The ancient archives were no longer quiet.
The rhythmic thump... thump... thump... was growing louder, shaking the concrete dust from the high, dark ceiling of the basement. It wasn't the sound of heavy boots; it was a dull, pulverizing impact, like a wrecking ball tapping the roof of a deep, enclosed space.
Elias clutched the Glass Shard of the Aether-Key in his hand. It radiated a cool, steady blue light, a reassuring contrast to the oppressive purple that had just vanished. He had survived the Sentinel, but victory tasted like ash.
The Sentinel was a guard. Something else is coming.
The rhythmic thumping stopped directly above the central reading room. Then came a sound that froze Elias's blood: a deep, wet ripping noise, followed by the groan of stressed metal and the crash of marble.
Whatever was outside the barrier had just found a new way in.
Elias sprinted out of the circular reading room, following the silver compass's desperate, erratic pull toward the exit. He scrambled past the towering shelves, the sense of dread now replaced by raw, frantic terror. He had to get back to the maintenance tunnels, back to the surface.
He stopped dead at the foot of the stairs.
A section of the basement ceiling—three feet of thick, rebar-reinforced concrete—had been torn away. It hadn't collapsed; it had been peeled back like the lid of a tin can. Through the jagged hole, he saw the faint emergency lights of the floor above, and then, a horrifying silhouette.
It was impossibly large, blocking the light. It wasn't a static-charged Echo like the one on the subway. This was physical, heavy, and organic.
Elias got his first, terrible look as the creature dropped down into the archive, smashing an entire row of metal shelving into twisted scrap.
It was a Grave-Worm.
It was perhaps fifteen feet long, covered in thick, asphalt-grey chitin that was slick with ancient oils. It had no eyes, but its mouth was a ring of clicking, razor-sharp hooks, and its movement was a sickening, continuous ripple of muscle and segment. It was a creature designed to chew through the bedrock beneath cities, roused by the sudden, intense burst of Aetheric energy that had flared when Elias touched the Key fragment.
The Grave-Worm lifted its head, its hooked mouth twitching, and released a soundless, high-frequency ping that made Elias's teeth ache. It was scanning the chamber.
It found him.
With a speed that defied its mass, the Worm slammed its body forward, flattening the remaining shelves between them.
Elias didn't hesitate. He launched himself sideways, diving behind a metal filing cabinet just as the Worm's massive body swept past, generating a powerful wind that smelled of limestone and decay. The filing cabinet rattled violently, but held.
Think, Elias, think!
He had a piece of the Aether-Key, a compass, and his sneakers. The Worm was too big to fight, and too fast to outrun in a straight line. He had to use the archives themselves.
He glanced at the glowing compass. Its needle pointed, not to the stairs, but deeper into the forgotten part of the archive, toward a series of sub-basement vaults he hadn't noticed before.
Is Seraphina's compass leading me to the exit, or a death trap?
He didn't have time to doubt. The Worm was backtracking, its immense mass shifting the rubble. Elias scrambled to his feet and ran.
He found the entrance: a heavy, circular steel door, like a bank vault, built into the bedrock. It was locked with a modern digital keypad, completely impervious to his compass key.
The Worm slammed into the wall ten feet behind him. Plaster dust exploded into the air, and a hairline fracture instantly zipped across the vault door.
Elias, panicked, frantically punched the buttons on the keypad—any numbers, just to look like he was trying. 1−2−3−4−5−6−7−8−9. Nothing.
THUMP. The wall fractured further.
He remembered Seraphina's words about the Guild: ancient, clandestine magical infrastructure. The modern keypad was a deception. The real lock was always the old magic.
He stared at the circular door, ignoring the impending smash. The door was held in place by massive, circular bolts. He noticed a faint, recurring pattern of scratch marks on the metal surrounding the central dial.
The Arcane Lock.
His hands shaking, Elias placed the Glass Shard he held—the Key fragment—against the center of the vault dial.
The shard didn't fit, but the energy was right. The moment the fragment touched the metal, the dark crystal casing of the shard sank into the steel, not breaking the metal, but momentarily fusing with its essence.
The steel door began to hum, and the nine massive bolts clicked back, one by one.
K-CLICK. K-CLICK. K-CLICK.
The Worm's body coiled, sensing the imminent escape. It roared, a vibrating, low-frequency sound that cracked the lightbulbs above. It was launching its final assault.
Elias ripped the shard away just as the last bolt retracted. He slammed his shoulder against the heavy door, throwing it open into a cavernous, dark tunnel beyond.
He dove through the opening, rolling onto the cold stone floor.
The Grave-Worm didn't stop. It slammed its entire, massive head against the vault door just as Elias slipped inside. The momentum was so great that the door buckled inward, screeching along its track, but the heavy steel held. The Worm was too large to follow, its crushing mouth now pinned against the jammed edges of the vault door.
Elias lay there, gasping for breath, the light of the Key fragment illuminating a small section of the tunnel.
He had escaped. He looked back at the vault door, listening to the furious, scratching sounds of the trapped Worm. It was contained, for now.
He finally looked at the tunnel around him. It wasn't the dusty maintenance path of the Guild. This tunnel was lined with smooth, dark basalt, etched with symbols unlike any he'd seen before—alien, beautiful, and utterly terrifying.
The silver compass in his hand was no longer pointing to the exit. It was pointing forward, deeper into the dark, toward some unknown destination within Veridia's massive, secret infrastructure.
Elias realized he hadn't escaped back to safety. He had escaped deeper into the conspiracy.
He stood up, the Key fragment burning a hole through his fear. He was alive, and he had the first piece.
He was still Elias Vance, the barista, but he was also the Anchor. And his quest had just taken him off the map.