[Third POV; General]
Caedryn did not raise his voice.
He never needed to.
The chamber was lit only by a narrow strip of mage-lanterns set high along the walls, their light muted and directional, casting long shadows that bent across stone and silk alike. He stood near the window, hands clasped behind his back, watching the capital breathe below him. Torches moved along the streets like veins of fire. Everything orderly. Everything obedient.
Too orderly.
"Edrin Ward doesn't make unnecessary moves as far as I know him," Caedryn said at last. His tone was quiet, conversational, the kind used when discussing the weather. "So tell me why he suddenly needed an external archivist."
The man kneeling a few steps behind him did not look up. He wore no insignia, no colors, nothing that marked him as belonging to any office. That was intentional.
"He claimed it was efficiency," the servant replied. "Said the artifacts were… uncooperative."
Caedryn smiled faintly. Not amused.
"Uncooperative artifacts don't get revisits approved," he said in careful tone. "Especially not to sealed sites exclusive for us."
He turned from the window and looked down at the servant. His eyes were sharp, calculating, but not angry. Anger wasted energy. Curiosity did not.
"Do you have an idea who is the archivist?"
The servant hesitated for half a second too long.
"That pause tells me you already know," Caedryn said mildly. "Or you found something you don't like."
"A Crosser from a pure human world," the servant said. "Recently arrived. He was young and no known backing from any guild or house, he's operating out of Hearthroot."
Caedryn's fingers tapped once against his wrist.
"Hearthroot," he repeated with a hmmm. "Of course, that's the town they all first land."
He walked back to the desk and picked up a thin slate, flipping through notes without really reading them.
"And his name?"
"Theo Finley."
Caedryn stopped.
Not visibly nor in a dramatic fashion. Just enough that the servant noticed.
"That's… unremarkable," Caedryn said after a moment. "Too suspiciously unremarkable."
"Yes," the servant agreed carefully. "Which is why it stood out."
Caedryn chuckled softly, a sound without warmth.
"An archivist with no patron, trusted by Edrin Ward, allowed near a sealed site, and returning with a divine relic that no one can properly classify," he said. "Either Ward has lost his judgment, or someone made sure this young man was exactly where he needed to be."
The servant shifted slightly. "As far as I currently know that none of the royals haven't been informed about the revisit request details. Only that the expedition yielded a divine relic."
"Good," Caedryn said. "Let's keep it that way."
He set the slate down and leaned back against the desk.
"I want everything," he continued. "Not the official reports, but the the gaps, the delays and the inbetweens. Who suggested Hearthroot as the processing point. Who approved the revisit. Who escorted the archivist. And who else was present when the artifacts were first recovered."
"That includes the soldiers?" the servant asked.
"Especially the soldiers," Caedryn replied. "People forget what they see under pressure. They remember the wrong details. That makes them useful."
The servant nodded slowly. "And how about the archivist himself?"
Caedryn's gaze hardened just a fraction.
"No direct contact," he said. "Not yet. I want patterns, not reactions. Watch where he goes, who he speaks to. What he asks for. Do it quietly."
He paused, then added, "And find out why Edrin chose him."
"Yes, as you said."
Caedryn turned back toward the window, dismissing him with a small wave of his hand.
"One more thing," he said, not looking back. "Make sure none of this reaches the royal court. Not even as a rumor."
The servant rose smoothly. "And if they ask?"
Caedryn smiled again, thin and precise.
"Then it's already too late," he said. "So make sure they don't."
When the chamber was empty once more, Caedryn stood alone with the view of the capital, his reflection faint in the glass.
An unremarkable archivist.
A sealed site revisited.
And a relic that felt… wrong.
Caedryn closed his eyes briefly.
Something was changed.
And whatever it was, he intended to find it, this might be something that can yield what he had long wished.
~~~
[Theo POV; 1st]
They were close now.
I did not need to ask Astrae to know it.
The road had changed hours ago, not abruptly, but with the kind of gradual certainty that made denial impossible. Packed dirt gave way to layered stone, fitted so cleanly that even the seams were difficult to spot. The path widened until two wagons could pass without slowing, and the roadside markers stopped being rough posts or weather-worn carvings. In their place stood tall obelisks of pale stone, polished smooth and etched with the sigils of Solcarth Dominion.
Even the air felt different.
Heavier. Not thick or suffocating, but weighted, as if sound and motion carried farther than they should. I could hear things I could not see yet. Metal against stone. Distant voices. The faint, constant hum of something working far beyond human scale.
The capital was not hidden.
It did not need to be.
I slowed without meaning to when the land ahead opened fully, revealing the outer approach. The walls dominated the horizon, rising in pale tiers reinforced by darker bands that pulsed faintly with controlled energy. They were not ornate. There was no effort to impress through beauty. Every line, every tower, every carefully measured gap spoke of purpose.
Defense first. Everything else second.
I exhaled, only then realizing I had been holding my breath.
Astrae walked beside me, her pace unchanged. Her hair remained pulled high, just as it had been since we left Hearthroot, practical and neat, not a single strand out of place. She did not slow. She did not stare. She did not look impressed, and she did not look wary either.
That unsettled me more than fear would have.
The closer we came, the more crowded the road became. Merchants traveled in guarded caravans, permits displayed openly. Pilgrims walked in small, quiet groups, expressions tight with purpose. Wayfarers passed us now and then, their bearing alone marking them as experienced. When the light struck the side of their necks at the right angle, I caught faint glimpses of Standing marks.
And soldiers. Everywhere.
Not clustered at obvious checkpoints. Not standing stiffly at attention. They were placed with precision. Guard towers overlapped their lines of sight. Patrols moved on schedules that resisted easy prediction. Even civilians near the outer gate behaved differently, voices lower, movements restrained, like people who understood that mistakes here carried weight.
This was not a city that expected peace.
This was a city that planned for failure.
A familiar tightening settled in my chest. Not panic. Not dread. Anticipation mixed with calculation. If something went wrong here, it would not spiral into chaos the way it might in a smaller town.
It would be crushed. Clean and efficient.
I glanced at Astrae without turning my head.
She was watching the walls now, eyes half-lidded, her expression unreadable. For a brief moment, I wondered what she saw when she looked at a place like this. Not just stone and guards, but echoes. Decisions layered over centuries. Power accumulated, redirected, buried.
Residual awareness.
She felt my gaze and looked at me, brief and questioning.
I shook my head slightly.
Nothing. Just observing.
We continued forward with the rest of the line.
The final approach was dominated by the gate itself. Twin towers flanked it, their upper platforms crowded with watchful figures. Sigils embedded in the stone flared softly as each group passed through, scanning, verifying, recording. I could feel the pressure of it slide over my skin, not painful, but invasive in a way that made every instinct bristle.
I did not like being measured by things I could not see.
Astrae stepped forward without hesitation.
Nothing reacted.
No flicker. No resistance. No sign that anything had noticed her at all.
I followed.
For a fraction of a second, the thought crossed my mind that this was where everything would unravel. That something unseen would catch on my presence, on the wrongness that always seemed to follow me, and pull the thread loose.
It did not.
The gate accepted us.
Inside, the capital unfolded in layers that stole my breath despite myself. Districts rose and fell across the terrain, bridges spanning open air between towers, banners hanging high above streets already alive with motion. The scale was overwhelming, not because it was chaotic, but because it was controlled.
Everything here had a place.
I let out a slow breath, grounding myself.
We had arrived.
Astrae did not comment. She never did when something truly mattered.
As we moved deeper into Solcarth, surrounded by power, politics, and eyes trained to miss very little, one truth settled firmly in my mind.
Whatever answers waited for us here, they would not come easily.
And if they did come, they would demand a price neither of us had paid yet.
~~~
[Third POV; General]
The knock came late.
Not loud. Not urgent. Just deliberate.
Caedryn didn't turn from the window. The capital below him was settling into its nighttime rhythm, streets thinning, lights dimming in layers as districts quieted one by one. This was the hour when people stopped performing and started being honest.
"Come in," he said.
The door opened and closed without a sound. The servant stepped inside, cloak still on, posture tight. Someone who knew better than to look relaxed in this room.
"I have an update," the servant said.
Caedryn's gaze stayed on the city. "Then? What is it?"
"The archivist entered the capital this morning," the servant began. "Theo Finley and he wasn't alone."
Caedryn's fingers paused against the stone ledge.
"A young girl's with him," the servant continued. "Around fifteen, maybe younger by build. Same one reported earlier at the excavation site."
Caedryn turned slowly.
"The same girl Captain Edrin mentioned? The lost merchant daugther?" he said.
"Yes. Same as described."
"And where are they staying?" Caedryn asked.
"They aren't," the servant replied. "Not yet atleast. They passed the gate, moved through the outer districts, but haven't settled anywhere. No residence registered. No inn records. They're still moving and looking around it seems."
Caedryn gave a quiet, humorless breath. "Careful even now huh."
The servant nodded. "We questioned Ward, Lyra, and Tomas again in separate instances. Different pressures and angles to make sure they are not hiding anything."
"And? What did you find out?" Caedryn asked.
"Nothing," the servant said in a rather disappointed tone. "Their statements align perfectly. To them, the girl is harmless. They checked it according to them. There's nothing suspicious."
Caedryn leaned back against the desk, folding his arms.
"That," he said, "is exactly what makes her odd."
The servant hesitated. "You believe their memories were altered?"
Caedryn shook his head. "No. If they were, I'd feel residue. This is cleaner than that. Whatever happened didn't leave fingerprints and only those from higher frequency can do that, and for them to get involved then there's definitely something that's been hidden. This is only my personal view though, nothing yet is proven close to truth."
Caedryn straightened, adding a question. "What about the approval to revisit the site?"
The servant drew a breath. "It wasn't Ward's decision alone. The authorization came from His Highness Prince Veylan Solcarth."
Caedryn's eyes sharpened.
"The third heir huh," he said softly.
"Yes. Prince Veylan signed off on the request personally. His reasoning was that transporting partially analyzed relics into the capital posed an unacceptable risk. He argued the site needed to be rechecked fully for the capital's safety."
Caedryn went quiet.
Not the loud heirs.
Not the obvious ones.
But the careful one.
"And no one challenged it?" Caedryn said.
"No," the servant replied. "The logic was solid. Responsible, even. Hard to oppose without looking reckless."
Caedryn turned back toward the window, watching the capital lights flicker like distant embers.
An unknown archivist.
A sealed site reopened.
A girl appearing at the exact moment it mattered.
And Prince Veylan Solcarth giving approval under the banner of caution.
Too doubtly clean.
"I've been hunting sealed gods for a long time, never had a chance to capture one," Caedryn said quietly. "Long enough to know coincidence never walks alone. It travels with intent."
The servant waited.
"There's something wrong with the girl," Caedryn continued. "Not loud. Not violent. Just wrong in how perfectly she fits every gap of this story."
He pushed off the desk.
"Dig deeper," he ordered. "Not just records. Street talk. Merchant gossip. Old patrol logs. Anyone who's seen a girl like her where she shouldn't be, use every resources about her alibi of a merchant parents and getting separated."
"And the archivist?" the servant asked.
Caedryn's mouth curved slightly. Not a smile.
"Leave him," he said. "People like that are doors. You don't force them open. You watch what comes through, he's valuable, he's the bait. My personal lure."
"And Prince Veylan?"
Caedryn glanced back over his shoulder.
"Watch him closely," he said. "Anyone careful enough to reopen a sealed site for 'safety' is either very smart… or very afraid. But don't get too near, you might get burn."
The servant nodded and turned to leave.
"One more thing," Caedryn added.
"Yes m'lord?"
"If this girl truly is nothing," Caedryn said, voice low, "then she'll disappear into the capital like everyone else."
"And if she isn't?"
Caedryn looked back out over Solcarth, eyes cold.
"Then she's the thread tying all of this together," he said. "And threads are meant to be pulled... or break."
The door closed softly behind the servant.
Caedryn remained where he was, watching the city breathe.
Something had slipped past the walls of Solcarth.
And this time, it had done so quietly.
That worried him more than any alarm ever could.