Chapter 54: The Missing Pages
Nobody was allowed to leave the archive chamber.
That decision came from Zereth less than a minute after the journal had been opened. The silver-eyed immortal stood beside the table while several archive keepers remained near the doorway. Even the workers who had uncovered the hidden compartment were ordered to stay where they were.
Mason understood why.
A journal belonging to the Last Witness was not the kind of discovery anyone wanted disappearing.
Unfortunately, the journal itself seemed determined to remain unhelpful.
Zereth carefully turned another page.
Then another.
Then another.
Silence settled across the room.
Mason frowned. "Why does everyone suddenly look disappointed?"
One of the archive keepers swallowed nervously.
"Because half the pages are missing."
That explained it.
The journal itself was genuine.
The age matched.
The handwriting matched.
The cover matched.
Everything matched, except somebody had removed nearly half its contents.
Several sections had been cut cleanly from the binding, not torn...but removed deliberately years ago.
Possibly centuries.
Mason rubbed his forehead. "Of course they did."
Zereth didn’t disagree.
The immortal continued examining the remaining pages.
Most entries appeared fragmented.
Dates were missing.
Names had been scratched out.
Entire paragraphs had been covered with black ink.
Whoever censored the journal had been extremely thorough. Which somehow made the surviving sections more valuable.
Athlian remained unusually quiet. That worried Mason more than the journal.
Whenever Athlian became silent, something unpleasant usually followed.
"What aren’t you telling me now?"
A pause followed.
Then she answered.
’I know that symbol.’
Mason stiffened slightly "What symbol?"
Her attention focused on one of the surviving pages.
Near the bottom sat a strange circular mark.
Several overlapping rings.
Three vertical lines.
A broken crown.
Nothing about it looked familiar to Mason.
She, however, clearly recognized it. ’I’ve seen it before.’
"Where?"
Another pause.
Longer this time.
’I don’t know.’
That answer sounded genuine. Which was becoming a recurring problem.
Athlian remembered pieces.
Fragments of emotions and Images.
Never enough to form a complete picture.
The soul bridge was clearly changing.
Assura’s warning returned immediately.
The separation is weakening.
Mason disliked that sentence more every day. Across the table, Zereth suddenly stopped turning pages.
His expression sharpened.
"Found something."
Everybody moved closer.
Mason immediately regretted participating.
Important discoveries rarely improved his life.
Zereth pointed toward a surviving entry.
The handwriting was faded but still readable.
Only a few lines remained intact.
The passage read: The Tribunal grows impatient. The heavens fear what is being remembered.
Three Witnesses have already vanished.
The fourth refuses to leave.
The debt approaches.
Nobody spoke. Mason reread the lines twice.
Then a third time.
The same phrase appeared again.
The debt.
The identical phrase from the damaged archive record.
Athlian reacted instantly. Fear slipped through the soul bridge.
Mason noticed immediately. Unfortunately Zereth noticed him noticing something.
The immortal’s gaze lingered for a second longer than necessary.
Then he moved away.
The problem with intelligent people was that they paid attention.
The problem with Zereth was that he paid attention constantly.
One of the archive keepers finally broke the silence.
"What debt?"
"No idea," Mason answered.
Zereth closed the journal. "We don’t speculate yet."
A sensible response but nobody listened.
The speculation began immediately. By sunset, half the palace had apparently developed theories.
The Witnesses were prophets.
The Witnesses were traitors.
The Witnesses were secret rulers.
The Witnesses were servants of Heaven.
The Witnesses opposed Heaven.
Every theory contradicted the previous one.
Mason hated all of them equally. By the time he escaped the archive wing, his patience had been thoroughly exhausted.
The palace gardens looked significantly more appealing than politics. He followed a familiar stone path beneath the evening lanterns.
The capital stretched beyond the walls.
Workers still repaired damaged districts.
Merchants moved through crowded streets.
Life continued.
That remained strangely comforting because Heaven Fracture had changed everything. Yet people still argued over prices.
Still complained about taxes.
Still worried about ordinary problems.
Maybe that was what recovery looked like.
"You look troubled." Draca’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
Mason wasn’t even surprised anymore.
The commander appeared from a nearby path carrying absolutely no reports.
A rare sight.
"A miracle," Mason said.
Draca blinked. "What?"
"You don’t have paperwork."
The commander glanced at his empty hands. "I left it behind."
"I didn’t know that was allowed."
A faint smile appeared.
"Neither did I."
Mason laughed despite himself.
The tension eased slightly.
Draca joined him beside the stone railing overlooking the lower gardens.
For a while neither spoke. The comfortable silence returned naturally.It happens more frequently these days.
Neither seemed inclined to question it.
Eventually Draca looked toward him.
"The journal disturbed you."
Straight to the point...which is typical.
Mason considered denying it. Then decided it wasn’t worth the effort.
"It disturbed everyone."
"Not everyone."
Assura probably found the entire situation entertaining.
A deeply irritating possibility.
Draca folded his arms. "You’re worried about something specific."
Mason stared at the distant city lights.
Technically true. Unfortunately the specific thing involved an ancient goddess living inside his head.
Not an easy topic of conversation.
"Just tired."
Draca studied him quietly. The commander clearly didn’t believe that answer.
Fortunately he didn’t press further.
Another quality Mason appreciated.
Draca knew when to stop pushing.
Not many people did.
A strange warmth drifted through the soul bridge.
The emotion wasn’t directed at Mason.
It was directed at Draca.
It feels so complicated.
Mason immediately pretended not to notice.
Athlian noticed him pretending. ’Coward.’
"Quiet." He said outwardly.
Draca raised an eyebrow. "I didn’t say anything."
"Not you."
The commander looked concerned.
Reasonable reaction.
Mason immediately corrected himself. "I was talking to myself."
That explanation somehow sounded worse.
Draca stared...then sighed.
"I worry about you."
The honesty caught him off guard.
Athlian went silent again.
Mason looked away first. An unfortunate tactical defeat.
"That’s a terrible hobby."
"It seems necessary."
"I survive surprisingly well."
"That’s debatable."
Mason wanted to argue. Unfortunately recent events weakened his position significantly.
The conversation drifted elsewhere afterward to...
Safer topics.
Reconstruction.
Security concerns.
Coalition demands.
Ordinary disasters.
By the time they parted ways, the knot in Mason’s chest felt slightly lighter.
He hated how effective Draca was at that.
Later that night, sleep arrived quickly.
The dream arrived faster.
Mason found himself standing inside a corridor.
A familiar corridor.
Stone walls.
Ancient lanterns.
Endless darkness.
The same place from previous fragments.
This time he wasn’t alone...footsteps echoed ahead. Someone walked through the corridor.
A figure wrapped in dark robes.
Their face remained hidden. Yet Mason felt something strange.
Recognition, not personal recognition...but
something deeper. Like seeing a memory through somebody else’s eyes.
The robed figure stopped before a massive door.
Symbols covered the surface.
Thousands of them.
Each glowing faintly.
Then a voice spoke.
The same feminine voice from earlier dreams.
"You cannot stop what is coming."
The robed figure answered.
For the first time, Mason heard their voice.
"We do not intend to stop it."
Silence followed.
Then the woman spoke again. "Then why continue?"
The answer came immediately. "Because someone must remember."
The dream shattered.
Mason woke abruptly.
Cold sweat covered his skin.
Moonlight illuminated the room.
His heart pounded...Athlian was awake as usual.
Neither seemed surprised anymore.
"You saw it too."
’Yes.’
He leaned back against the headboard.
The dream felt different. The memories were becoming stronger.
Exactly as Assura predicted.
"What does remembering mean?"
Athlian didn’t answer immediately.
When she finally spoke, her voice sounded distant.
’I’m starting to think that’s the wrong question.’
Mason frowned. "What does that mean?"
Another pause.
A knock interrupted them.
At this hour...wonderfull because
Nothing good ever arrived after midnight.
"Enter."
The door opened.
A palace messenger hurried inside.
The young man looked nervous.
Very nervous.
"My goddess."
"What happened?"
The messenger swallowed. "Lord Zereth requests your presence immediately."
Mason stood. "Why?"
The messenger hesitated.
Then answered.
"Another hidden chamber has been discovered beneath the archives."
Athlian froze.
The reaction struck through the soul bridge so suddenly that Mason nearly staggered.
Something about those words mattered.
A lot.
The messenger continued speaking.
"They found a sealed room below the foundations."
Mason barely heard the rest. Because another sensation surged through the soul bridge.
A memory.
Stronger than any previous fragment.
A stone door.
Ancient symbols.
A single sentence carved across the surface.
For one brief second, Mason saw it clearly.
Then the image vanished. Leaving only one surviving thought behind.
Athlian’s thought.
A thought filled with shock. And dread.
’That room shouldn’t exist.’
The messenger blinked. "What?"
Mason realized he had spoken aloud.
Silence filled the chamber.
Athlian remained frozen. For the first time since the Heaven Fracture, she sounded genuinely frightened. And when she finally spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper.
’If it’s the room I remember...’
She stopped.
Mason’s stomach tightened.
Because Athlian never stopped voluntarily when a memory appeared. Which meant whatever she had almost said was something she feared even more than the truth.
Outside, distant bells began ringing across the palace.
Emergency summons.
One after another.
And deep beneath the archives, something that should not have existed had just been found.
