Chapter 53: The Journal of the Last Witness
Nobody touched the journal for several seconds.
The damaged archive chamber felt strangely smaller than before.
Dust floated through narrow beams of afternoon light while workers and archive keepers stood frozen around the opened box.
Mason stared at the faded leather cover.
Property of the Last Witness.
The words alone were enough to make the atmosphere uncomfortable.
Athlian had gone completely silent.
Again.
Mason was beginning to hate when that happened.
Because every time she became quiet, something ancient and dangerous seemed to follow shortly afterward.
Zereth carefully turned the first page.
The parchment crackled softly.
Everyone leaned closer.
The handwriting was elegant but surprisingly ordinary.
Not the grand script of some legendary figure.
Not the elaborate calligraphy of a prophet.
Just neat handwriting.
Human handwriting.
The first sentence read:
If this journal has been found, then either I have failed... or history has.
Silence settled over the room.
One of the archive keepers swallowed visibly.
Mason rubbed his forehead. "That is exactly the kind of sentence mysterious people write before causing problems."
Nobody disagreed.
Even Zereth looked mildly irritated.
The immortal continued reading. "The Witnesses were never guardians. We were never rulers. We were never servants. We existed only to remember."
The next several lines had faded beyond recovery.
Time had erased entire sections.
Only fragments remained.
"...when Heaven changed..."
"...records destroyed..."
"...those who objected disappeared..."
Then nothing.
The page became unreadable.
Zereth carefully turned another.
More fragments and missing pieces.
The journal had survived centuries, but barely.
Draca stepped closer. "What caused the damage?"
"Age," one of the archive keepers answered.
"Possibly deliberate damage as well."
Someone apparently enjoyed destroying evidence.
Mason was becoming familiar with the pattern.
Every interesting discovery in this kingdom arrived half-broken.
The next page revealed another readable section.
This time the handwriting looked rushed.
The writer had clearly been under pressure. If the archives remain untouched, then perhaps there is hope. If they have been altered, then our fears were justified.
A cold feeling settled inside Mason’s stomach.
Altered.
The same word kept appearing.
Records altered.
Documents removed.
History rewritten.
Someone had spent enormous effort hiding something.
The question remained simple. Why?
Zereth continued turning pages.
Most contained damaged notes; locations, dates...
None of them meant much yet.
But a pattern slowly emerged.
The Witnesses had traveled widely.
Far beyond the kingdom.
Far beyond temple authority.
Far beyond royal authority.
They had observed...recorded and documented.
That seemed to be their purpose. Yet every mention of what exactly they observed remained damaged or removed.
Almost intentionally.
Athlian finally spoke. ’Someone didn’t want them remembered.’
Mason nearly sighed in relief.
At least she was talking again.
"That much is obvious."
’No.’
Her voice felt distant. ’You don’t understand.’
Unfortunately she refused to elaborate.
Mason resisted the urge to scream internally.
Zereth reached the middle section of the journal.
A folded piece of parchment slipped free.
Everyone immediately became interested.
The immortal unfolded it carefully.
A rough map appeared.
Several locations had been marked with faded ink.
Most meant nothing to Mason.
One location did.
The capital.
Another mark sat far north.
A third rested near the eastern mountains.
The final location had been scratched out entirely.
As if someone had deliberately tried to erase it.
Draca frowned. "Do we recognize these locations?"
One of the archive keepers nodded slowly.
"Some."
"Which ones?"
"The capital mark corresponds to an abandoned archive beneath the old temple district."
The room became quiet.
Abandoned archive.
Those two words have become very dangerous lately.
Zereth carefully rolled up the map. "We will investigate it."
One minister who had arrived midway through the discovery immediately looked unhappy.
"Without informing the Coalition?"
"Yes."
The answer came from Seraphine.
She had entered moments earlier and apparently heard enough.
The minister opened his mouth.
Seraphine looked at him.
The man immediately reconsidered his life choices.
The meeting dissolved shortly afterward.
The journal was transferred under heavy guard.
Additional restrictions were placed on the archive wing.
Nobody seemed happy especially the ministers.
By evening, rumors had already begun spreading through the palace.
Mason hated rumors.
Mostly because they reproduced faster than rabbits.
By sunset, three different versions of the story already existed.
One claimed the journal belonged to a forgotten god.
Another claimed it contained instructions for opening Heaven itself.
The third somehow involved cursed goats.
Mason didn’t even ask.
Some mysteries deserved to remain mysteries.
He escaped to his chambers before dinner.
The moment the door closed behind him, he dropped into a chair.
"I need a vacation."
’What’s a vacation?’
"Something this kingdom refuses to allow."
Athlian laughed softly. The sound felt warmer than it had in days.
That alone caught his attention.
"You seem happier."
A pause followed.
’Maybe.’
"Maybe?"
Another pause but longer this time.
’I remembered something.’
Mason straightened immediately. "What?"
The amusement vanished.
Athlian became quiet again.
Not withdrawn just thoughtful.
’The Witnesses weren’t feared because of power.’
"Then why?"
A strange emotion crossed the soul bridge.
’Because they remembered things others wanted to forget.’
Mason frowned. That answer sounded important, unfortunately it was also vague.
Athlian clearly knew more. Yet something prevented her from saying it.
Whether fear or uncertainty, he couldn’t tell.
The conversation ended when another knock interrupted them.
Privacy remained a myth.
"Enter."
The door opened as Draca stepped inside.
The commander looked tired again.
At this point exhaustion was becoming part of his uniform.
"You should sleep."
Draca immediately pointed at him.
"You first."
Mason frowned.
"That argument only works once."
"It continues working."
Annoyingly true.
The commander entered and closed the door. For several moments neither spoke.
The comfortable silence returned naturally.
It happens often now. More often than Mason wanted to acknowledge.
Eventually Draca sat across from him.
"The journal."
Mason groaned. "There it is."
Draca smiled faintly.
"You knew I’d ask."
"Unfortunately."
The commander leaned back.
"What do you think?"
Mason considered the question.
There were several answers.
Most of them are terrible.
"I think someone spent centuries hiding information."
Draca nodded. "I agree."
"I think Zereth is going to become unbearable until he finds answers."
Another nod.
"Definitely."
"And I think every discovery somehow creates three new mysteries."
"Also true."
The commander looked almost amused.
For a moment neither focused on politics and conflicts.
Just normal conversation.
The realization felt oddly comforting.
Athlian noticed immediately. ’You relax around him.’
Mason ignored her professionally.
The traitorous goddess laughed.
Draca tilted his head slightly.
"What?"
"Nothing."
The commander looked unconvinced.
The conversation drifted toward reconstruction efforts.
Food shortages.
Supply routes.
Temple disputes.
Less exciting subjects.
Yet somehow Mason found himself enjoying it because Draca spoke plainly.
No manipulation.
No hidden motives.
No ancient riddles.
Just honesty.
The palace needed more people like that.
Several hours later, after Draca finally left, Mason managed to fall asleep.
The dream arrived immediately.
No warning.
No transition.
One moment he lay in bed.
The next he stood inside a vast corridor.
Stone walls stretched endlessly in both directions.
Hundreds of doors lined the passage.
Every door carried symbols he couldn’t recognize.
Athlian appeared beside him.
Not as a voice or feeling.
But physically beside him.
The dream version of her looked younger somehow.
Less burdened.
Less afraid.
She stared at the corridor.
"No."
Mason looked toward her. "You know this place?"
Athlian’s expression tightened.
Before she could answer, a door opened somewhere ahead.
A figure stepped through.
The person wore a dark cloak.
Their face remained hidden. Yet the moment Mason saw them, a strange familiarity struck him.
Not recognition but something else.
The cloaked figure stopped.
Then slowly turned toward them.
Mason felt his heartbeat accelerate.
The dream shifted violently.
The corridor disappeared.
The figure vanished.
Everything shattered into fragments of light.
He woke up with a gasp.
Moonlight filled the room.
His pulse hammered inside his chest.
Athlian was awake too.
Neither spoke immediately.
Finally Mason broke the silence.
"Tell me."
Silence.
"Athlian."
More silence.
Then a sigh.
’I know that corridor.’
His stomach tightened.
"What is it?"
A long pause followed.
’An archive.’
Of course it was. Everything was becoming archives lately.
Mason dropped back onto the bed.
"Wonderful."
’Not a normal archive.’
That got his attention.
Athlian sounded unsettled which rarely happened.
"What kind?"
Another pause.
’One that shouldn’t exist anymore.’
Before Mason could ask another question, a sharp pulse traveled through the soul bridge.
A flash appeared inside his mind.
A door.
Ancient symbols.
A burning sky.
Then darkness.
Gone instantly.
He sat upright again.
"What was that?"
’I don’t know.’
He believed her completely.
Morning arrived too quickly.
The palace was already in chaos.
Servants rushed through corridors.
Officials moved between meetings.
Guards doubled security around several wings.
Something had happened.
Mason discovered what during breakfast.
Seraphine entered the dining hall carrying a sealed report.
Her expression alone killed the room’s atmosphere.
Not even the former lovers attempted conversation.
A remarkable achievement.
Draca arrived moments later.
"So?"
Seraphine placed the report on the table.
"The abandoned archive."
Mason immediately paid attention. "What about it?"
"The entrance is gone."
Zereth, who had arrived only moments earlier, froze.
"Gone?"
Seraphine nodded.
"Collapsed."
Draca frowned.
"Naturally collapsed?"
The woman looked directly at him.
"No."
That single word changed everything.
The table became silent.
Mason already knew the answer before she continued.
Someone had gotten there first.
Someone had deliberately destroyed the entrance.
Someone who knew exactly what Zereth had discovered.
The realization settled heavily over the room.
Because it meant one thing. They were no longer investigating ancient history.
Ancient history was investigating them.
And somewhere inside the palace, someone was watching every move they made.
Far away, hidden within a sealed chamber beneath the capital, a lone figure closed an ancient book.
Dust drifted through the darkness.
A single lantern illuminated the room.
The figure stared toward the ceiling.
Toward the palace above.
Then slowly smiled.
"The Last Witness has been found."
And for the first time in centuries...Someone answered from the shadows.
"Then the debt is awakening."
