Nox's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

The library became Nox's base. Not the courthouse—too exposed, too close to the main streets. Here, between walls of rotting books, Nox could study without fear of discovery. The transformation had rules. Rules meant limits. Limits meant weakness. And weakness meant Nox could find whoever did this. Three books lay open on the floor, their pages marked with scraps of torn paper. One described shadow magic as hunger made solid. Another called it punishment for forgotten crimes. The third warned that all transformations required a source—something taken, something given. Nox's tendrils traced the words again and again. If someone had transformed them, that person had paid a cost. Or taken something specific from Nox. Either way, it was a thread to follow. The hunt had direction now. The books mentioned a place where others like Nox might have existed. A memorial stone, carved to show the moment when flesh turned to something else. Nox found it three days later in a small square behind the library. The statue stood taller than a person, its surface showing a figure caught mid-change. One half still looked human. The other half twisted into shapes that hurt to see. Names were carved at the base—twelve of them. Twelve people transformed and lost. Nox knelt before the stone. Their tendrils reached out and touched the cold surface. These people had suffered the same thing. Someone had turned them into monsters too. Nox pulled back and stood. The person who did this had done it before. That meant a pattern. That meant mistakes. That meant Nox could track them down.