The next night, Gai was back at the end of the hallway, facing that old tapestry again. His heart thudded—not out of nerves, but because he couldn’t help looking forward to what was behind it. He slid the fabric aside, careful and unhurried, then stepped through into the hidden passage. As he made his way down, the temperature dropped and each step clicked against the stone. Before he even reached the library, he caught that familiar scent: parchment mixed with worn leather. It somehow felt like an old friend, even though all of this was still new.

  Entering the library again felt almost eerie, as if nothing had changed since his last visit. Fresh candles glowed now, throwing warm light across crowded tables and tall shelves. Shadows flickered over ancient tapestries and along the spines of countless books. Elle sat at a table near the middle of the room, all easy focus as she leafed through a book bound with complicated knots and clasps. Hearing his approach on the flagstones, she looked up.

  "I was wondering if you would come back," she said simply when their eyes met again. Her voice held no trace of surprise—only calm acknowledgment that suggested she had expected this outcome all along.

  He returned her look with a small grin as he drew closer. “Honestly, I didn’t stand a chance,” he admitted after a beat. He glanced around at all the shelves again—so many books it was hard to imagine ever running out of new things to find—and let out a low breath. “This place is something else.”

  Elle gave a brief nod but didn’t answer right away; instead she closed her book carefully and rested both hands on its cover. When she spoke again, there was a quiet resolve there that hadn’t been before: “It is,” she said, steady and soft. Her eyes found his again, direct and unwavering. “And these books have plenty of secrets left—if you’re curious enough to go looking.”

  Gai drifted over to the table, his steps muffled by the vastness around him. He took in the books spread out before her—old covers, worn edges, and faded gold titles that felt like they might crumble if you looked too long. The familiar smell of dusty parchment and leather lingered, mixing with candle wax in the air. He paused, glancing at her. “So,” he asked quietly, “what’s caught your attention tonight?”

  Elle didn’t look up right away. She traced a fingertip over the embossed pattern on her book, pale skin flickering in the candlelight. When she did speak, her voice was steady but thoughtful. “History,” she replied. After a second, she explained further: “Stories of old wars, lost kingdoms, people no one remembers anymore.” Her eyes met his then—clear and serious, like she’d read most of it herself.

  Gai leaned over the table, his hand brushing a frayed page. He hesitated, then asked in a lower voice, “Do you think any of these might say something about that cloaked person I saw?”

  Elle considered his question, eyes narrowing just a bit in thought. As she shifted in her seat, a few strands of pale hair slipped across her shoulder and caught the candlelight. “Could be,” she said finally, her tone matter-of-fact. She tapped lightly on a line in her book. “There’s a whole mess of mentions—secret groups, odd rituals, the kind of things people barely whisper about. If your mysterious friend is part of all that…” She stopped, thinking it over for a moment. “Well, we might actually turn up something useful in here.”

  Gai felt those words settle between them—equal parts reassuring and unsettling. They shared a quick look, then both bent back over their books. The next stretch was mostly silent except for the shuffle of pages, the scrape of chairs when they reached for another volume, and the low murmur whenever one of them found something interesting.

  Gai struggled to get through more than a couple paragraphs at first. The writing was old and packed with confusing phrases that made his head spin. He pressed his fingers to his forehead after re-reading the same sentence for the third time. Elle glanced up and, with an almost hidden smile, said quietly, “These are tough going. Don’t feel bad—I get lost in them too sometimes.”

  “I’m starting to think these authors were just messing with us,” Gai grumbled quietly, making Elle stifle a laugh.

  “Perhaps they did,” she replied with a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “Knowledge is often guarded by those who fear its misuse.”

  The exchange left Gai feeling unexpectedly at ease in her presence. Despite her composed exterior, there was an understated warmth to Elle—a quiet kindness that drew him in like a moth to flame.

  After what felt like hours spent poring over faded text and cryptic illustrations, Gai paused to stretch his arms above his head, letting out a low sigh. “Why do you think this library was forgotten?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence. His gaze wandered upward to the towering shelves that loomed over them like sentinels of time.

  Elle’s response came after a moment’s thought. She sat back in her chair, her hands resting lightly on the edges of the book before her. “Perhaps it was simply lost to time,” she said softly, though there was a distant look in her eyes that suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced by her own words. “Or maybe…” She hesitated briefly before continuing, her voice dropping slightly as if sharing a secret. “…maybe it was hidden intentionally. To protect what lies within—from those who might misuse it.”

  Gai frowned, considering this possibility. His mind raced with images: shadowy figures sneaking through these very halls centuries ago, sealing away knowledge too dangerous for ordinary hands. “Do you think…?” He trailed off before starting again more firmly. “Do you think the cloaked figure could be after something specific? Something hidden here?”

  Elle’s eyes narrowed just a touch as she studied him, like she was weighing the real intent behind his words. After a moment, she gave a slow, careful nod. “Could be,” she said, guarded. “But people’s reasons… they’re not always clear, even to themselves.” Her voice dropped a notch, almost thoughtful. “Sometimes we go searching for answers and realize we don’t even know what question started it.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Their conversation ebbed and flowed like tides throughout their search—moments of intense focus punctuated by quiet exchanges that revealed glimpses of their thoughts and fears.

  Later, as Gai struggled with yet another dense passage detailing an ancient sect’s rituals involving celestial alignments, Elle stood abruptly from her chair. Her movement was fluid and purposeful as she crossed the room toward one of the higher shelves lining the far wall.

  “What is it?” Gai called after her curiously.

  “There’s something I remember seeing earlier,” Elle replied without looking back. She reached up toward one of the higher shelves where dust lay thick enough to dull even the faintest glimmer of gold lettering on book spines.

  She retrieved a particularly old volume—a fragile thing bound in cracked leather that looked ready to crumble at any moment—and carried it back to the table with both hands cradling it protectively.

  “This might have something,” she said quietly as she returned to her seat.

  Gai leaned forward eagerly as she opened the book with great care—her movements slow and deliberate so as not to damage its delicate pages. The parchment crackled faintly under her touch as she turned to a specific page filled with intricate illustrations.

  “What is it?” he asked again—but this time his voice held an edge of excitement as his eyes widened at what lay before them.

  “A compendium,” Elle explained simply—but there was an unmistakable note of awe in her tone now too—as though even she hadn’t expected to find something so significant here among these forgotten tomes.

  “Artifacts,” she continued after a pause—her finger hovering over one particular illustration depicting an ornate orb glowing faintly against blackened ruins—and for one breathless moment Gai felt as though they’d stumbled upon something truly extraordinary.

  “Objects of power,” Elle murmured almost reverently now—her voice barely above a whisper—as though speaking too loudly might shatter whatever fragile thread connected them to this discovery.

  “Is it possible…” Gai began hesitantly before trailing off again—but Elle finished his thought for him without hesitation:

  “…that one of these artifacts is what your cloaked figure seeks?”

  Gai’s mind spun, piecing things together faster than he could make sense of them. The possibility settled into the pit of his stomach, equal parts dread and curiosity. He glanced at Elle, voice dropping a notch. “You think that’s it? The cloaked person’s after one of these? Is that what connects everything?”

  Elle stilled, her hand hovering above the fragile page. She met his gaze directly, a seriousness sharpening in her features. “It could be,” she said, her words careful and deliberate. “If that’s true, we’ll need to narrow down which one they’re after—and why it matters so much. These aren’t just relics on a shelf, Gai. Each has its own story… and not all of them are harmless.”

  Her words lingered in the silence, mixing with the shifting candlelight and the faint, musty smell of old paper. Shadows moved along the rows of books and scrolls, stretching across the floor. Gai pressed his palms to the worn tabletop, feeling each scratch and groove—a small anchor as his thoughts raced in every direction.

  They lost track of time, paging through crumbling books and puzzling over faded sketches and strange notes. The candles flickered and guttered, throwing uneven light over everything. Now and then, Gai risked a sideways look at Elle. She was deep in her reading, brow furrowed as she quietly mouthed pieces of dusty text. There was something steady about her—focused, unhurried—that made him feel both challenged and oddly reassured.

  But it wasn’t just the rows of books or the thrill of chasing down secrets that hooked him; it was the way something genuine had sparked between them—a kind of unspoken understanding that deepened with every quick exchange and half-smile over a puzzling passage. He’d never expected to actually *like* working with someone on all this—not here, not like this. Solving the mystery mattered, but suddenly it mattered more because he wasn’t in it alone.

  When early light started creeping in through the high windows, washing the room in pale gold and gray, Elle finally shut her book with a soft thump, breaking the quiet. She glanced over at Gai, her tiredness obvious but softened by a small, real smile.

  Elle closed her book with a final, decisive snap and shot him a look that brooked no protest. “That’s enough for one night. If we don’t stop now, I’m going to start reading the same line until it turns into nonsense. We’ll pick this up tonight perhaps.”

  Gai lingered, reluctant to let go of the momentum they’d built, but a tired yawn betrayed him. He managed a half-smile. “Yeah, alright,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “You’re right. And... thanks—for all of it.”

  A spark flickered in Elle’s eyes, her exhaustion replaced by honest excitement. Her usual reserve fell away as she grinned. “Don’t thank me, Gai. This is my idea of a good time.” She nudged his arm gently, voice bright. “I grew up with my mother telling me you can lose almost anything, but not what you’ve learned—she was relentless about it.”

  She tucked an unruly lock of pale hair back behind her ear and shot him a quick look, more sincere than before. “It’s better having someone to bounce ideas off who isn’t just an old portrait or a stack of dusty notes,” she admitted.

  That hint of delight lingered in her tone as she drew herself up and stretched, joints popping quietly in the stillness. For all her calm assurance, there was no hiding how young she actually was beneath all the knowledge. “And honestly,” she added with a snort, “if we keep at this much longer, every shadow’s going to turn into some ancient secret society. I’m pretty sure neither of us wants that level of paranoia today—but I won’t lie, I could probably stay here all day if you let me.”

  Her words settled between them—not heavy or awkward, just an unspoken agreement that working together made it better somehow.

  While Elle gathered up her scattered notes with brisk efficiency, Gai watched the way she moved—the balance between thoughtful focus and bursts of restless energy—realizing that for all her answers and insights, Elle was just as caught up in discovery as he was. In that moment, she wasn’t so distant after all; she felt like an ally—someone who wanted to figure things out just as much as he did.

  The library’s hush was hard to leave. For one long moment, Gai stood in the doorway, not wanting to break the spell of the candlelit gloom and the half-buried stories still lingering in the air. The amber glow painted soft shadows over Elle’s features as she bent back to her book—already lost to her own thoughts, already a world apart.

  Gai paused in the doorway, debating whether to say something or just slip away. In the end, he just lifted a hand in an awkward sort of wave, not sure if she’d catch it. She did—a small nod, barely more than a tilt of her chin, and a faint curve at her lips that told him she’d noticed. Good enough. He stepped out, easing the heavy door shut behind him until it clicked softly, letting the leftover warmth and candlelight vanish with it.

  Dawn had started sneaking into the corridors outside, throwing pale light against cold stone and long shadows. His footsteps echoed more than he remembered—probably guilt reminding him he was supposed to be somewhere else by now. He retraced his path up the cramped passage, slipping out from behind the tapestry and into the empty hallway beyond. The musty scent of books still clung to him as he crept down the winding stairs toward the barracks.

  The halls were quieter than they ought to be, just frost dripping somewhere out of sight and old beams creaking overhead. It made his walk back feel longer—and heavier—than usual, every step giving him more time to come up with excuses for missing his shift.

  When he finally reached the barracks door, he braced for the familiar racket: snoring, cursing, maybe someone arguing with their boots. Instead, the door was already open and yellow lamplight spilled into the foyer like someone was waiting—or laying a trap. Gai hesitated, pulse picking up.

  Inside stood a man Gai didn’t know at all—rigid posture in the centre of bright lamplight like he’d been staged for effect. The guy might’ve been carved out of sharp lines and starch; even his boots shined like they’d never touched mud in their life. A plumed helmet tucked under his arm—the elaborate feathers definitely not standard-issue for Gai's crowd. For half a second Gai wondered if he'd wandered somewhere he shouldn't have.

  Anders stood beside him, rigid as a statue, his face an unreadable mask of stone. The stranger's eyes raked over Gai like they were tallying up faults on a checklist. "Report," barked the officer—short and sharp enough to make even Anders flinch.

  Adventure Gai's Discord