Chapter 254: Threads of Time
[The Divine Temple—Library—Lavinia’s POV]
I had changed into a flowing white gown, the fabric soft against my skin, glowing faintly under the temple’s stained glass light. The High Priest inclined deeply.
"Then I shall leave you, Your Highness," he said, voice respectful.
I nodded once, crisp. "Very well. Thank you, High Priest Eamon."
He smiled faintly and then quietly retreated, the echo of his footsteps fading into the library’s solemn hush.
I turned to Sera.
She smiled, saying, "I shall wait here. Take your time—there’s no rush."
I smiled softly. "Thank you, Sera."
She nodded and swept toward the door, Solena soaring above her in a graceful arc, feathers glinting like sunlight on steel. Marshi padded silently behind, tail swishing in a rhythm that made the air seem almost alive.
Just as they reached the threshold, Marshi stopped. His eyes locked on me, unblinking, almost worrying, and a shiver ran down my spine. Then, with a soft huff, he turned and followed Sera, his massive paws silent on the marble floor.
My heart thudded, heavier than usual. The library door loomed before me, massive and ancient. With a deep, measured breath, I placed my hand on the cold wood.
And pulled.
The hinges groaned, the air shifted, and I stepped into a hall of silence and secrets, where every breath felt like trespassing into eternity.
***
[Inside the Divine Library—Seconds Later]
As I stepped inside, the library seemed to exhale, its ancient breath brushing my skin. Endless rows of vellum and parchment stretched in all directions, like a forest of silent, watchful trees. Each shelf hummed softly, as if the books themselves were alive, aware of every heartbeat in the hall.
Light poured through stained glass, scattering fragments of blue and gold across the marble floors. Shadows trembled in their glow, quivering like secrets waiting to be whispered. I could feel it—the pulse of the ages, the weight of knowledge older than empires, older than even the gods.
I wandered slowly, letting my fingers trail along the spines, each touch sending faint sparks of energy crawling up my arm. Rusted, leather-bound tomes, cracked with age, called to me in low whispers.
"Wow..." I murmured, breath catching. "They’re... so old... seriously, do they ever dust these things?"
The books didn’t answer, but the faint hum made it feel like they judged me.
And then I remembered. This temple had stood long before the empire formed. These books weren’t just records—they were witnesses. Guardians. Keepers of every story, every secret, every life that had passed through history’s turning pages.
I pulled one particularly worn tome from the shelf and read its title: The Day the Empire Formed.
I opened it carefully, muttering to myself, "So... this is the first history book? Huh."
The pages smelled of dust and magic, faintly of iron and candle wax, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. Around me, the library seemed to lean closer, listening, as if it knew I would ask more than just trivial questions.
My gaze caught a glimmer—golden wooden shelves tucked into a shadowed corner, their polish gleaming as if lit from within. Drawn to them, I walked closer. Each step felt deliberate, almost sacred, and the air itself seemed to thrum with expectancy.
Among the shelves, one book stood out. Its cover was smooth and golden-brown, with no title—only a single embossed number: ONE.
Curious, I pulled it out. The leather was warm under my fingers, alive somehow, and the second I opened it, a faint glow emanated from the pages, illuminating my face.
The words shimmered: "The First Emperor of Elorian..."
My eyes widened. "Oh..." I breathed, almost reverently. "...it’s about the first emperor?"
The book trembled lightly in my hands, as if eager to reveal its secrets. Curiosity prickled at my skin. I opened it fully—and the title on the first page was astonishingly simple:
EMPEROR HADREIN VALERITH DEVEREUX.
I blinked. "...A diary?"
Turning the second page, my breath caught. Every word was handwritten, inked with care and precision. Nothing printed, nothing mass-produced—just the personal musings of someone who had lived every moment.
"Today, Hadrein found something... a beast. But it was no ordinary beast. It was a Rakshar, and a divine beast at that."
I murmured under my breath, "Written by someone very close to him... probably a confidant, or maybe a servant who was too nosy for their own good."
I kept reading, and soon the diary became... strangely entertaining. There were accounts of the first emperor taking the throne, his petty moods, his whims, his temper, and even silly mistakes that no one would dare record otherwise. I chuckled softly, picturing the great Hadrein throwing a tantrum over a misaligned throne cushion.
Then—my eyes caught a line that made my heart skip.
"The emperor has found a girl... she looks exactly like him. How is that possible? Hadrein has never married, never had an affair."
I frowned, leaning closer. "Wait... what? That’s impossible. Who is she?"
Turning the page, I was met with another revelation.
"That idiot Hadrein... he killed those nobles without hesitation for opposing the adoption. I really can’t with his temper."
I snorted, muttering, "Yep... whoever wrote this must have been way too close to him. Probably saw everything—from tantrums to murders."
Page after page, I read, my amusement mixing with awe. Then came a passage that made me stop cold:
"Today we discovered that Princess Lilith was Hadrein’s dead sister’s child. We thought she had perished, but before her death, she gave birth to a girl, whom we found at an orphanage."
I whispered, heart hammering. "Oh... so she was his niece?"
And then—one line made the world tilt.
"Princess Lilith was assassinated. Haldor has lost his sanity.
And then—one line made the world tilt.
"Princess Lilith was assassinated. Haldor has lost his sanity—he has killed all the knights, guards, and even some nobles."
I froze. My heart thudded painfully in my chest. If Princess Lilith is dead... then how is the line of Devereux still running?
I turned the page, hands trembling. My eyes widened with shock as I read the next passage:
"Today we discovered something... a power of Rakshar. Rakshar has the ability to reverse time. The Supreme Archmage is here, advising us that he can use Rakshar’s power to turn back time. But how... how is that even possible? I am not certain... yet I hope he manages it. Otherwise... this will be the end of Devereux."
A cold shiver ran down my spine. The words seemed to hum with power, the library itself leaning in closer.
I staggered back slightly, gripping the book as if it might slip through my fingers. "What... what does this even mean?" I muttered, voice trembling. "Princess Lilith... dead? And... Rakshar can... reverse time?"
A shiver ran down my spine as a memory surfaced—the old book I had read about Rakshar’s power. It had said that Rakshar could rewrite the thread of fate itself.
Damn it! Was I too dumb to understand that?
. . .
. . .
So... Marshi has the power to turn time?
The thought made my chest tighten with disbelief—and a strange, thrilling possibility. Curiosity overpowered my fear. I turned the page, eager for answers...
But it was blank. Completely blank. Not a word, not a mark—nothing.
I swallowed hard, pulse hammering. My fingers traced the empty page, desperate, as if touching the blank parchment could summon the missing words.
"Impossible," I whispered to no one, voice brittle. "There has to be more. If Princess Lilith returned... if the timeline was changed... there must be a record somewhere... a trace, a clue... anything."
I rose slowly, scanning the golden shelves, eyes darting from spine to spine. Dust motes danced in the colored light, sparkling like tiny stars, yet the silence of the library pressed against me, thick and heavy, as if guarding its secrets.
"There must be a record of her?" I muttered, desperation creeping into my voice. My hands clutched the diary tighter, as if squeezing it would squeeze answers from the past.
Each book seemed to whisper faintly, as if teasing me—some knowing, some laughing silently at my persistence. My heart pounded harder. I had to find it. I had to know the truth.
The empty page only fueled my obsession. I leaned closer to the shelves, running my fingers along every spine, listening to the soft hum of magic in the air, feeling it pulse in rhythm with my own heartbeat.
This was no longer just curiosity. It was a hunt. And I would not leave this library until I found the answers.
Then... I found it.
A book, unassuming yet radiant, tucked behind a row of golden tomes. Diary No: TWO.
My chest tightened. My heartbeat thundered in my ears as I pulled it free. The leather cover was warm, alive with quiet magic, and as I opened it, the air seemed to hold its breath with me.
And there, written in bold, almost defiant letters, was a name:
LILITH DEVEREUX.
I froze, staring at the page. My lips barely moved as I whispered, "So... she really returned?"
The ink seemed to shimmer under my gaze, pulsing faintly, as if confirming the impossible. My mind raced, heart hammering.
"The first emperor... reversed time?" I breathed, disbelief and awe mingling in my voice. "...He actually did it."