Lyrian Ashenbark's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

Lyrian reached the archive by midday. Moss draped the stone arches. Inside, shelves held weathered scrolls and books bound in cracked leather. Her boots scraped on the flagstones. She moved fast, hunting any record of marks like hers. A stone chest sat against the back wall, half hidden under green fuzz. She brushed the moss away and lifted the lid. Inside lay scrolls and a flat stone tablet, its surface cut with thin, careful symbols. Her heart kicked. She carried the tablet to the light. The script was nothing she knew. The letters curled and forked like roots. She traced one with her finger, then another. None of it matched any tongue she had been taught. She set the tablet down and pressed her palms to her eyes. She would not leave. She found a stub of chalk in a cracked jar and started copying the symbols onto a bare stone wall. Hours passed. The wall filled with marks, guesses, crossed-out tries. She grouped shapes that repeated. She circled ones that looked like the curls on her own arm. Nothing held together. The script stayed locked. Lyrian sat back against the cold stone. The tablet rested at her feet, silent. She had the records now. She could not read a single word. Whatever truth waited here, she needed someone who knew this script — and the archive was empty of living voices.