The stained-glass window shattered inward, raining down fragments of crimson, sapphire, and amber. Each shard spun through the air, catching the moonlight like dying fireflies. Mira raised her arms to shield her face, but the splinters fell around her harmlessly—because Varin stood between her and the explosion, absorbing the impact with his back.
For a moment, time slowed.
The broken pieces drifted through the dusty air, reflecting the rows of books in slanted, fractured reflections—like memories splitting apart.
Then—
WHRRRRRRM.
The large drone pushed its way through the opening. Its metallic frame was smooth and unnervingly organic—like an insect forged from mercury. Unlike the earlier scout drone, this one had pincers, rotating lenses, and a glowing cylinder embedded in its core.
"DIGITAL RECLAMATION UNIT—TYPE VERITAS," it announced in a cold, processed voice.
"PRIMARY OBJECTIVES:
—SCAN.
—CONVERT.
—DELETE ORIGINALS.
—ELIMINATE PROTECTIVE HOSTILES."
The moment the last word left its speakers, the cylinder inside it expanded, humming with building energy.
Varin didn't wait.
He dashed forward faster than Mira's eyes could follow—silhouetted against swirling dust, his movements fluid and lethal.
"Stay behind the pillar!" he shouted over his shoulder.
Mira scrambled toward the left wall, ducking behind a marble column as cracks zigzagged across the floor from the drone's landing impact.
Varin reached the drone in a blur and struck its core with an open palm.
Symbols erupted from his hand—spirals of quill-shaped energy that wrapped onto the drone's outer shell, attempting to paralyze it the same way he'd disabled the scout unit.
But the Veritas drone didn't fall.
It didn't even stutter.
Instead, the quill-runes flickered, distorted, and then shattered into glitch fragments.
The drone's glowing eye rotated toward him.
"ANALYSIS COMPLETE," it droned.
"HOSTILE: KNOWLEDGE-ABSORBING ENTITY.
THREAT LEVEL: HIGH."
Varin exhaled sharply.
"So… they've studied my kind."
The drone fired its first beam.
A column of sharp blue energy burst from the drone's core—a scorching stream lined with flickering pixel static. Varin darted aside, but the edge of the beam grazed his coat. The fabric disintegrated instantly, turning into digital fragments that evaporated into nothing.
Varin's eyes widened.
"That was not ordinary tech," he muttered. "That is designed to erase."
Mira peeked from behind the pillar.
"What do you mean erase?"
"Not destroy," Varin said without looking back. "Erase. Traces gone. As if something never existed."
Mira's stomach dropped.
The drone fired again.
Varin jumped high, twisting mid-air. His silhouette spun through the beams like a dancer among death rays.
The library shook.
Shelves splintered.
Books burst into digital smoke.
Mira covered her ears as the frequency of the beam rattled her skull.
"Varin!" she screamed.
He landed behind the drone and tried again—pressing both palms against its back.
This time, the runes surged stronger, igniting in bright gold.
For a moment, the drone's movements slowed.
But then—
CRACK.
FLASH.
The drone released a pulse wave—an expanding disc of digital force that threw Varin across the aisle.
He crashed into a shelf.
Books fell around him in a rainstorm of paper.
"Varin!" Mira cried, running toward him.
But the drone noticed her change of position.
"SECOND TARGET DETECTED," it announced.
"ENGAGING DELETION PROTOCOL."
Its eye turned red, targeting Mira's path.
Varin's voice erupted like thunder:
"MIRA, DOWN!"
She dropped just as the beam sliced through the air above her, cutting straight through a column and turning half of it into glitch dust.
Mira crawled behind an overturned bookshelf, heart thundering.
"Why are you targeting me?" she shouted.
"You're human!" Varin yelled back.
The drone answered:
"HUMAN PRESENCE = MEMORY PRESERVATION.
UNACCEPTABLE VARIABLE."
Mira nearly choked.
"So they're… erasing humans now?!"
Varin's expression grew darker.
"Not all. Only those who still read."
The drone advanced, its pincers unfolding like mechanical jaws.
Mira tried to pull back—but her foot caught in a loop of fallen rope that once held two decaying shelves together.
She fell.
The drone's red beam locked on her chest.
Varin moved like lightning.
He slammed his hand onto the marble floor, channeling ancient runes through the tiles.
The ground beneath the drone burst upward—exploding into jagged columns of ink-black energy shaped like quills piercing from the earth.
The drone lurched, hit by three quill-pillars.
Its metallic frame vibrated violently.
Varin grabbed Mira's wrist and pulled her behind a stone bench as debris fell around them.
For the first time since she met him, Mira sensed something radiating from Varin. Something deeper than rage. Something old, immense, and vast.
It wasn't violence.
It was grief.
"This library…" his voice trembled, "this is the last one. The last sanctuary of physical wisdom I have left."
Mira swallowed, staring at him in the dim glow of runes coursing beneath the floor.
"You're fighting for it," she whispered.
Varin didn't answer.
He leapt back into the air, intercepting the drone as it freed itself from the quill pillars.
As he fought, Mira watched him—his movements an elegant blend of martial precision and mystical knowledge, centuries woven into each strike.
Her mind filled with questions:
Who created him?
Where did his powers come from?
Why was a vampire tied to books?
How old was he?
But the fight left no room for answers.
Varin darted behind the drone again, gripping its right pincer and wrenching it downward with inhuman strength.
Metal groaned, bending.
But the drone's second arm whipped around, striking Varin across the ribs.
He hissed, stumbling back. His pale skin cracked where the blow landed—glowing crimson ink trickled from the wound like bleeding calligraphy.
Mira gasped.
"You're hurt!"
Varin didn't respond.
He stepped forward again, ignoring the fracture spreading across his side.
The drone extended its third arm—a hidden needle of pulsing light.
Varin realized too late—
The needle stabbed into his shoulder.
He convulsed.
A digital surge ripped through him, causing his runes to flicker erratically.
He dropped to one knee.
"VARIN!" Mira screamed.
The drone rotated toward him, preparing the final deletion blast.
Varin tried to rise. His limbs trembled, refusing to obey.
"Stay down," he whispered to himself. "Stay—awake…"
But Mira didn't stay down.
She ran toward him.
Without thinking.
Without planning.
Just moving.
Just acting.
Varin saw her silhouette—and panic seized him.
"MIRA—NO!"
Mira skidded to a stop between Varin and the drone.
Her hands shook.
Her breath trembled.
But she didn't move away.
She didn't dodge.
She just stood there—blocking the drone's line of fire with nothing but her small, trembling body.
The drone paused.
"ANALYZING HUMAN BEHAVIOR."
Varin stared at her, horrified.
"Mira—move!"
"No!" she snapped. "You're protecting a library alone! And you're not even human! You're bleeding ink and still fighting! I'm not leaving you to die!"
"Mira," he said, voice breaking, "I… can't lose another reader."
She froze.
"What?"
The drone resumed charging its beam.
Varin forced himself to stand—pain tearing through him.
He pushed Mira aside and took the blast head-on.
"VARIN!" she shrieked.
The beam hit him—
A blinding flash consumed the aisle.
Varin stumbled back, smoke rising from his torso.
A hole burned through his coat, his skin beneath flickering with glitching ink that struggled to hold shape.
He fell to one knee again, breathing unevenly—every inhale sounding like scraping paper.
Mira rushed to him as he crumpled.
"Varin—Varin, stay awake! Please!"
He coughed ink onto the floor.
"I told you… run…"
"I won't!"
He looked at her—eyes dimming, symbols fading.
"Stubborn child…"
The drone aimed again.
Preparing the final shot.
Mira's heart pounded.
Her eyes darted around desperately.
Then she saw it.
A fallen bookshelf, cracked open on the floor.
And inside it, one book untouched by decay—its cover shimmering faintly with gold.
A spellbook.
Ancient.
Forgotten.
Leaking the same runic aura Varin used.
Mira grabbed it and flipped it open.
Her eyes widened.
"I don't know how to use this—"
Varin forced a whisper:
"Read."
"What?!"
"Read… loudly."
"But I don't understand the language!"
"It doesn't matter," he gasped. "Words obey intention. Speak. Let the book speak through you."
She hesitated—
Then began reading.
The pages glowed.
The symbols rose from the spellbook—spiraling upward like golden fireflies. They circled Mira, then spiraled toward Varin, mending his fractures, sealing the glitching cracks.
Her voice grew stronger with each line.
She didn't understand the language—
But somehow the library did.
And it flowed through her.
The drone's beam fired—
And hit a wall of runes.
The golden barrier exploded outward, launching the drone backward into a marble column.
Cracks split across its frame.
Its eye flickered.
"ERROR—CORRUPTION—ERROR—"
Mira kept reading.
The runes intensified until the entire library glowed.
The drone screamed—its voice distorting into static.
Then—
BOOOOM.
It exploded.
Metal shards scattered across the aisles.
Silence followed, shaken only by the settling dust.
Mira collapsed to her knees, exhausted.
The spellbook dropped beside her.
Varin rose slowly—his wounds almost healed.
He stared at her in awe.
"You just cast a preservation spell," he said softly.
"I… I don't even know how I did that," she whispered.
"You didn't," he said. "The library did."
He extended a hand, helping her stand.
"For centuries," Varin continued quietly, "I've been its keeper. But now… it has chosen a second protector."
Mira swallowed.
"Protector… me?"
Varin nodded.
"You are no longer just a visitor. You are part of this place now."
She stared at her trembling hands.
"I don't know if I can do that."
"You already did," he said. "You saved me. And the library."
He stepped back.
His voice softened, almost reverent.
"You may be human, Mira… but tonight, you stood like a guardian."
She blushed, trying to hide her face behind her hair.
Then—
A trembling rumble shook the entire building.
Varin's expression shifted instantly.
"That is not structural collapse," he whispered. "That is an incoming signal."
"Another drone?" Mira asked, exhausted.
"No."
He closed his eyes, sensing.
"A fleet."
Mira's heart dropped.
"How many?"
Varin opened his eyes.
Their glow returned—sharper, harder.
"Dozens."
"Dozens…?"
She nearly fell over.
"They will not make the same mistake," Varin said quietly. "Their next assault will be coordinated, upgraded, and ruthless."
Mira clutched the spellbook tightly.
"What do we do?"
Varin looked around the library—the broken shelves, the ruined window, the glitching dust still lingering in the air.
Then he whispered:
"We prepare."
"For what?"
"For war."
Mira's throat tightened.
She looked at Varin.
He looked back.
For the first time since she'd met him, he spoke not as an ancient being, not as a guardian, not as a creature of shadows.
He spoke as someone who understood loss.
"We must save the library," he said.
"Before it is erased."
Mira nodded slowly.
"Then I'm with you."
Varin exhaled.
A mixture of relief and dread.
Then he said something Mira did not expect:
"Chapter One was the first attack."
"Chapter Two," he whispered, "was the awakening."
"But Chapter Three…"
His eyes hardened.
"…will be the storm."