Chapter 39: A Truth Too Heavy to Hold

　　The rain fell in relentless, grey sheets, turning the alleys of Calldyr into streaming, muddy channels. Huddled in the doorway of the abandoned shop, the five of them were soaked to the bone, shivering with a mixture of cold, exhaustion, and the aftershock of adrenaline. The distant, frantic pealing of the Citadel’s alarm bells was a constant, grim reminder that the most powerful institution in Navarre was now actively hunting them.

　　Caden’s fingers were numb, but he clutched the leather scroll case as if it were the only thing anchoring him to the world. It felt impossibly heavy, a physical embodiment of the burden they now carried. They had the truth. But in this moment, trapped in the rain with the hounds baying, the truth felt less like a weapon and more like a death sentence.

　　“We can’t stay here,” Xaden said, his voice a low growl that cut through the drumming rain. His eyes, sharp and restless, scanned the mouth of the alley. “The Quill will seal the city. House-to-house searches. We need a plan. Now.”

　　“We have the evidence,” Violet said, her voice strained but firm. She pushed wet hair from her face, her gaze fixed on the scroll case. “We need to get it to someone who can use it. Someone with the authority to challenge my mother.”

　　“Who?” Garrick asked, his tone bleak. “The King? He’s a recluse. His council is filled with her allies. The scribe quadrant? They answer to her.”

　　A cold, hopeless silence descended upon them. They had risked everything for a truth that nobody in power had any interest in hearing. They were fugitives in a city controlled by their enemy, holding a secret that made them too dangerous to live.

　　It was Rhiannon who broke the silence, her voice quiet but clear. “The press,” she said. They all turned to look at her. “Not the official bulletins. The pamphleteers. The whisper-sheets. They print in the shadows. They thrive on scandal.” She had a point. Calldyr, like any great city, had an underworld of information—crude, hastily printed broadsheets filled with gossip, conspiracy theories, and accusations too salacious for the mainstream.

　　“It’s a risk,” Xaden countered. “They could be in her pocket. Or they could be too afraid to print it.”

　　“It’s the only channel we have that isn’t controlled by the crown,” Violet said, a spark of desperate hope in her eyes. “If we can get the truth to the people… if it becomes a rumor, a story in the taverns and markets… it becomes a seed. It can’t be un-learned.”

　　It was a gambit of last resort. It lacked the decisive power of a formal accusation, but it had the insidious, viral quality of a plague. A truth, once loose among the populace, was impossible to fully eradicate.

　　“We need to find one,” Caden said, his archivist’s mind latching onto the practicality of the problem. “The printers. They’ll be in the Warrens. The old city. Where the authorities rarely go.”

　　The Warrens were a labyrinth of crumbling tenements and narrow, twisting lanes on the wrong side of the river, a haven for criminals, non-humans, and those who preferred to live outside the gaze of the Citadel. It was the perfect place to disappear, and the perfect place to find a printer of illicit materials.

　　But getting there was the problem. The alarm bells were still ringing. They could already hear the shouts of the City Watch in adjacent streets, the sound of organized search parties beginning their grim work.

　　“We need to split up,” Xaden declared, his decision final. “A group of five is too conspicuous. We’re targets.” He looked at Violet and Caden. “You two. You have the evidence. You go to the Warrens. Find a printer. Garrick, Rhiannon, you’re with me. We’ll be the diversion.”

　　“No,” Violet said immediately, her face pale. “That’s suicide. They’ll catch you.”

　　“That’s the point,” Xaden replied, his expression grimly resolute. “We’ll lead them on a chase through the merchant quarter. Make enough noise. Draw their attention. It will give you a window to cross the bridge to the Warrens.”

　　It was a brutal, tactical calculation. Sacrificing the few for the success of the mission. The unspoken understanding hung in the air: Xaden, Garrick, and Rhiannon were offering themselves as bait, knowing capture likely meant execution.

　　Violet looked at them, her comrades, her friends. The marked ones who had followed her into exile. Tears mixed with the rain on her cheeks. “I can’t ask you to do this.”

　　“You’re not asking,” Garrick said, offering a grim smile. “We’re telling.”

　　Rhiannon nodded, her jaw set. “The truth is worth it.”

　　The moment was too large for words. There were no grand speeches, no tearful goodbyes. There was only the grim acceptance of a necessary sacrifice. Xaden met Caden’s eyes, a silent command passing between them: Protect her. Get the job done.

　　Then, they were moving. Xaden, Garrick, and Rhiannon melted into the rain, heading towards the sound of the approaching guards. A moment later, they heard a crash, followed by shouted curses and the blast of a whistle. The diversion had begun.

　　Caden grabbed Violet’s arm. “We have to go. Now.”

　　They ran in the opposite direction, keeping to the shadows, their hearts pounding in sync with the alarm bells. The city was a maze of panic and confusion. The diversion was working; they could see squads of Watchmen converging towards the commotion.

　　They reached the great bridge spanning the Tarwin River. It was heavily guarded, but the guards were focused on stopping people from entering the Citadel district, not leaving it. They slipped across with a crowd of panicked citizens fleeing the noise, their heads down, just two more faces in the chaotic exodus.

　　On the other side, the character of the city changed instantly. The clean, wide avenues gave way to cramped, foul-smelling streets. The grand marble buildings were replaced by leaning, timber-framed houses. They had entered the Warrens.

　　The truth was in their hands. But the cost of carrying it was already being paid in blood and sacrifice behind them. The fallen knight and his charge had reached the final, most desperate stage of their quest: to plant a seed of truth in the most barren of soils, and hope it could grow in the dark.

　　Chapter 39 - End