Bryan's Arc

Chapter 17 of 21

Bryan held the index card under the shelf light and read the code again. The letters pointed deeper into the archive, past rows he had not walked yet. He slid the card into his pocket and started down the aisle. The red floor disks dimmed behind him, one by one, as if the path only existed while he moved forward. The path ended at a tall shelf lined with small wooden boxes. One sat pulled forward, moss creeping along its edges, his own initials burned into the lid. Bryan opened it with shaking hands. Inside lay a single record card with a name he knew by heart — his old mentor. The man who had told him he finally stopped painting scared was the same man hunting his work from the shadows. Bryan closed the lid and pressed his palm flat against it. The chase was over. The fight was just beginning. Bryan turned and saw it then — a hollow tree grown into the archive wall, its inside carved into a small workspace. Brushes lined a shelf inside. A half-finished model sat on a low bench, painted in Bryan's own red. His mentor had been working here the whole time, copying him stroke for stroke. Bryan stepped inside, lifted the model, and slid it into the mossy box beside the record card. He would carry both back to the judges himself. He walked out of the hollow tree with the box held tight against his chest. The red disks lit again, leading him back the way he came. Each step felt heavier and clearer at once. He had a name now. He had the proof. The mentor who had shaped him would answer for what he took, and Bryan would stand in front of the judges with the evidence in his hands.