. We find a breach."
They tore down a narrow corridor as the Sentinel gave chase, each footfall slamming like a drumbeat. The walls around them began to twist, narrowing so quickly Jayden's shoulder scraped the stone. Behind, the thing didn't slow—it simply pressed forward, the marble bending to let it pass.
They burst into what had to be a reading hall—long tables, scattered scrolls, and an enormous skylight overhead, glowing faintly with moonlight.
"There!" Aerin pointed upward. "If we can reach that—"
The floor between them and the far wall rippled, then buckled upward into a vertical barrier. Runes lit across its surface, and a second Sentinel began to step through.
"Oh, come on!" Jayden yelled.
His silver flame surged, hotter now, climbing up his arm. It wanted out.
"Jayden—no magic!" Aerin snapped, dodging between toppling bookshelves. "You light this place up, every ward in the city will have your location!"
The first Sentinel's hand crashed down where he'd been standing, splintering a table into dust.
"I don't think we have a choice!" he shouted back.
Aerin vaulted a desk, landing beside a spiral staircase that curled up toward the skylight. "Then burn carefully!"
They scrambled upward, the steps vibrating under each massive footstep below. A Sentinel's arm shot upward, fingers like marble blades reaching for Jayden's ankle. He jumped, just missing the grip, and hauled himself the last few steps onto the skylight platform.
The glass wasn't really glass—it was translucent moonstone, cool under his palms, carved with a web of runes. A lock sigil glimmered at its center.
Aerin was already digging in her satchel, pulling out a sliver of silver metal. "Buy me ten seconds!"
"How?!"
"Improvise!"
Jayden turned back—and froze. The first Sentinel was climbing the staircase now, its massive shape bending the iron railing. The second one was scaling the outside wall, its head rising level with the platform.
The silver flame roared in his chest, and this time Jayden didn't fight it.
He thrust his hands forward.
A burst of light exploded from his palms—not just silver now, but laced with black streaks that twisted and writhed. The shockwave slammed into the nearest Sentinel, knocking it back into the reading hall below. The second reeled, its marble body cracking where the light struck.
But the force wasn't neat—it ricocheted, bouncing off the walls and ceiling, rattling the entire Archive like a struck gong.
Every rune in sight flared.
"Oh, you really just woke up the whole building," Aerin said, stabbing the lock sigil with her silver pick.
The moonstone skylight shuddered—then split open with a grinding sound. Cold night air rushed in, tasting of rain and starlight.
"Go!" she yelled.
Jayden didn't think—he grabbed Aerin's hand and leapt.
They fell through darkness, the wind roaring past their ears, until the Archive's outer terrace rushed up to meet them. Jayden hit hard, rolling over rough stone, the breath knocked from his lungs.
He sat up, gasping—just in time to see the skylight above seal shut again, the Sentinels' silhouettes fading into shadow.
For a moment, all he could hear was the wind in the trees beyond the palace grounds. Then, far below, a new sound rose—low, rhythmic, and growing louder.
Aerin met his gaze. "That's not bells."
"No," Jayden said slowly, a cold weight settling in his chest. "That's drums."
The kind you play when an army's coming.