Kai woke to the sound of the archives’ old clock chiming, the peal echoing through the stone like a memory. Weak sunlight barely filtered through the dust-caked windows, painting the stacks in wan gold. He stretched and cracked his neck, feeling the ache of dreams clinging like cobwebs. For a moment, he was unsure if he was alive or still inside some afterlife joke, but the stale scent of parchment and must was proof enough.
He blinked slowly, adjusting to the morning hush. The archive was as it always was—silent, sullen, and profoundly empty. The only thing out of place was a faint shimmer by the desk, a wavering in the air, like heat on summer stone. Kai squinted. The shimmer vanished.
He shrugged it off. It was probably just too little sleep and too much tea. He brewed another cup anyway, the familiar motions grounding him. Every movement here was deliberate, slow. No one expected anything of the Record Keeper, and that suited him fine.
But then the door at the top of the stairs slammed open with a force that made the candle gutter and Kai spill a little tea on his sleeve. He glanced up, already bracing himself for the sort of noble who couldn’t read without an audience.
Raiden von Blackthorne strode down the steps, his cloak swirling behind him like a stormcloud. He looked as composed as ever, but the lines at his mouth were new, and the book was held with almost reverent care. He didn’t speak until he was down in the circle of candlelight by the desk.
“Good morning,” Raiden said. His voice was careful, as if testing the weight of the words. “I finished.”
Kai blinked, then yawned behind his hand. “You must read fast.”
Raiden’s lips twitched. “And you sleep well.” For an instant, something like amusement flickered in his eyes. “Did you find what you wanted?”
Raiden’s attention sharpened. “I found more than I expected.” He set the book on the desk with care. Up close, he looked exhausted, but his gaze was intent—hungry, almost. “Do you know why this archive is called cursed?”
Kai shrugged, leaning back. “Because no one comes here unless they have to. Not a bad curse, as curses go.”
Something cold and unseen brushed Kai’s wrist. The faint shimmer returned at the edge of his vision, circling the desk like mist.
Raiden’s eyes narrowed. “You never answered me yesterday. Are you truly unafraid?”
Kai kept his tone lazy. “Should I repeat my answer? Or is that another noble custom I missed?”
A smile, slight and fleeting, curved Raiden’s mouth. “No customs. Just curiosity.” He leaned forward, his tone quiet. “What if there are things down here no one should see?”
The shimmer thickened, and a sudden hush fell—a silence so dense it pressed against Kai’s ribs. The library seemed to inhale, waiting.
Kai let himself consider, heart slowing. Raiden was close enough to touch, eyes shadowed with some secret hurt. The stone floor beneath his feet felt colder. The candlelight failed to reach the far corners, where the shimmer now pulsed with a faint, silvery light.
A distant whisper curled from the dark, threading between them, so soft Kai couldn’t catch the words. But Raiden heard it. His hand tightened on the desk, knuckles whitening.
He drew a slow breath. “Would you trust me, Record Keeper, if I told you there are ghosts in these archives?”
Kai met his gaze. For the first time, Raiden’s eyes weren’t hard—they were pleading, searching. The shimmer pressed closer, brushing Kai’s skin like cold fingers.
The silence snapped tight, a beat just before something broke. The next move would change everything.