Kaelen awoke with a distinct pain in his neck, and when he rolled over, he could feel his stiff muscles resisting like a cat trying to escape a bath.

He didn't know how long he'd slept, but it was already bright outside. Gray light radiated from a crack in between the window shutters, and he could hear busy voices in the courtyard below. Stretching his arms and cursing his back, he slowly sat up and let his bare feet brush against the cold stone. The clarity of the chilling touch fought against the pain that had moved on to the left side of his head, throbbing underneath his skull as he rubbed the sleep out of his tired eyes.

When he got up and saw his image reflected in the small mirror on his dresser, he stiffened. The young man in the mirror looked awful — pale skin, droopy eyes, shaggy hair, and dark patches that sat atop his flaking cheeks like burn marks. As if to check it was really him, his fingers instinctively reached for his whiskery chin. Pensively, he stared at his reflection.

Was he getting sick? Had he eaten something that didn't sit well with him? Or was it just the winter ambience that was being unkind to his complexion?

He ran his fingers down his patchy throat, but their touch felt hollow.

Maybe, he realized, it was just a reaction to all that had happened within the last days, especially the most recent developments. Part of him was still in shock at the revelation that Nyu had killed a Master of the Fateweavers, right under their noses. And to make matters worse, they had been the ones who led the Fateless woman past their defenses. They had trusted Nyu, vouched for Nyu— only for her to stab them in the back, just like Master Oryn.

Right when the owner of the mysterious tome was about to be revealed, her knives had silenced the truth. They'd met her as a violent mercenary, and at some point along the way, they stopped seeing her for who she was: a ruthless murderer, a liar, an enemy.

He still couldn't quite believe that he'd been so oblivious to it this entire time. Now, of course, he thought himself foolish for not suspecting her sooner, and in earnest. His gut feeling had been right from the very first moment he laid eyes on her — but then he'd let emotions cloud his judgment.

It was not even like Nyu had tried to gain their trust. She had acted hostile ever since they first met her, and only recently had she reached a state of indifference in their presence. Still, she wasn't exactly warm, at least not around him, as much as he would've liked her to. But even so, he'd started to consider her a friend — and so her betrayal cut deep like the daggers she carried.

Kaelen sighed.

Apparently, Nyu had fled the Great Library right after her deed was done, presumably to reunite with Malvorn and his troops. And worse yet, Zerath had told him that Nyu even managed to steal back that wretched fate tome from his study. In hindsight, they should've just destroyed it the moment they learned about its evil contents. He'd been in favor of it, but Elara had been holding him back, based on a misguided sense of righteousness. Now, they had been pushed to the edge of destruction because of their hesitation.

A gust of wind rattled the shutters in front of his window.

This entire situation was so convoluted with unfortunate events and regrettable decisions that he was starting to wonder if they could ever recover from it. Until now, the world outside their compound had been caught in a downward spiral, but at least inside the Great Library, there had been hope and optimism. Now, that optimism was gone, just like the Fateless they had once considered a friend. And the path to her people would be shorter than Kaelen liked, with Malvorn's army now practically at their doorstep.

After whatever they had done to Tavira, the Fateless soldiers were now lurking in the woods below the Great Library, past the scrubby fields that sprawled over its landing. Reports of the massacre in Cylion had reached the Great Library through whispered words of those who had lived to tell the tale — they were few in numbers, and fewer still dared to seek out the Fateweavers before the approaching storm that was Malvorn. The terrible news had sent shockwaves through the ranks of their order, spreading desperation and a sense of inevitability. Many of the younger students were in a state of disbelief, wondering how cruelties of such scale could've transpired right in their neighborhood. They didn't know that Master Nerina had been sent to stop all of this in its tracks. They didn't know what kind of man Malvorn was. They were faced with an enemy they barely heard about, and were now supposed to fight to the death.

Kaelen shuddered.

They couldn't see the Fateless soldiers, but they could hear them. The clinking of their weapons and armor, the shouts and whistles as they set up camp and prepared for an attack on their home. It would be a bloodbath — that much Kaelen knew. And he wondered how it could ever come to this.

Massaging his temples, Kaelen turned away from the mirror.

He wedged his tired limbs into his orange robes and sat back down on the bed to put on his shoes, right when he heard a knock at the door.

He sighed.

Kaelen wanted it to be Elara, but he knew it wouldn't be. Ever since Nyu's betrayal, she'd been avoiding him for reasons he couldn't quite understand. They were both hurt, and rightfully so, but Elara chose not to share their grief.

Maybe, Kaelen thought, she was blaming herself for not realizing sooner, just like he did.

Maybe she was questioning her intuition and judgment, which had served her so well all these years.

Maybe she knew more than he and wasn't quite ready to tell him.

Or maybe she was just busy with other things.

Either way, Elara hadn't checked in on him since, and he'd not seen her in the dining hall either, even though he stayed extra long in the hopes of spotting her. Her absence hurt Kaelen even more than Nyu's — they had always been so close, no matter what, sharing what was on their minds ever since they learned to talk. Now, for the first time, it felt like their adamant bond was showing cracks.

"Come in," Kaelen croaked.

Gently, the door slid open, and Master Zerath poked his head in. Kaelen couldn't help but feel disappointed.

"Oh good, you are awake," Zerath murmured and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

Kaelen scowled. "By the looks of it, I should've been hours ago." He nodded at the bright light coming from outside.

Zerath studied him for a moment.

"It would appear your body needed rest — and you are wise to grant it."

A soft smile flashed on his lips, but was already gone when he walked over to a lone chair next to Kaelen's dresser and sat down.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked earnestly.

Kaelen frowned. His first impulse was to just brush off the question as politeness, but then he actually started to consider it.

"Not really," he admitted.

Zerath nodded sympathetically and invited him to elaborate with a subtle gesture of his wrinkled hand.

"I can't believe Nyu was working for Malvorn this entire time. I feel so foolish for not realizing sooner. I could've put an end to it before it ever started," he growled.

Zerath's gentle eyes glanced at him over the edge of his thick glasses. When he spoke, his voice was soft and caring.

"Sometimes the ones closest to us are the hardest to read. Don't blame yourself for giving someone the benefit of the doubt. Don't feel like your compassion was a weakness."

Deep down, Kaelen knew all this, but it still felt good to hear it from someone else.

"We never should've trusted her," Kaelen hissed.

"Probably not," Zerath agreed, "but we can't really choose where our heart places trust."

Kaelen sighed. "I just would've preferred not to put my trust in a ruthless assassin. Because apparently that is all she is."

Zerath lowered his head. "Don't forget that, according to what you told me, she also saved your lives. And she helped you find your way back to us in dire times. There is no telling how things would've played out had she not chosen to help you."

A sour taste filled Kaelen's mouth when he thought back to Morathen and how they never would've made it out of there had it not been for Nyu. Still, she was a betrayer, a deceiver — and that's how he would remember her.

"I still feel foolish."

"And you will for some time," Zerath said and smiled gently.

"We should've just destroyed the tome when we had the chance," Kaelen growled. "Everything that has happened and will happen is our fault."

"Don't blame yourself for showing mercy and kindness. Those are the purest qualities a soul can have."

Kaelan snorted. "Tell that to Elara. I wanted to destroy the tome."

Zerath studied him for a long moment, his face an unreadable mask.

"Well," he finally said, "we can still destroy the tome if we must."

Kaelen grimaced. "Of course, that would be easier if we still had said fate tome."

A hint of bitterness had slipped into his voice.

Zerath nodded pensively. "You are right about that. Unfortunately, she seems to be just as skilled a thief as she is an assassin. And according to Elara, it was not the first time she's stolen from us, either …"

Zerath gave him a meaningful look, and the sudden realization carved through Kaelen's emotional landscape like a plow. Nyu had been the thief in the night — she had been the one who stole that tome from right under his nose. And of course it was her.

Anger clouded his vision with a red haze, and he could feel his fingernails digging into his palms. From the very first moment they met her, she'd been lying to them — about everything. She was never Malvorn's enemy, she was never their friend, and she was never anything other than a deceiver.

The throbbing pain in his head started to grow, sending pulsating waves through his eyeballs. He wanted to find Nyu and express his emotions with the brush of violence. He wanted to make her pay for everything she'd done to them, and potentially would do.

Only, there were a few things that seemed odd, disturbances in his flow of rage. Why had Nyu helped them retrieve the tome? Was she truly that bold, that daring? And why had she not just killed them, or let them get killed? There were plenty of opportunities.

"I see your mind is hard at work," Zerath said quietly. "Don't let your regrets drive you into madness."

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Kaelen sighed and tried to relax his tense muscles. He rolled his head and briefly massaged his neck, then glanced over at Zerath, who was patiently watching him.

"Have you seen Elara?" Kaelen asked wearily.

Zerath's eyes seemed to take on a hint of sadness.

"I have. But I'm afraid she's not in the best state of mind."

"Who is these days?" Kaelen growled.

Zerath smiled without joy. "I'm afraid, Elara might be worse off than you yet."

"How so?" Kaelen asked in genuine surprise.

Zerath picked up his glasses and glanced at him with eyes that were suddenly a lot smaller.

"I'm afraid our dear Elara might have seen more than a friend in Nyu."

"More than a —" Kaelen began, but then broke off.

His mind seemed sluggish and dull — again, he'd been caught off-guard by things that seemed so obvious in hindsight. Again, did a biting pain shoot through his heart, leaving a hurtful streak of betrayal in its wake. It seemed like everyone around him had hidden facets to their personality, and he was too blind to see them.

"She will need a moment to deal with her pain," Zerath continued. "I'm sure she'll open herself up again once she feels ready."

Kaelen swallowed hard and tried to suppress his own emotional turmoil. He wanted to say something in response, but the words got caught in his throat.

Zerath gave him a pitiful look. "I hate to see you two like this. And I can't help but feel responsible for it. I should've protected you better — or, in lack of that, prepared you better."

Kaelen scoffed without sharpness. "I think no one could've prepared us for all this."

Zerath sighed. "Maybe. And I'm afraid this isn't over yet, either."

They both glanced over at the window, as if they could see Malvorn peeking through the shutters.

"Master?" Kaelen asked after a moment of quiet had passed.

"Yes, Kaelen?"

"How was all of this even possible? I mean, if all these people that Malvorn killed had fate tomes in their names, how come no one alerted the order about this inevitable massacre? Surely, one of the Fateweavers recording those fates would've seen the connection."

Zerath nodded pensively.

"You would think so, yes," the old Master murmured, gently stroking his beard. "And yet, here we are. Strange, isn't it?"

He slowly walked over to Kaelen's dresser and leaned his stiff body against it, arms resting on the ledge.

"I told you once that fate gets blurry around those who don't have one — I'm sure an entire army of Fateless would do plenty to disturb the natural order of fate. But even so, I don't think that's the only explanation. Not at a scale like this, with so many lives lost, and so many fates concluded."

He adjusted the golden glasses on the back of his nose and gave Kaelen an intense look.

"The fates of all these poor souls were woven by many different members of our order," he continued in a low voice. "They might've died on the same day, but their births are scattered across the ever-flowing river of time, and so is the creation of their tomes. But I agree — it is most unlikely that no Fateweavers ever noticed. Say, for example, you were weaving the fate of a pair of twins. Wouldn't it be odd that both of them should die on the same day? And then you keep returning to Cylion to record fates, only to always have them find their end at the same time?"

Zerath shook his head.

"No, I don't think that went unnoticed."

"But —" Kaelen began, then paused. "What are you saying, then?"

In the dim light, Zerath seemed to look paler than usual.

"I think our roaming brothers and sisters did report back to the Great Library." He paused, then added, "But I think those reports were ignored."

"What?" Kaelen gasped. "What do you mean ignored?"

A pained smile tugged at Zerath's lips.

"Fateweavers are not perfect, especially not those with power. It could've been hubris, it could've been arrogance. Or … it could've been more than that."

"More?"

Kaelen felt a growing tightness in his chest.

"The last days and weeks have surfaced many questions that we struggle to answer," Zerath said pensively. "And it makes me think that the Fateless must've had help from someone within our order. Someone who led them to that mysterious fate tome. Someone who purposefully ignored the warnings, to distract us from the truth."

Kaelen opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Zerath sighed. "I know this is not what you were hoping to hear."

Kaelen remained quiet and watched a strip of light on his Master's purple robe.

"How are we supposed to fight off Malvorn if we can't even trust our own?" he asked quietly.

Zerath gently pushed himself away from the dresser.

"I agree that we have to get to the bottom of this, and until then, we have to tread carefully. But for now, all we can do is fight off the raging storm that is about to descend upon us. I figure it won't take them long now before they attack us."

"Do you think we can defend against an actual army?" Kaelen asked, his head low.

He thought back to all their training and how it was supposed to prepare them for times like these. And yet, his confidence was fleeting.

"Only time will tell," Zerath said quietly. Then, with a strained smile, he added, "Elder Thornec is overseeing the preparations personally. But with Master Nerina gone …" he trailed off, and the name of their former martial arts teacher hung heavy in the air.

"Well, let's just say Master Nerina would've been of great help in this dark hour."

Kaelen could feel his emotions overwhelming him again.

"Unfortunately," Master Zerath continued, "not many of our brothers and sisters roaming the world have been able to return to us in time."

He stroked his beard and gave Kaelen a pensive look.

"I'm afraid," he concluded, "we stand alone in this fight."

Kaelen noticed tiny muscles twitching around Zerath's eyes. He had to blink twice to convince himself he wasn't imagining things — was his mentor nervous? Kaelen gulped. If that was the case, things were indeed dire, and almost immediately, he could feel desperation fill his own heart like black rot.

"I want to help," he blurted out, and was met with a surprised expression on Zerath's wrinkly face.

"That is admirable," his mentor said, "but unnecessary. I'm sure Elder Thornec and the other Masters have it under control, especially with so many of the older students already helping. Maybe it would be for the best if you stayed here and gathered your strength for the fight to come."

Disappointment washed over Kaelen and mixed with a bouquet of anger and frustration. He felt useless — now and in the past.

"It is my fault. All of it!" he snapped. "I let Nyu get away with the tome in the first place, and I failed to stop her ever since. I have to help."

Zerath studied Kaelen for a long moment, his intelligent eyes trying to read Kaelen's mind. Maybe they succeeded.

"I understand," Zerath finally said.

The old Master sighed and put his glasses back on his wrinkled nose.

"In that case, let's waste no time. I will take you to Elder Thornec."

Kaelen cocked an eyebrow. "Surely you have more important matters to tend to."

Zerath gave him a weary smile.

"Right now, your well-being is the most important matter to me."

#

A sense of urgency filled the air when they walked through the buzzing corridors. Students were scurrying past them, but not like they usually did. They were not wearing their cheerful faces on the way to or from class, or laugh and joke around as they strolled through the hallways with light hearts and bright eyes — instead, those eyes were now filled with fear and anxiety, and the understanding that something terrible was about to happen. No one laughed, and few people even spoke. Everyone seemed to be going somewhere in a hurry, preparing this or that for the storm that was to come. When they saw Zerath, some of the students looked up at him with pleading eyes, hoping he could wake them up from this nightmare or have words of encouragement to share. But the old Master only had weak smiles to offer, none of them convincing.

When they reached the main entrance hall, they saw a group of older students handing out staves and other weapons to anyone with an empty hand, and a young woman was showing others how to put on protective armor under their robes. Fateweavers never wore heavy armor, but only padded vests made from thick leather — they were lighter than metal armor, and more practical to wear, but couldn't withstand a sharp blade.

A sickening feeling filled Kaelen's stomach when he saw the boy Nyu had fought put on one of the vests, and he imagined how easily the Fateless would deal with him, just like Nyu had. They would show no mercy, and they would kill every single one of them given the chance. Soon, rivers of blood would run down the two massive staircases that led down to the entry portal, and it would be his fault.

Both wings of the large door stood open, and a cold breeze was rushing in, making the tender flames of the chandeliers and candelabras tremble anxiously. Remaining under the cover of the stone outcropping that was home to a group of statues, Kaelen and Zerath watched over the busy courtyard, where dozens of students and Masters were coordinating the preparations. Among them was Elder Thornec, marching through the ranks in his crimson robe, carrying a mace with a staff-like handle in his bulging fist. When he saw them, he made his way over in a straight line, and everyone in his path quickly stepped aside.

"Zerath!" Thornec called out in acknowledgement and nodded harshly. "I'm surprised to see you down here with the foot soldiers. I thought you were still trying to find the answers to all our problems in those books of yours."

Zerath smiled patiently. "It is always worth exploring avenues that don't include violence."

Thornec scoffed. "You might be running out of time there. Soon, we'll have to use your books as projectiles against the enemies that are about to climb our walls."

"That would be most unfortunate."

"Nothing about this is fortunate," Thornec growled, and his expression soured.

"Perhaps," Zerath agreed. "But at least the armies of Cylion are not fighting on their side, as we'd feared."

Thornec snorted. "That's one way of looking at it, I suppose."

"In any case, our walls are strong," Zerath continued. "Breaching or climbing them will come at great cost."

"They seem to have the numbers to accept some calculated losses," Thornec grunted and tightened the grip around his weapon.

Then, he finally acknowledged Kaelen's presence.

"What is this one doing here?" he asked Zerath. "Is he here to tell me he's sorry for bringing a traitor into our midst? The very one that is destined to destroy us all?"

Zerath glanced at Kaelen.

"I want to help," Kaelen said firmly. "I know I have failed the order in the past, but I want to set things right."

"Of what help could you possibly be, boy?" the Elder snarled, and his amber eyes fixated on Kaelen with fierce intent.

"I —" he stammered, but Thornec didn't even care for proposals.

"I think you and your family have done plenty," the Elder rasped under his breath. "Dor gold is financing this madness — every weapon and pike that will be used to slay our brothers and sisters will come as a courtesy of Vaelorian Dor. But at least every drop of blood spilled will tarnish that pretty legacy of yours. Finally, people will see your kind for what they truly are — greedy and egotistical. If any one of us survives to tell the tale, that is."

Kaelen stared at him, speechless.

"Do us all a favor and just try not to cause any further havoc," the Elder continued. "If there is a future for our order, it might have a place for you yet — the kitchens are always understaffed these days."

And with that, he brushed past Kaelen and gestured for an orange-robed woman to hurry over.

"Make sure all students age fourteen or younger are hiding in the tunnels and crypts once the fighting starts," he barked at the yellow-haired Fateweaver.

"What about the ones older than fourteen?" she quavered.

Thornec stopped abruptly and glared at her with increasing impatience.

"What do you think?" he roared. "They will fight, and they better fight well, lest the students in the crypts won't be safe either."

She nodded stiffly and rushed off, while Thornec continued his march through the courtyard, leaving Kaelen standing in the doorway like a misplaced statue.

As he watched Thornec carve through the chaos, a light rain started to trickle onto the cold cobblestones. Unfazed by the moody weather, the Elder kept shouting orders that echoed through the courtyard, and Fateweavers of all ages kept scrambling at his command, carrying around weapons and armor plates, provisions, and ammunition.

Kaelen could see their concerned faces — many of them had never seen a real fight, not to mention a fight to the death, as this most likely would be. Not long ago, he would've been just as terrified as they. Of course, he was still nervous all the same, but at least he already knew what true desperation felt like, and against all odds, he had endured it.

"Elder Thornec is on the edge, like all of us are," a gentle voice said.

To Kaelen's surprise, Zerath was still standing right behind him, and he didn't seem to have any intention of going somewhere else.

"He is right, though," Kaelen said drearily.

"You are not your father," Zerath said encouragingly. "And you only ever tried to do what you thought was best. I see no fault in that, and no blame to place."

"The Elder seems to have a different stance on that."

Zerath smiled softly.

"He does. But that doesn't mean he's right."

They fell silent for a long while, watching the commotion in the courtyard. The rain was picking up, and jets of water were shooting down from the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. Soon, the dry ground turned into a muddy mess, and the students had to trudge through deep puddles on their many errands.

"The waiting is the worst part," Kaelen whispered, and his words got swallowed by the cascading rain.

"That it is," Zerath agreed quietly, "that it is."

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