𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
It's the beginning of a new age when Jaylah Imperatrix seemingly returns from the dead to reclaim her throne. And in perfect timing.
In her absence, evil has be...
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Act 3 Chapter 50 JAYLAH
The odd man was nowhere to be seen for the next few days, even as we walked on foot through town after town to get to Kilhoste. There was a noticeable influx of merchants and well-to-do men on the streets once we entered the city three days after the events in the theatre. The overall climate of the country was changing from the strange creatures, hair-raising calls in the night and old Gods of the north to the factories, conmen and ruthless money-making of the south. Paragonia was nothing if not extreme. I could not decide which half was more dangerous.
Each night before I went to sleep, I stared down at the locket in the box and pondered what secrets were locked in its core. I would not open it for fear of accidentally letting Draven's power loose, but then it dawned on me how little I knew of the thing's machinations. Would simply opening the locket give me Draven's power—if so, how did it know to graft to me and not Alexander or anyone else in its vicinity? And what would become of me if I was strong enough to hold the power, even only for a few moments? Surely some sort of ritual had to take place to sate the rage of the God. Even if He was gone, an integral part of Him remained inside.
My worst fear was foolishly unleashing Him upon the world once more, uncontrolled. At least Daggen was human, and therefore killable.
Seeing as Daggen knew where to find the locket, I had to assume he also knew much more about the way it worked than I did. Meaning he could possibly take its power moments after stealing it from me. I made a promise to myself not to open the locket under any means, but I just wanted to be sure...
That led to my goal in Kilhoste: to make a beeline for the Bibliothèque de Kilhoste, a towering place between a bank and a publishing house that sported a domed roof with a statue of Ulima barely visible at the top. It was easy to locate after asking directions from the friendliest-appearing passerby.
My home in Naxaros had a library, but it was nowhere near as extensive as this one. Bookshelves were lined from the floor to the domed ceiling, ladders perched precariously fifteen meters high to reach them. Despite the usually silent nature of libraries, this was also somewhat of a tourist destination. In fact, two rowdy foreigners were being escorted from the premises as we entered.
Alexander followed me closely up the stairs, for according to the directory the informative texts were on the second story. I was then hyper aware of him sliding to my left side, putting me between the ledge and himself. There was a railing, but it was only waist-high.
"If you attempt to shove me over the edge, I will strangle you half to death," I told him.
The edges of his mouth turned up in a smile alike a cat who caught a canary.
My lips pursed. "You would like that." The way his grin remained was answer enough. "Your mother must have dropped you on the head as an infant."
"Likely," he said cheerfully, not even trying to feign innocence.
