Chapter 18: A Madman’s Prophecy.
Lanard’s footsteps echoed across polished stone as he was led through the heart of the Imperial Palace.
The guards said nothing.
Neither did Captain Elyria, who walked just behind him, her silver armor catching the low lantern light. Cassian trailed at a casual pace as always, hands clasped behind his back, as if this were all a leisurely stroll.
Lan’s expression remained composed, but his mind catalogued every turn, every corridor—mapping what could be his prison, should it ever need to be escaped.
Then, the procession halted.
A vast set of double doors stood before him. It wasn’t gold or even jade. It was made from material darker—an almost black wood veined with violet, on it was carved delicate script in a language Lan couldn’t read.
He could feel something behind them. Age. Silence. Weight.
The doors parted inward with a low, resonant groan.
And he stepped into wonder.
The chamber was large, impossibly so.
A library, yes, but one built for gods or giants at the least. Shelves rose into darkness, vanishing into a ceiling that did not exist.
They spiraled upward in stacked tiers, bridges of enchanted glass connecting one level to the next. Books filled every inch—some bound in leather, others in metals that left traces of light, some wrapped in chains, humming softly as if alive.