[Skell]
"Skell, wait - this may not be wise!" Amara tailed me down the spiral staircase.
"I don't care!" My pace quickened. I hit the bottom and stormed toward the front desk.
Dark ripples stirred the adjutant's tea as my palms thud on her desk. She jerked back and looked up, baffled.
"Tell me where you've stashed it!" I demanded. "Tell me where to find The U-"
I-I beg your pardon, young man!" she stabbed a long, crinkled, trembling finger. "You haven't addressed me with even a modicum of the necessary respect to warrant an answer!"
I almost snatched the documents from her other white-knuckled hand. "Second you tell me, the second I'm out of your hair. Believe me, you don't-"
Gentle fingers warmed my icy shoulder. "Skell…" Amara muttered softly. "Follow me. Please. I believe I know where it may be found…"
I turned to the Templar, then back to the dumbstruck adjutant. As long as someone pointed me to resurrection, I didn't care who it was.
"Fine." I seethed. "Lead the way."
—————————————————————————————–———–
Spiraling steps rose beside us. One glance was enough to clamp my eyes closed with frustration. When they reopened, I stared back down at her.
"…Amara," fingers clenched my waist, "I already told you: I've done everything short of tearing shelves off the walls searching for that grimoire. We're not finding it on this floor or any of the ones above."
"I believe you," said the Knight. "We're not ascending the steps."
With an unreadable face, Amara simply pointed down.
Technically, we weren't standing on the archive's lowest level. Just as you could rise from the ground floor, you could descend underground.
"There's more books down there? That placard labelling the floors said nothing about this place."
Amara nodded without a moment of eye contact. Without pause, she trudged down the steps.
Of course, I saw the entrance to this basement level earlier. At that point I assumed it was an off-limits storage area. Now that I knew "The Umbral Rune" might await in its depths, a new atmosphere vented from below. It felt like many things. Most of all, a ribcage-constricting dread. But even if led to the Abyss itself, I'd see this through.
At the bottom, nothing like the upper levels met us. Instead of an illuminated labyrinth of learning, dim-torchlight fell on the cramped walls of a corridor stretching so far ahead it made me squint. No decorations. Just cold gray bricks in all four directions.
We pressed ahead shoulder-to-shoulder, brushing against suffocating walls. Eventually the hall's end came into view. There, I spotted an unassuming wooden door.
Bumping past Amara, I rushed toward my goal. Hungry eyes stopped at the door, almost chewing through it to peek inside.
No keyhole and no lock. Just a knob. One turn, and…
"Here," Amara's voice drifted closer, "we store our most… vital pieces of literature: classified information, national secrets, knowledge the populace is absolutely not allowed to possess - even moreso than what is archived above our heads. I myself have never set foot in this room."
"It's… it's in here, isn't it?" I all but begged.
"Your research proved this book exists. If it is to be anywhere in the world, it must lie beyond that door."
I didn't notice it then, but Amara's voice wavered worlds away from her usual confidence. No, I was focused solely on my prize - my reward for every struggle I shouldered and suffered.
An unlifetime of desire guided my hand to the plain doorknob.
I twisted, and…
Nothing.
I twisted again. Harder.
The knob didn't turn an inch.
"Wh-what!? Open, dammit!" I jerked the knob, ramming an arm into the door. Except, I didn't muscle my way into the room-
I was pushed back.
"Huh… how did…?" I caught myself, flicking eyes back at the door. "What in the Abyss happened!? Did the door just shove me away?"
I spun to Amara - standing close behind me. Her eyes were two spots of crimson in a vacant void. She said nothing. The Knight only shook her head.
Stopping to understand her gesture would be a waste of time. I charged the door, reaching for one-half of my broken weapon. This time, I saw it. A translucent substance flashed into view a moment before impact. Weapon and door collided… and a force blew me to the floor.
I shot back up quick. An idea entered my head, sweeping away the pain, and I scanned my surroundings.
Should be dark enough! I'm getting in one way or another!
"Shadow Form!" I incanted, sinking into the ground's darkness.
Even the narrowest slit under the door will be enough! And I see it!
Soaring through the ground's flat dimensions, I thrust a shadowy hand toward the foot of the door.
Just another inch, and-
I was no longer a shadow. Barreling through the air, I slammed against the ground and slid along stone and dust. I stopped near Amara's legs. An awful ache surged through my spine like I surged back upright.
"S-Skell, you're acting irrational!" Amara watched in horror as I let regeneration mend fractured bones.
"Irrational!?" I spun around. "I'll tell you what's irrational - some piddly enchantment blocking my path! Why can't I break through!?"
"Because…" the Knight couldn't hold my gaze, "…no one can. Lumerit's best enchanters all gathered together, working zealously to craft an unbreakable ward that would safeguard the Order's secrets. All of this: the door, the walls - even sections of the floor above? Influenced by that same enchantment."
"Are you serious!?" my knuckles burned white-hot. "Why'd you never tell me!?"
She hesitated. "I… didn't know how."
Raging storms thundered through me - but I wouldn't direct them at her. I gritted my teeth and returned a glare to the door.
"Skell - the ward is impenetrable," she warned. "Ten of you, no, ten of us couldn't break through with either brain nor brawn. There's nothing we can-"
"Hand of Decay!" I channeled a chaotic blend of pain and hunger, frustration and want, into an art potent enough to annihilate steel.
It's so, so close! Behind that door… is everything!
"Stop!" Amara reached for my shoulder. But I'd already rushed ahead. In my tunnel-vision, I didn't realize she followed.
Spectral green energy streaked through the dim corridor as my feet moved as fast as I could push them. Reaching my final barrier, I shot the art forward.
Hand of Decay met the ward with violence. Wild splinters of magic exuded from the reaction; an immediate, growing force bucked back against me. I braced myself. The opposing power was unimaginably strong.
Even so, I wouldn't stop - not even as gruesome images of how this could end snuck into my mind. Just as I ousted them, arms wrapped around my chest.
"Skell, you'll hurt yourself! Or worse!" Amara shouted over the clash - blaring like the howls of a hundred wolves.
The ward's magic easily outpaced Hand of Decay by now. The potential blowback could've blasted off my arm. If I was lucky.
"I'll… heal!" I grunted.
She grinded heels into the floor, enduring the force. "Not just… your body… This… isn't like you!"
Amara's words added new complexities to my thoughts - and new strength to my art's necrotic energies. Hand of Decay shined an even ghastlier green and the screech of clashing powers sharpened. I'd evened the playing field.
But only for a moment. The ward's power progressed in turn, eclipsing mine once again. That's when I understood.
Shading enchantment! However much I throw at it, the thing spews back double! So, I'll… I'll just have to scrounge up triple!
"S-Skell…"
I looked back. Amara braved the brunt of the force - exertion dragging breath straight from of her overtaxed lungs. Her eyes were screwed tight. That didn't stop me from seeing in them that she'd never let go.
That close, and she'll be caught in the outcome too…
Slowly, my mind left behind a world of difficult, conflicting emotion, honing in on a single person.
Hand of Decay's glow dimmed. The weight fighting against us weakened as my underfed art did. Amara noticed the lightening burden, and peeked over my shoulder.
Her eyes caught the exact moment my art - having shrunk to a tiny green sparkle - dissipated completely. And the power reflected back at us? About as powerful as a light breeze. With Amara bracing behind me, I'd barely felt it.
The Knight let go. I turned to see her wipe sweat from her forehead. We shared a long look. Neither of us knew what to say.
Eventually I looked past her, at the unforgiving walls of this limbo. I dragged myself forward, then slumped against them. Barbed thoughts returned to haunt my mind. The kind you had to voice, or they'd tear you apart from the inside.
"All of this, for what?" I slid to the ground. "I scale wall after wall after wall, just to find another shading wall. I just… I just want to live."
"I'm sorry," Amara mumbled after a stilted silence. "If I was strong enough to tell you, I would've."
"At least the other walls were surmountable. I mean, a ward not even my strongest art can scratch? How do I get past that?"
"…There is a way. To enter that room, specifically." Amara stood against the opposite wall, staring into a flickering torch. Her firelit face never looked less optimistic.
"Sure. There's always a 'way', isn't there?" I laughed bitterly.
"Restrictions prevent Templars of our rank from entering that room. To our Order, some information is only earned by those who've proven themselves - beyond passing the Sacred Ordeals. At minimum, you must hold the rank of a Paladin or Warden to gain access beyond that door. Nothing lower."
"But you aren't even there yet, and you're a prodigy." I bit back my reluctance. "How long? How long would it take to reach that rank?"
"…It took me nearly three years to see advancement on the horizon."
"Three years…" I felt hollowed out. "Wh-what's the time for the average Templar? Someone closer to my ability?"
Amara's frown plunged into shadow by the hanging flames. "I cannot mince words; seven years is likely your best-"
"Seven!?" I clutched my hair, ripping out a patch I couldn't feel. "Seven years! Spending two months as this cold corpse has been torment enough, and now you want me to mire in undeath for the better half of a decade!? I'll go insane!"
Amara shut ashamed eyes. "…You're likely already considering other avenues. There are none. Not even the obvious."
The obvious?
"With my help," she explained, "you may think I could achieve Paladin status, enter the room, and supply you the information. That cannot and will not happen."
"What? Why?"
"Skell, I swore an oath. One I pledged with heart and soul. I won't betray the Order. Even for a friend."
"Amara," I growled, "you're not betraying your Order - you're betraying me."
Her eyes flashed wide.
I rose off the ground. "All I need is a single book, used just for myself, and you won't even help me."
"Help you!? I've-" she steadied her breath. "I have helped you this entire time. At great potential cost, might I add."
"For Oliver's sake. Because he begged you to. You never even believed in me. I'm not stupid - I know why you came to the exercise hall: even after all the training you gave me, you never thought I could make it into your Order. Why head straight to the Citadel to see your new peer when he obviously wouldn't be there?"
"I…" the Knight looked around, incredulous. "I can't believe you're saying this! I wanted you to be a Templar - to succeed, even if I underestimated you. Perhaps not at first, but I did - and I'm happy for you."
"If you were really happy for me, you'd get me that book. Now I'm in for a seven-year nightmare, fighting who-knows-what, just to open a damn door!"
She stamped forward. "You ingrate - you see Templar work as your biggest problem? Hyland is aware of your true nature, and he wants to unveil it! Commandant Karthwyn knows I've trained you; knows we've interacted constantly over the last month. If Hyland convinces him - or anyone - of your undeath, it won't merely be your life in jeopardy."
K-Karthwyn knows?
I brushed off the revelation, driving my foot ahead too. "I was under the impression this stint as Templar would begin and end today. Hyland couldn't prove a thing if I was gone with the book before sunrise. I'd just be an odd footnote in Templar history: the one who vanished the day he became Templar."
"A footnote!?" she extended her arms. "This 'footnote' would've stolen one of the Order's most prized secrets on his way out the door. Did you ever consider the mess you would've left me had you succeeded? Or how important that book could be to our Order? With the culprit missing, fingers would've pointed to me in an instant!"
In that cramped corridor, only a few feet separated us. The Knight constricted that gap even further.
"Why shouldn't I have believed against your ability to accomplish this impossible heist? Had everything gone to plan, you would've wreaked chaos upon the Order, and my future. I could never fulfill my dream of commanding a team of-"
"You and your dream. Do you even care about my dream?"
"Do you care about mine!?"
We nearly crashed into each other - ambitions wrestling in our unblinking glares. A furious undead, his dream sealed away, and an enraged Templar, her dream thrust into mortal danger.
There was so much more I wanted to say, to accuse. Most of it immature and petty, in hindsight. Amara - her blood-red eyes narrowed to brutal slits - probably would've had counters.
But we never reached that point.
I backed away, grimacing. "Someone's coming. Act natural."
Abyss. These walls better keep out sound as well as they do intruders.
Amara crossed armored arms, clearly thinking the same thing. "Don't forget I'm your superior. I give the orders."
"Whatever."
Not long after, a scruffy man jogged down the corridor - his heavy heaves threatening to extinguish each torch he passed. Beige robes and an overall limp presence suggested he wasn't a Templar.
…Terrible time for an adjutant to show up.
"Excusez-moi, mister and missus Templar," he slowed to a stop, clutching curly black hair like it was gonna roll off his head. "Would I be correct in assuming your titles are Knight Amara and Squire Skell?"
Amara and I glanced at each other, then nodded.
"Oh, thank the sun!" he broke into a smile mostly hidden by a bushy beard resembling an upside-down copy of his hair. "Finding you two has been harder than locating any book, I think. Er, with all due respect."
"You've been searching for us?" Amara questioned.
"For the last twenty minutes or so - not that it was any trouble, Knight," he emphasized. "See, my boss gave herself a break, citing some 'disrespectful, no-good young man' as getting on her final nerve. Not out of the ordinary for her, really. But anyway, the minute she stepped outside, we received a bubble message. Side note: I sure do love that thing. Brilliant enchantment."
Bubble message?
Any other time I'd have asked questions. Learning about the Order's umpteenth enchantment, though? Dead last on the priority list.
"Although," he frowned, "I do wish it wasn't always another order flying through our chute. Like a 'hey, how're the books treating you' every now and then wouldn't hurt, you know what I mea-"
"Get to the point," grumbled Amara. "Our message?"
"Of course, of course," he nodded. "Though I must say it's quite funny; we nearly gave up looking for you two. Who'd guess you were down here?" His eyebrow cocked. "I notice neither of you are the right rank to go inside. You two probably just didn't know the rules. Or… perhaps you meant to pore over a private moment of passion?"
We looked at him. We just looked at him.
"Y-yes, sorry; none of my business!" the adjutant tugged at his collar. "A-Anyway, your message was simpler than a children's storybook: you both have visitors at the Citadel gates. Two visitors. They asked for you by name."
"By name?" I mentally ran down the short list of possible suspects.
"And their names?" Amara asked, equally confused.
"We, er, don't know," his beard obscured his scratching hand. "One of them - some young lady - refused to give us one. While the Paladin on guard spoke his message, I heard her laying into him about not letting them inside the Citadel. And the other - a teenage boy by the sound of it - kept apologizing in-between her insults. So… yep, probably one of our weirder messag-"
His voice was lost down the corridor - Amara and I were already neared the steps out of that gloomy basement.
Unfinished business remained to be dealt with. Lots of it. But if those visitors were the two people we thought they were… then anything could be postponed.
Even resurrection.