Chapter 36: The Cathedral of Lies

　　The silence of the Royal Archives was a physical presence, thick and heavy as velvet. It was a stark, shocking contrast to the chaotic roar of the city outside. They stood for a moment, frozen in the dim light filtering through high, stained-glass windows, dwarfed by the sheer scale of the place. The air was cool and smelled of ancient paper, polished wood, and the faint, sweet scent of preserving herbs. It was a scent Caden knew intimately, a scent that had been the backdrop to his entire adult life. But this was Basgiath’s archive magnified a hundredfold, a temple to knowledge that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

　　Violet’s hand found Caden’s arm, her grip tight. Her eyes were wide, not with fear, but with a kind of furious reverence. This was the source. The place where the truth had been buried under layers of vellum and lies.

　　“We need to split up,” Xaden whispered, his voice barely disturbing the sacred hush. “We cover more ground. But we stay in sight. Signals only.”

　　It was a risk, but a necessary one. The archive was a labyrinth. They had no time to search it methodically together.

　　Caden’s mind, the mind of a master archivist, kicked into gear. He knew how these places were organized. The most sensitive, contemporary records—the ones pertaining to recent military campaigns, to the General’s own reports—would not be on the public floors. They would be in a restricted section, likely deep within the complex, accessible only to the highest echelons of the scribe quadrant and the royal court.

　　“The Black Wing,” he murmured, the name coming to him from texts on archival security. “It’s a sealed wing for active, classified documents. That’s where we’ll find the Aretia files.”

　　“How do we get in?” Violet asked, her gaze scanning the seemingly endless rows of shelves.

　　“We don’t,” Caden said grimly. “Not through the front door. It will be warded and guarded.” He pointed towards a dark, arched passageway that branched off from the main hall. “But the maintenance passages we used… they should run behind it. There will be a way in. A service entrance for the scribes. It will be less secure.”

　　They moved like ghosts through the towering aisles, their soft-soled boots making no sound on the thick carpets. The sheer volume of knowledge was overwhelming. Millions of stories, millions of lives, condensed into ink and binding. And somewhere among them was the one story that had the power to rewrite them all.

　　They found the passage Caden had indicated. It was unmarked, a simple oak door that looked like a supply closet. Xaden worked his magic on the lock again, and it swung open to reveal a narrow, dark corridor lined with pipes and conduits—the arteries of the archive. The air was warmer here, humming with the faint energy of the building’s magic-infused climate control systems.

　　Caden led the way, his heart pounding. He was following a map that existed only in his memory, pieced together from fragments of forbidden texts and architectural treatises. They passed grates that looked into reading rooms where a handful of scholars toiled under pools of lamplight, oblivious to the intruders in their walls.

　　After several tense minutes, they reached a solid, metal door. Unlike the others, it had no visible lock, only a smooth, polished surface etched with faint, glowing runes.

　　“Warded,” Xaden stated, his voice tight. He placed a hand near the door, not touching it, his eyes closed in concentration. “Strong magic. It’s keyed to specific signatures. Scribe signatures.”

　　Despair threatened to choke Caden. They had come so far, only to be stopped by a door.

　　“Can you break it?” Violet asked, her voice strained.

　　Xaden shook his head, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Not without setting off every alarm in the Citadel. It’s a blood-lock. Or a signature-lock. We need a key.”

　　A key they did not have. They stood in the dim, humming passage, the weight of their failure pressing down on them. The truth was on the other side of that door, but it was as unreachable as the moon.

　　It was then that they heard it. The soft, rhythmic scrape of a chair, followed by footsteps, approaching the door from the other side.

　　They froze, pressing themselves against the cold stone walls. A lock clicked. The metal door began to swing inward.

　　A figure stepped into the passageway, a senior scribe in immaculate robes, carrying a stack of folios. He was middle-aged, with a kind, slightly absent-minded face. He blinked in surprise at the sight of them, his mouth opening to form a question.

　　He never got to ask it.

　　Xaden moved with the speed of a striking snake. There was no violence, no sound. One moment the scribe was standing; the next, Xaden had an arm around his neck, applying precise pressure. The scribe’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped into unconsciousness. Xaden caught him and the falling folios with an almost gentle efficiency.

　　Garrick quickly dragged the unconscious man back into the dark recesses of the passageway, securing him with a length of cord.

　　Xaden stood in the now-open doorway, the stolen folios in his hand. He wasn't looking at the papers. He was looking at the doorframe. A small, crystalline panel was set into the wall beside it, glowing with a soft, blue light.

　　“The lock resets when the door closes,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “It needs a continuous signature to remain open.” He looked at Violet, then at Caden, a grim realization dawning. “We can’t all go in. The door has to stay open. Someone has to stay here. To be the key.”

　　The implication was clear. The person who stayed would be trapped in the passageway. If they were discovered, there would be no escape.

　　“I’ll do it,” Rhiannon said immediately, her face pale but determined.

　　“No,” Violet said. Her gaze was fixed on the open doorway, on the shelves of forbidden knowledge within. “I’ll stay.”

　　A chorus of quiet protests erupted, but Violet cut them off with a sharp gesture. “It has to be me. If you’re caught inside,” she looked at Caden, “you’re the only one who can find what we need. Xaden, you’re the only one who can get you out if it goes wrong. I’m the liability in a search. My presence here, as the ‘key,’ is the most logical use of resources.” Her logic was cold, brutal, and unassailable.

　　She stepped to the doorframe, placing her hand near the crystalline panel. “Find it,” she said to Caden, her eyes blazing with a final, desperate command. “Find the truth.”

　　Caden nodded, a lump in his throat. He, Xaden, and Garrick slipped through the doorway into the Black Wing.

　　The door began to swing shut. The last thing Caden saw was Violet’s small, resolute figure, her hand held up to the panel, her face a mask of grim sacrifice as the metal door sealed her into the silent, humming darkness of the passageway. She had become the literal key to the truth, holding the door open with her presence, risking everything for the chance that lay within.

　　The fallen knight had entered the inner sanctum. The weapon he had guided was now the shield that protected him. The final search had begun.

　　Chapter 36 - End