33. Tristan: We Meet Again

  “Before you go inside,” Viki began, her voice shaky, “you need to leave your blood behind…”

  “My WHAT?” Tristan’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “Oh, are you scared of needles, poor baby?” Azmira teased relentlessly.

  But one sharp look from Rosalina was enough to shut her up.

  Viki nodded, answering Tristan’s concerns. “Since the Classified Wing holds incredible amounts of…secret knowledge, a vial of blood is needed.”

  “For what reason?” Tristan asked sharply. He wasn’t comfortable with the idea of lending even a drop of his blood to anyone.

  “So the door will open.” Azmira cut in, knocking twice on the thick metallic door with her knuckles. “It’s enchanted. Only allows entry to those who’ve left their blood. It’ll also make sure to silence the magic of those who had entered.”

  Viki nodded quickly. “T-That’s right. To pass through the enchantment, I need to add a drop of both of your blood into the Enkindling Basin” – she gestured toward a shallow stone bowl embedded into a small alcove in the wall left to the door – “then the locking enchantment will recognize you and allow entrance.”

  Tristan had heard of enchantments before – a use of magic available only to those possessing high level Threads. But something didn’t sit quite right with him…

  His eyes narrowed. “You said a drop. But earlier you said vial. Make up your mind.”

  Viki fidgeted nervously. “T-the rest is required for Archmaester Geldhart…”

  “The High Archivist?” Tristan asked, raising an eyebrow. He recognized the name from his many lessons. Harrison Geldhart – an accomplished mage who, in his older years, had taken the role of High Archivist, the one who oversaw the entire academy library and was also one of Ireveus Academy’s headmasters.

  “Why would he need blood?”

  “Blood magic.” Rosalina muttered behind him, her face expression twisting in disgust.

  Tristan’s turned toward her, eyes wide. “That exists? Why wasn’t I taught that sooner?!”

  Rosalina nodded grimly. “Your father was against it. But yes, it does. Should be forbidden and punishable by death. Yet I assume some get a pass anyway.”

  Viki swallowed hard. “It’s allowed by the Crown in rare cases. Like if someone steals something from the Classified Wing. The blood will allow to cast a binding trail if needed…”

  “No.” Tristan said firmly. “You’ll get what you need for the disenchantment. One drop. That’s it.” He folded his arms. “You use it under my supervision, open the door, and nothing more. I’m not handing anything extra.”

  “I-I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Viki kept stammering. “I wasn’t told the people I was supposed to smuggle into the library would need the Classified Wing. If I had known, I would’ve refused – and I still would – “

  “We’re here now. Do your part or face the consequences.” Rosalina cut in, her voice cold.

  “Leaving no blood behind? That’s unheard of!” Viki snapped surprisingly. For a second, her fear was swallowed by desperation. But then her eyes widened, as if realizing what she just did, and she shrank back like a scolded puppy. “If something gets damaged or stolen because of you, the higher-ups will trace it back to me. I’d be facing a punishment worse than death for letting you inside.”

  Tristan opened his mouth to push back – but he stopped. He saw it in her eyes: she wasn’t bluffing. Whatever punishment she would face was worse than death in her eyes.

  “Well,” Azmira said, grinning mockingly, “I guess you’ll be turning around and leaving now, huh? What a shame…”

  Tristan snapped. “Fine. Do it.”

  “Little Devil, no!” Rosalina barked, stepping toward him.

  “I need to get inside.” He said firmly. “I can feel it.”

  Then he turned to Viki.

  “Azmira will be my witness. I won’t steal or damage anything. You have my word. And when I leave – I expect my blood back. All of it. Or there will be hell to pay.”

  ***

  The blood extraction process was painless. They used a small needle which was left next to the basin to make a finger bleed.

  After instructing Rosalina to take the vial away from Viki the moment he stepped inside – he had never actually considered leaving it behind – Tristan followed Azmira past the now-open metallic door and into the Classified Wing.

  Viki closed the door behind them without a word. No instruction. No guidance.

  “You said you’ve visited here before,” Tristan said, his voice echoing faintly. “Lead the way, then.”

  Azmira nodded slowly. “Yeah...” She said, dragging the word out as she took a few steps forward.

  The Classified Wing was cloaked in shadows. The only light came from softly glowing orbs that drifted silently above them. One of them fixed on their position and followed them along – a personal light.

  Tall bookshelves filled with more dust than books surrounded them – at least half of them empty. The air was cool and dry, and every footstep they took felt loud. Somewhere far off, they heard the quiet tap of shoes on stone, but it was rare, and they never stumbled upon anyone.

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  Most importantly, no one in the Classified Wing spoke. The chamber was dead silent.

  The place was definitely the opposite of inviting.

  There seemed to be no tables – nothing the visitors could use to comfortably study the materials they had gathered. It was as if the library had expected everyone to do it in a standing manner – or rather, tried to keep visitors away from the Classified Wing by making them as uncomfortable as possible.

  “Where do I even start?” Azmira suddenly muttered to herself.

  “Hmm?” Tristan asked, catching the hesitation in her voice.

  “It’s nothing.” She replied quickly, shaking her head and averting her gaze. “What are you looking for again?”

  Tristan rubbed his forehead, exhaling slowly. “I don’t know. I guess…I’ll understand when I see it.”

  Azmira glanced around them. “This place is pretty big, you know?” She said, gesturing vaguely toward the branching rows of shelves. “Some are empty, but there are still a lot of tomes and scrolls in here.”

  “I’ll follow you to wherever you were going. For now.” Tristan replied, his voice thoughtful. He didn’t really have a plan.

  But something deep inside of him – some strange, unshakable feeling – was certain of one thing: he had come to the right place.

  Azmira led the way, slowly at first – oddly slow for someone who claimed to have been inside the Classified Wing before.

  ‘Maybe it’s just because it’s dark…’ Tristan thought as his eyes continued darting around the glowing orbs that drifted above them. If each one followed a visitor – or a group of them – then there weren’t that many visitors in the Classified Wing at the moment.

  Then, suddenly, Azmira picked up the pace.

  “Hey,” Tristan whispered to her, trying to match her speed. “Slow down.”

  Azmira glanced back over her shoulder with a teasing grin. “Come on, slowpoke. You wanted to come along – move those tiny legs.”

  Tristan gritted his teeth and kept walking, faster now. She was underestimating him. Despite being just ten, all of his physical training had made his child body extremely flexible and durable.

  But then, suddenly his heart twisted. Pain shot right through it. It almost felt like that night again – the night of his death, when he was shot.

  He dropped to his knees and began breathing heavily, his heartbeat rising in panic.

  But just as quickly as this overwhelming feeling appeared, it was gone.

  Tristan sighed in relief, unsure of what had just happened. When he lifted his head, Azmira was nowhere to be seen.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake…” He muttered to himself.

  The maze-like bookshelves offered no clues. He could follow other orbs of light to try and find her, but it would still take him quite some time. And that’s without even considering the fact that if someone would stumble upon him here on his own, he would surely be escorted outside – there was no reason for a child to be in the Classified Wing alone.

  Tristan knew he had to return. Viki will suffer the consequences and so will Azmira. But he must return first.

  Then – he felt it.

  A tug. Not physical, but internal. Like his heart had latched onto a thread and begun pulling – slowly and insistently.

  His frustration faded, replaced by curiosity.

  Tristan straightened, heart pounding.

  “What…is this?” He whispered. His unexplained feelings from before finally taking shape.

  The pull grew stronger, drawing him to a side corridor where the shelves grew more tightly packed. It was as though something was calling to him – someone.

  He had to find it. Whatever it was.

  He approached one of the towering bookshelves in the small corridor, and stopped when the pull ceased.

  But it wasn’t over.

  In its place came burning.

  A slow, steady blaze rising from deep within his chest. It wasn’t a metaphorical or spiritual pain. It was actual internal burning.

  He staggered backward, gasping, clutching at his shirt.

  The pain was unbearable – but familiar.

  His mind reeled, flashing back ten years, to the void that was Gartan’s realm – where he was granted rebirth, and the being claimed his soul was marked by his seal. It was the same burning sensation back then.

  Tristan fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, ripping it open. Right above his heart, his skin was glowing red.

  He reached out to touch it, but the second his fingers met his skin, his hand sizzled. Pain lanced through his arm and his knees buckled.

  “What is this…” He whispered through gritted teeth, sweat dripping down his forehead, evaporating from his chest.

  Suddenly, the burning intensified.

  His lungs convulsed. His body shook. His vision blurred. The pain was tearing him apart from inside.

  And, then – he screamed.

  The sound echoed through the Classified Wing like a wounded animal’s cry, shaking the walls.

  A moment later, the entire chamber exploded.

  A violent, blistering explosion erupted from Tristan’s body – wild and uncontrollable – something Ifrit himself would’ve been proud of.

  The fire roared outward, swallowing the entirety of the Classified Wing.

  ***

  When Tristan opened his eyes, his hands instinctively reached for his body – but it wasn’t there.

  Even his hands weren’t there.

  He was floating. Disembodied. Thought and soul drifting through an endless void.

  He glanced around, already familiar with the black emptiness. It was the same place from all those years ago.

  And then he saw them.

  Hovering in the dark – two yellow, glowing, cat-like eyes.

  Gartan.

  “Welcome, welcome, my beneficiary.” Gartan greeted, his voice echoing around Tristan. “How’s your new life treating you?”

  “You bastard!” Tristan snapped. “What the hell was that?! You made me explode!”

  Gartan laughed, the sound sending a chill down Tristan’s non-present spine. “Relax, Tristan. When you return, you’ll see you’re still intact.”

  “Fucker…” Tristan growled. “You think this is funny? First, you screw me over by making me magicless, and now I’m also your walking bomb?! What was in that library you wanted destroyed? Don’t act like that pull didn’t come from you. Spill it.”

  Gartan’s tone shifted – soft, cold. “Tristan…you’re sharp. Sharper than most. But don’t talk to me like you have any power here.”

  The moment the words left his mouth, a searing paint ignited in Tristan’s chest again – the burn of Gartan’s mark.

  “You are mine, little puppet. Don’t forget.”

  Tristan gritted his teeth through the pain, refusing to scream this time.

  “But,” Gartan continued smoothly, “I’ll answer your question, since you’re so curious.”

  The pain eased, just enough to breathe.

  “There was something in that library that needed to be erased. Too many people had been digging too deep into places they shouldn’t. Someone had to put an end to it. I’m glad you were nearby.”

  “…Azmira?” Tristan asked, wondering if she was the culprit, yet unsure on why she would need to find information about Gartan.

  “Among others.” Gartan replied flatly.

  “Who else?”

  But Gartan remained silent.

  “What secrets were hidden there?” Tristan pressed, changing the question.

  “Now, now,” Gartan purred, “if I told you, they wouldn’t be secrets anymore, would they?” He paused for a moment, as if relishing Tristan’s fuming reaction, then continued. “You’d learn them all on your own one day. But today is not that day.”

  Tristan exhaled slowly, trying not to let his frustration take over him. He shifted topics to one question that haunted him since his sixth birthday.

  “Why am I magicless?”

  “Didn’t I promise you a life of struggle and hardships?” Gartan replied, following with a short laugh. “Eludranth was always going to block your gate.”

  “You said I’d have an advantage!” Tristan snapped. “But I can’t even use my past life’s knowledge to capitalize on it because my bat-shit insane father is constantly breathing down my neck with his expectations for me to have magic!”

  Gartan laughed loudly. “Oh, I assure you, Ifrit is entirely sane. One of the sanest humans in Terra, in fact.”

  “Right.” Tristan groaned, exasperated. “What do I do now? How do I get my magic back?”

  “Ah…” Gartan mused. “That’s the thing. You don’t.”

  “What?” Tristan blinked. “What do you mean I don’t?!”

  The yellow eyes seemed to nod. “When Eludranth closes a gate, it remains sealed until he changes his mind. Which happens once in…never.”

  “There has to be a way.”

  “You already know one.” Gartan replied, sounding amused.

  “I’m not consuming those damn Worms!” Tristan snapped.

  “Then you’d better find another way, Tristan.” Gartan said, the eyes practically grinning. “And trust me…there is another way. One only you would be able to use.”