WebNovels

Chapter 3 - Chapter 3: The Flaw in the Steel

The world did not explode. There was no thunderclap, no brilliant flash of power. There was only a low, groaning sound from above, like the sigh of a dying giant.

Censor Valerius paused, his hand hovering inches from Kai's face. His chillingly calm expression flickered with the barest hint of surprise as he glanced upwards.

For an instant, nothing happened. Then, with a sound like grinding teeth, the thick layer of grey paint on the support beam cracked. The hairline fracture of rust beneath it widened, darkening as decades of decay asserted themselves in a single moment. It was not a magical attack; it was a sudden, catastrophic failure of physics. Kai hadn't destroyed it; he had simply reminded the ancient, tired iron that it was, in fact, broken.

Valerius had no time to react. With a final, percussive CRACK, the beam tore free from its stone housing. A ton of oxidized iron and a shower of plaster and dust plummeted downwards.

Kai threw himself sideways, rolling off the cot and hitting the cold flagstones hard. The impact jarred the breath from his lungs. The room filled with a deafening roar and a thick, choking cloud of grey dust. Where Valerius had been standing a moment before, there was now a crater of shattered stone and a twisted ruin of metal.

Kai lay on the floor, gasping for air, his ears ringing. His mind, however, was unnaturally clear. A cold, analytical calm—a gift from the Forge God's pragmatism—had settled over his panic. *Threat neutralized. Opportunity created. Move.*

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder. Magnus, the administrator, was plastered against the far wall, his face a mask of abject terror, babbling incoherently. The doorway was blocked by a haze of dust, but it was clear.

A low groan came from the wreckage. A pale hand, completely unmarred, pushed a chunk of plaster aside. Valerius was alive. Kai had seconds.

He didn't hesitate. He burst from the infirmary, stumbling into the main hall. Scribes and Healers were staring, frozen in shock at the sound of the collapse. No one tried to stop him. He was just a panicked boy fleeing a disaster.

His mind raced, sifting through the library's layout, a blueprint he'd memorized over a lifetime. The main gates would be watched. The walls were warded. He needed another way out.

*The Cartographer's Annex. The old service tunnels.*

He broke into a run, his soft scribe's slippers slapping quietly on the stone. He could hear shouting behind him now, an authoritative voice cutting through the panicked din. Valerius.

He dodged past a trolley of books, his movements clumsy but fueled by adrenaline. The Annex was at the back of the Lyceum, a place of charts and maps, rarely used. He slammed the heavy oak door open and slipped inside, ramming a heavy iron bolt across it. It wouldn't hold for long.

The room was circular, its walls covered in celestial charts and faded maps of Vespera. In the center of the floor was a large, bronze seal depicting the Lyceum's crest: an open book with a single, watchful eye. Kai dropped to his knees, his fingers tracing the edge of the seal, searching for the seam he knew was there. He hooked his ink-stained nails into the groove and pulled.

With a grating screech, the seal lifted, revealing a dark, square hole and a set of stone steps descending into musty blackness. The old smugglers' route, back when the Library was a fortress. Now it was just a forgotten footnote in the building's history. A footnote that was about to save his life.

Just as he swung his legs into the opening, a thunderous impact rattled the door. The iron bolt groaned, bending in its housing.

"Scribe," Valerius's voice, amplified by some unseen power, was as clear as if he were standing next to him. It was no longer calm. It was laced with the cold fury of a perfect system encountering a bug. "You cannot escape your purpose. The story of Kai the Scribe is over. Let us write you a new one. One of peace. Of silence."

Another boom, and the door splintered.

Kai didn't wait to hear more. He scrambled down the steps, pulling the heavy bronze seal down over his head. It slammed shut with a deafening clang, plunging him into absolute, suffocating darkness.

He was alone, in the cold, damp earth beneath the only home he had ever known. He could still hear the faint, furious pounding from above. He fumbled in his robes, his fingers finding the small, worn pouch Elian had pressed into his hand during his escape from the courtyard. He'd forgotten all about it. He untied the leather cord and tipped the contents into his palm. A handful of bronze and silver coins. A Scribe's entire life savings. A pittance. Enough for a week's food, perhaps.

And something else.

Wrapped in a small piece of velvet was a lump of flint and a tiny, sharpened steel. Elian's emergency kit for lighting the scriptorium's lamps. A flicker of warmth bloomed in Kai's chest, a painful pang of love for the old man. Elian had known. He had been preparing Kai for this, in his own quiet way.

With trembling hands, Kai struck the steel against the flint. A spark flared, catching on a bit of lint he'd pulled from his pocket. In the tiny, dancing flame, he saw the tunnel stretching before him. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and something else… something that tasted like forgotten words and the slow, patient decay of stone.

He took a deep breath, the flame quivering in his hand. The life of Kai the Scribe was over. He was a fugitive. A heretic. A thief who had stolen the last ember of a god. He had no plan, no destination, and no allies. All he had was a pouch of coins, a borrowed spark, and a furious, ancient god whispering in the back of his mind.

His story was not over. It had just been ripped from its binding. And as he took his first step into the darkness, leaving the sound of his pursuers behind, he knew with chilling certainty that the next chapter would be written in blood and shadow.

More Chapters