Gai tightened his hand around the spear’s handle, his rough fingers running over the well-worn grooves he’d memorized though his long shifts. The grip was both smooth and worn, familiar enough to bring him back to himself as he moved through Arieruro Castle’s shadowed corridors. His gaze stayed sharp, alert despite the hour, as he scanned the old stones—cracked and battered by years but solid as ever. He caught the chill scent of stone and a hint of burning pitch, carried along with the gentle crackle from torches on the walls. Their flames hiccupped and danced, shadows wriggling across uneven stone.
Each step thudded in the quiet, echoing down twisting halls so that it almost sounded like the castle was keeping pace with him. The silence in between was thick and close, pushing in on him until all he could hear was his own breathing. Gai set his jaw, mind drifting to last week—a blur of fighting and panic he still carried with him.
The ambush was still stuck in his head, cropping up at night and dragging him out of sleep. He could still hear his friends shouting in the dark as everyone scrambled just to stay upright against that monster. He’d gotten by with nothing worse than a couple scrapes—healed up fast, too, mostly thanks to sheer stubbornness and a bit of luck. The others hadn’t been so lucky.
“Anders,” he muttered, shaking his head at the memory of seeing his friend hobble out of the infirmary that morning. Anders could walk now—barely—but looked pale as a ghost and twice as worn out. And Edgar? Gai bit back a sigh. Edgar was still stuck in bed down in the healer’s wing, his life hanging by a thread. Every time Gai thought about it, something heavy pressed in on his chest, making it hard to breathe.
Maric’s voice kept bouncing around in Gai’s mind, offering no real comfort. “It’s not a punishment or a demotion, Gai,” the captain had said just two days ago, his face as serious as ever. “You made it through hell. You’ve earned some time away from those cold ramparts. I don’t put fools on indoor duty—you’re one of the steady ones.” Maybe he thought that would help, but it did nothing for the restless feeling twisting in Gai’s stomach. Pacing these clean halls just felt like being set aside, waiting for trouble that never showed up.
The castle itself only made things stranger. Its endless passageways and hidden corners seemed designed to bewilder anyone who didn’t have a map—or a decade to waste getting lost. Some halls led to grand rooms with velvet drapes and gilded chairs beneath painted ceilings full of heroes and angels. Others opened into snug studies where firelight flickered over stuffed shelves and battered old armchairs.
No matter how winding the route, every corridor on this floor eventually spilled into the same place: the banquet hall, sprawling and empty right now. Gai glanced inside as he passed—long tables lined up under glittering chandeliers, all polished wood and self-importance.
He ran into well-dressed merchants and lesser nobles here and there, their smugness practically trailing behind them like perfume. They strutted around like they owned the place, which only made Gai feel more out of place—his struggles light-years away from whatever concerned them.
He stopped at the bottom of the grand staircase—huge, heavy, all dark wood and overdone carvings someone probably spent years on. He glanced up at the glow spilling from upstairs, thinking about all the deals and decisions happening above his pay grade, among visiting bigwigs he’d never get close to. Still, he could feel every choice made up there creeping down through the castle, ending up right here, where people like him were assigned to pace hallways instead of fight.
A quiet sound broke the hush—a subtle shift that cut through the usual creaks and groans of the old castle. It was barely there, just a gentle swish and a whisper of fabric brushing stone, but it shot straight through Gai’s nerves. He gripped his spear tighter, eyes sweeping the dim hallway for anything out of place.
There.
Down at the end of the corridor, just barely lit by the nearest torch, someone in a cloak slipped along the wall with exaggerated caution and vanished behind one of the big tapestries. The heavy cloth shivered for a heartbeat—just enough to catch Gai’s eye, though most people probably would’ve missed it.
His pulse jumped, all senses on high alert. Was that an intruder? Some would-be thief, or a spy thinking themselves clever? Or worse—something nasty creeping where it shouldn’t? Whatever the answer, Gai was certain of one thing: whoever ducked behind that tapestry didn’t have any business being there.
“Alright, who’s skulking behind there?” Gai called, his voice cutting through the hush. No answer—just more silence, not even the faintest shift. He started toward the tapestry, every step careful and steady, boots scuffing softly over the uneven stones and sending their own quiet echoes ahead. His grip on the spear tightened—a familiar weight in his hands, the tip catching what little light there was from the wall sconces. The hallway felt tense, shadows thick along the walls. Gai kept his breathing even, but his heart raced loud enough he was sure anyone hiding would hear it. He didn’t let it show as he moved in closer, knuckles white around the shaft.
The tapestry stood in front of him, faded but still impressive, with patterns so tangled he couldn’t have made sense of them even if he tried. The edges were worn and threadbare, the whole thing drooping on its hooks like it was tired of pretending to be fancy. In the torchlight, the red and gold threads caught just enough glow to look shifty—like they were hiding something if he stared too long. Gai kept his steps quiet, boots barely making a sound as he closed in. The air coming from behind was colder than it should have been—wrong for a spot tucked away inside the castle. Muscles tense, eyes locked on the tapestry, he called out in a low voice, sharp enough to mean business: “Alright, enough. Whoever’s back there, let’s see you."
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The tapestry didn’t so much as flinch. Gai licked his lips, throat dry, and crept forward, every step quiet and deliberate like he was walking into a hornet’s nest. He stopped with barely an arm’s length between him and the edge of the cloth, hesitating. His hand hovered mid-air, fingers twitching just a hair as he reached for it. For a second, he wavered—what if it was empty? Or worse, what if something was actually lurking there? The thought prickled at the back of his neck. He drew a slow breath, steadying himself. Fear wasn’t something he gave in to easily—training had knocked most of that out of him—but this felt different, somehow. Like he was about to step into something big, and he didn’t know what waited on the other side.
He braced his spear and grabbed the edge of the tapestry, yanking it back in one practiced tug. Darkness stared back at him—no sign of movement, just black. He sucked in a quick breath and swept the cloth aside completely, the fabric giving way with a muted flap. Behind it, a tight stone passage revealed itself, cramped and coated in dust. Tracks cut through the grime here and there, but he couldn’t tell how fresh they were or who’d left them. The air rolled out thick and stale, tinged with metal, making his nose wrinkle in distaste.
Still, there was something wrong about that darkness—too dense, too close, almost as if it meant to block his way. Gai edged forward, every sense on edge, and felt the narrow walls hemming him in. The stone was clammy under his fingertips, slick with moisture that caught what little light slipped in behind him. The deeper he went, the colder it got; the chill crept right through his clothes and gnawed at his bones. He clenched his jaw and kept moving, footsteps muffled in the hush except for the faint scrape of his boots against the gritty floor.
The passage dragged on and on, winding downward without end until Gai couldn’t have said how long he’d been walking. There was no sense of time down here—just his steady steps and the feeling that the darkness might swallow him whole. Then, sudden as a slap, the walls opened up and he nearly stumbled into a wider room, stopping short at the threshold while his eyes tried to make sense of what he was seeing.
The place was huge—far bigger than he’d have believed possible this deep into the castle—and almost eerily empty. Bookshelves towered overhead, stretching so high they reached multiple levels. Every shelf looked like it might collapse from the weight of books stuffed into the shelves, their leather bindings cracked and ready to fall apart if you so much as looked at them wrong. Dust lay thick on everything, blurring out corners and dulling what little colour there had ever been. A handful of candles flickered here and there on tables and ledges, throwing just enough light to keep the darkness at bay, their flames barely hanging on as if they too were waiting for this place to be remembered.
Gai stepped forward, boots stirring up little clouds of dust that drifted before settling again. The silence around him wasn’t just empty—it felt solid, pressing in from every direction. He felt small, like an unwelcome guest in a place that didn’t want him there.
A sudden flash of red caught his eye, pulling him out of his daze. He froze, crouching a little and sweeping the room with his gaze. Between two tall bookshelves stood a woman. Her back was to him as she ran her fingertips over the spines, almost as if she were greeting old friends. Her robes were deep crimson, the silver embroidery along the edges shimmering in the candlelight. They draped over her loosely, pooling around her feet like molten silk.
Her hair was the colour of moonlight—white-blond and shining against skin dark as polished mahogany, falling in smooth waves that tucked behind the delicate points of her elven ears. Gai hesitated, his breath caught in his throat, torn between blurting out a greeting and slipping back the way he'd come. At last, he cleared his throat, the sound echoing unnaturally loud in the hush.
"Excuse me," he said, voice rough and unsure. He gripped his spear tighter but made no threat of raising it. "Who are you? And how did you get here?"
She turned slowly, deliberately, as though time wasn't a factor. When her eyes met his, Gai's breath hitched—not from fear, but something else entirely. Her eyes were gold, streaked with amber that seemed to glow from within. They fixed on him with an intensity that felt like she was seeing right through him.
"I could ask you the same thing," she replied, her voice smooth and calm, like water flowing over stones. She sounded curious, cautious—but not hostile. "My name is Elle," she said after a pause that felt just long enough for Gai to want to jump in, though he held back, not wanting to break her gaze. "I come here often... to read."
"To read?" Gai echoed, surprised, gesturing around at their surroundings with one hand while keeping a firm grip on his spear with the other. "Here? It looks like no one's been here in ages."
Elle's lips curved into a soft smile—not unkind, but mysterious enough to make Gai feel like he was missing some unspoken connection between them. "Age doesn't take away value," she replied cryptically before turning back toward the shelves, as if either dismissing him or perhaps subtly inviting him into her world without saying so directly.
Gai hesitated, weighing his options, before trailing after her into the thickening shadows between the shelves, curiosity getting the better of caution.
Elle offered a small, almost secretive smile—easy to miss if he hadn’t been watching. It wasn’t bright or playful, but touched with something private. “My family’s been coming to this castle forever,” she said, her tone carrying a quiet kind of pride. She traced a line on the battered table nearby, her touch gentle, like she could feel every story worn into the wood. “When I was little, my mother used to spin tales about this library—how it was tucked away where no one bothered to look, filled with things worth finding if you had enough patience. Honestly, I thought she was making it up.” She paused for a heartbeat, her eyes glinting with a memory. “But then one day I got lost here, wandering off where I shouldn’t. And somehow… there it was.” She looked over at Gai, a soft warmth in her expression. “Since then, it’s always felt like home to me.”
Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Gai let his grip on the spear slacken as her words settled over him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d barged into something private. Clearing his throat, he lowered his spear and managed a sheepish nod. “Didn’t mean to barge in,” he admitted a bit awkwardly. “It’s just—I spotted someone in a cloak coming through here and figured they might be trouble.” He shot her an apologetic glance and scowled at the memory of being lured off course.
Elle’s expression shifted in a heartbeat—her relaxed look vanished, replaced by something sharp and wary. “A cloaked figure?” she repeated, her voice tight as she paused, fingertips stiff on the table. “That’s not supposed to happen,” she said under her breath, half to herself. Then she looked him dead in the eye: “Nobody else should know about this place. Especially not anyone who’d come sneaking around. Most people in the city don’t even remember it exists.”
Gai took that in quietly, letting his eyes wander over the endless spines and ancient gold-inked titles stacked around them—most of them unreadable even if he tried. The sheer amount of knowledge made him feel out of his depth but oddly determined too. “I should probably tell my captain,” he said at last, clearly reluctant but practical all the same. “If someone else found this place… well.” He glanced back at Elle before adding in a lower voice, “But—if it’s alright with you—I’d like another chance to come back here. There’s more here than I can even guess at—and I wouldn’t mind learning some of it.”
Her mouth lifted into something like encouragement—not quite open but not closed either—like she was letting him have a foot in the door but keeping the rest of herself behind it for now. “You’re welcome here,” she answered quietly, sounding sincere without making a big deal out of it. “Places like this aren’t meant to stay secret forever.” She let that hang for a moment before adding with half a shrug and just the hint of mischief, “Maybe together we’ll figure out what everyone else has forgotten.”
Gai stood there for another moment, looking from her to the mountain of old books and back again—the flicker of candlelight catching on dust and age-old bindings—and felt something inside him settle for once.
“I’ll be back,” he promised simply. He started for the library’s exit but paused just long enough to exchange one last look with Elle; she gave him a short nod that said all it needed to.
