Chapter 1251: The Archives

"They’re gone," I whispered, gripping Luke tightly.

"You left Borealis and Fable in there. Can you still feel them?"

Dully, I nodded, though they felt impossibly far away.

"Then they’re still alive," Verity said.

"But they lost the true Nexus," I whispered.

"R’lissea can cast another one. Be brave, Xiviyah. They sacrificed themselves to open the path. Don’t let that be in vain," Luke said.

His voice was calm and measured. He was right. They hadn’t hesitated when the options became clear. Doing so now would dishonor them.

"Do you remember the way to the Archives?" Luke asked, prodding gently.

I swallowed hard, nodding. "I-it’s not much farther."

"Then let’s get going," he said, brushing a hand through my hair. "The others are counting on us."

I nodded, holding on to him a moment longer before reluctantly letting go.

The passageway continued past several more branching intersections, leading deep beneath the mountains. The air grew hot and heavy, suffocating. Mana saturated every inch of stone, growing denser the further we traveled.

The church had laid several more traps for us, but none of them were designed to stop ninth-level beings. What few challenges couldn’t be ignored with Adaptive Resistance were blown through by virtue of Luke’s sheer speed.

The air smelled of dust and death, and soon, ancient, musty parchment. I slowed as we rounded the last corner and found ourselves before a massive set of double doors. A dozen sixth-level inquisitors stood before it, but they stiffened the moment they laid eyes on us, paralyzed by Luke’s aura.

"This is it," I whispered, my fingers curling around my staff. "The Archives."

Luke set me down, drawing his sword from the shadows. The inquisitors trembled, struggling against his might. I averted my eyes, and soon their screams went silent.

"It’s warded. Locked from within," Luke said.

I nodded, stepping over the still-twitching corpses with a heavy lump in my throat. I laid my hand against the cold stone door and exhaled softly. Oblivion flowed from my fingers, searching out the eighth-level wards binding the Archives. They faded away, unbound by the laws of the world.

"Okay," I murmured, withdrawing my hand.

Luke gave the door a shove, and it blew open. The enchantments snapped back into place the moment they were separated from my aura, but it didn’t matter. We were already inside.

The smell of parchment, ink, and dust washed over us in a stale wave. My hand trembled, and my grip on Final Star slipped. I nearly lost hold of it before Luke’s tail caught mine, drawing me close to his side.

I barely noticed, staring up at the vaulted ceiling of the Archives. The entrance was like a market plaza, vast and spacious, with tunnels and corridors branching off into old, forgotten passages. Makeshift fortifications of stonework and wood barricaded most of them, surrounding the lobby like a colosseum.

Across the marbled floor, the World Shard shone brightly beneath its hallowed eaves. Over a hundred feet tall, it dominated the room, the source of all its light and mana. I was nearly blinded just looking at it, and wryly remembered having much the same experience the first time I’d stood in its presence.

"So. You’ve come."

My gaze fell upon an old, frail man standing in the center of the room, flanked by Soltair, Luxara, and an elderly ninth-level mage. The mage stood slightly apart from the others, his hands folded into his sleeves, watching us quietly.

The chamber was otherwise empty. That sent a shiver down my tail.

"Pope," Luke said, his tail bristling, rasping against mine. "I shouldn’t be surprised. Why wouldn’t you be cowering behind your soldiers and priests? They died believing in you. They died in vain."

The Pope motioned with his hand, something of a shrug. "They died as all mortals do. In service to their gods."

Luke’s grip on his sword tightened. "Tens of thousands, maybe millions."

"Just numbers."

"And you, Hero? Did it please you to cower here, where it’s safe? Did you even hear their screams?"

Soltair let out a long breath, his expression dark. "The path of a hero isn’t an easy one. If the light is to prevail, and I know it will, there must be sacrifices. Such is the nature of war." His gaze drifted to me.

I bit my lip, my fingers curling into my skirt. I couldn’t return his gaze.

"I see you’re still bound to him," Soltair said, frowning slightly. "Is he truly that much better of a master than I? Is the dark so much more attractive than the light? Or has he chained you to his side? If you but need saving, call out. I swear by the light of all that is good and holy, he won’t touch you again."

I stared at him, unsure what to say. After everything that had happened, he still spoke as though I were the same frightened girl he’d brought to the Divine Throne. Had he really changed so little, or had I simply never understood him?

"Why do you keep showing her mercy?" Luxara asked, folding her arms with a sniff. Her slitted, draconian eyes pierced me like daggers. "She’s a slave. She always will be. It’s only natural she serves the hand that feeds her."

Luke bristled, his tail lashing, but he kept his peace, giving me a small nod. I exhaled shakily, my tail curling around his, seeking its warmth.

"I’ve come for the Shard," I said, finally meeting their gazes. "Please, I don’t want to fight you."

"And the Apostle?" the Pope asked, narrowing his eyes at Luke. "He seems to enjoy fighting, especially if it means torturing and murdering those who are only seeking truth and righteousness."

"Her word is not mine," Luke said, his aura sharp and frigid. "You will all die this day."

"Luke," I whispered, gripping his sleeve.

"They are a cancer, Xiviyah. A poison on the very world. Should they escape, you will never have peace."

"Is it wrong to fight for what is right?" Soltair asked, taking a step forward. "So long as there is blood in my veins, I will never let a ruthless tyrant like you have dominion. How many have your wars caused to suffer? Do you really think us so naive as to believe this will be the end of it? No, tyranny only begins once it has a throne. I will never let you claim yours."

Luke lifted his sword, pulling me behind him. I knew that look. He was done talking.

Soltair’s armor erupted in sunlight, nine golden circles blossoming behind his back. His sword shone with such intensity that the shadows vanished, and even the World Shard seemed dim by comparison.

Luke answered with his own aura, darkness spreading across the chamber in a wave. His curses coiled through it, and the marble cracked as their powers pressed against one another.

Then they moved.

I barely followed the first exchange. Soltair’s sword descended in a brilliant arc, unleashing a torrent of sunfire that would have burned a city to ashes. Luke met it head-on, his blade sheathed in curses. The impact shook the chamber, sending a shockwave across the marble floor.

My wards flared, catching the force before it reached me. Behind Soltair, the World Shard hummed, and the eighth-level fortifications trembled beneath the pressure.

Soltair struck again, nine circles aligning behind him. An enormous sun appeared overhead, rippling with the power of a ninth-level spell.

"Divine Sun!" Soltair roared.

The artificial sun collapsed, pouring its entire radiance toward Luke. I flinched, remembering the pain of Sunpurge, but he merely raised his sword.

The light swallowed him, and for an instant, I couldn’t see anything. Then it broke apart, scattering into golden sparks as his curses consumed the remnants. Luke emerged unharmed, his aura barely diminished.

"Impossible!" Soltair cried. "Even with her blessings, you shouldn’t be able to withstand that!"

Luke glanced at the fading sparks. "You still don’t understand what she’s capable of."

He swept his blade forward, and darkness surged across the chamber. Soltair met it with his sword, only to find his sunfire unraveling wherever it touched Luke’s curses. They clashed again, the force of their exchange sending cracks racing across the vaulted ceiling.

I strengthened my wards as debris rained down. If they continued like this, there might not be an Archive left to defend.

Soltair unleashed another ninth-level technique. His sword split into a thousand brilliant blades, each powerful enough to pierce an immortal’s defenses. They converged on Luke from every direction, leaving nowhere to dodge.

But Luke didn’t bother trying. His aura expanded, and the blades shattered as they entered it, their radiance fading into nothingness. He stepped through the remnants and struck Soltair across the breastplate, hurling him through a barricade.

The Sun Hero burst from the wreckage, blood running from the corner of his mouth. His expression darkened, and the nine circles behind him trembled as he gathered more mana.

"How much strength have you stolen from her?" he demanded. "How much of her divinity have you corrupted?"

Luke didn’t answer, moving to finish the exchange.

A sudden rush of mana caught my attention.

Luxara!

She’d remained near the Pope throughout the battle, but now her draconian wings spread wide, and she shot toward me in a blur of silver and gold. I jerked my staff around, summoning a barrier, but the strain on my soul made the spell sluggish.

Her claws struck my outermost ward, piercing through it with a shriek of tearing mana.

"Filthblood!" she snarled.

Luke vanished from Soltair’s reach.

A wall of darkness slammed into Luxara, hurling her across the chamber. She crashed through a marble pillar, sending fragments scattering across the floor.

Luke appeared beside me a heartbeat later, his sword raised and his tail lashing furiously.

"Are you hurt?"

"N-no, I’m fine," I said, watching Luxara struggle from the rubble. Her armor was fractured, but she didn’t look ready to surrender.

Luke nodded, turning his attention back to the others. His eyes flashed, but he didn’t leave immediately, casting a wary look between Soltair and Luxaria. A lump formed in my throat. Me. He couldn’t fight because of me.

Across the chamber, Soltair had already gathered his strength again. The golden circles behind him shone brighter, and I felt the weight of another ninth-level spell beginning to form.

But something else caught my attention.

The elderly mage hadn’t moved throughout the confrontation. While the others fought, he stood beside the World Shard, his eyes closed and his hands hidden within his sleeves. A thin current of mana ran between him and the crystal, so faint I might have missed it if I hadn’t been looking.

What was he doing? Even a ninth-level mage shouldn’t have been able to draw power directly from the World Shard without considerable preparation.

The Pope glanced toward him.

"Is it ready?"

The mage opened his eyes.

"Yes."

Something shifted within the World Shard. Its light contracted, drawing inward until the entire chamber seemed to darken. An unfamiliar pressure brushed against my soul, delicate enough that my wards barely reacted.

A mind spell?

I tried to raise my aura, but the pressure had already slipped through it. Luke stiffened beside me, and across the chamber, Soltair’s golden circles flickered uncertainly.

The Pope raised his staff.

"Then let it begin."