A Banner Torn (Book 1 Complete)

Kaelid:

Taking a breath, he ascended the steps, pushing open one of the heavy bronze doors. The interior was even more impressive than the facade. A vast entrance hall soared upward, the ceiling lost in shadow far above. Polished marble floors reflected the light filtering through high windows. Bookshelves lined the walls, stretching higher than he could see, filled with countless volumes.

The air inside was cool and hushed, a stark contrast to the noisy street outside. The scent of old paper, leather bindings, and beeswax polish filled his senses. And the energy… it was palpable here, it seemed to hum in the very stones of the building watchful, as if the library itself held its breath..

As he stepped further into the hall, something remarkable happened. Ornate sconces mounted on the walls, previously emitting only a dim glow, flared brighter as he approached. The light wasn't harsh, but warm and welcoming, illuminating the path before him. He stopped, startled, and the light dimmed slightly. He took another step, and it brightened again. It was reacting to him.

He looked around, but the few other patrons in the hall seemed oblivious, engrossed in their own pursuits. No one else appeared to notice the responsive lighting. Was this normal? Or was it another manifestation of the strange connection he carried?

Deciding not to dwell on it, he continued toward a large, ornately carved desk positioned centrally in the hall. Behind it sat a woman with silver hair pulled back severely from a sharp-featured face. Spectacles perched on her nose, and she was engrossed in examining a large, leather-bound tome.

The sconces near the desk glowed noticeably brighter as Kaelid approached, casting his shadow long across the polished floor. The librarian looked up, her gaze sharp and appraising behind her spectacles.

"Can I help you, young man?" Her voice was crisp, carrying easily in the quiet hall.

He suddenly felt awkward and out of place. He wasn't even sure what he should ask. "I… I was hoping to find some books," he stammered.

"This is a library," she replied dryly, a hint of impatience in her tone. "We specialize in books. What subject interests you?"

"Slimes," he blurted out, then immediately regretted his bluntness.

The librarian raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Slimes? An unusual topic for a boy your age. Most prefer tales of knights or dragons."

"I heard stories," he improvised, remembering his earlier thought. "From soldiers returning from the eastern campaigns. They mentioned… creatures made of ooze. I was curious."

Her expression softened slightly, though her gaze remained sharp. "Ah, the eastern marshes. Yes, tales of gelatinous horrors do occasionally reach us from that region. Nasty things, from all accounts. Mindless eating machines that dissolve flesh on contact."

He thought of Curio, playful and intelligent, capable of complex communication. Mindless? Dissolve flesh? It didn't match his experience at all.

"Are there books about them?" he pressed.

"Little reliable information exists," the librarian admitted. "They are creatures of the wild, far removed from civilized lands. What little we know comes from fragmented reports of travelers or soldiers, often exaggerated for dramatic effect." She gestured toward an arched doorway leading off the main hall. "Our collection of bestiaries is through there, third aisle on the left. You might find some mention, but I wouldn't expect detailed accounts."

"Thank you," he said, grateful for the direction.

"When you are finished," she added, returning her attention to her tome, "place the book on one of the designated return tables. The library will see it restored to its proper place."

"The library will restore it?" Kaelid asked, confused.

She looked up again, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "An enchantment woven into the building itself. Ancient, powerful, and poorly understood. It simply works. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Dismissed, he headed toward the indicated doorway, the sconces dutifully brightening his path and dimming behind him. An enchanted library that returned its own books? And reacted to his presence? The city was proving even stranger than he had imagined.

He found the bestiary section easily enough, a quiet alcove filled with tall shelves packed tightly with books of varying sizes and ages. The air here smelled even more strongly of old paper and dust. He ran his fingers along the spines, reading titles that promised knowledge of griffins, manticores, basilisks, and countless other creatures both mundane and mythical.

He located several volumes dedicated to monstrous creatures and carried them to a nearby reading table, the heavy books surprisingly cumbersome for their size. Settling into a sturdy wooden chair, he opened the first volume, a thick tome bound in cracked leather titled "Denizens of the Dark Places."

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

He scanned the index, searching for any mention of slimes, oozes, or gelatinous creatures. He found a brief entry under "Marsh Slimes, Greater and Lesser." Eagerly, he turned to the indicated page.

The description was disappointingly brief and dismissive. It spoke of mindless, amorphous blobs found in stagnant swamps, dangerous only due to their corrosive touch and tendency to engulf unwary travelers. Illustrations depicted shapeless green puddles with menacing, empty eyes, nothing like the curious, intelligent entity he knew as Curio.

"Mindless eating machines," the text echoed the librarian's words. "Driven solely by instinct to consume organic matter. Possess no discernible intelligence or social structure."

Kaelid frowned, flipping through the other volumes. The information was largely the same, varying only slightly in detail or the degree of lurid description. One book mentioned rumors of larger, more organized slime colonies deep within uncharted territories, but dismissed these as unlikely exaggerations. Another speculated briefly on their origins, suggesting they might be magical accidents or corrupted forms of elemental life, but offered no evidence.

Nowhere did he find any mention of communication, intelligence, playfulness, or the complex relationship with stone and energy that he had witnessed. The books portrayed slimes as simple monsters, threats to be avoided or destroyed, not creatures capable of thought or connection.

Frustration grew within him. How could the official records be so wrong? Had no one ever truly tried to understand these creatures? Or was Curio somehow unique, an exception to the rule? He thought of the Petrakahrn, also dismissed as myths by the librarian. Perhaps the world held more secrets than scholars were willing to admit.

He spent over an hour poring over the books, searching for any scrap of information that resonated with his experience, but found nothing. The pulse energy he sensed seemed slightly muted in this alcove, the shimmering lines less distinct, as if the sheer weight of accumulated knowledge dampened the ambient flow.

As he gathered the books to return them, he glanced back toward the main hall. He could see the librarian at her desk, though she was partially obscured by a bookshelf. He noticed her looking in his direction, her gaze not on him, but on the sconces along the wall leading to his alcove. Even from this distance, he could see them glowing slightly brighter than those in other parts of the hall. She watched them for a long moment, her expression unreadable, before turning back to her work.

The observation made him uneasy. She knew something was unusual about him, even if she didn't understand what. He quickly gathered the heavy bestiaries, deciding it was time to leave.

Remembering the librarian's instructions, he looked for a designated return table. He spotted one near the entrance to the bestiary section, a simple wooden table with a slightly raised edge and intricate carvings along its sides. Several other patrons had left books there, which sat waiting for the library's mysterious enchantment to whisk them away.

As he approached the table, the pulse energy flared noticeably. The shimmering lines he perceived converged on the table, seeming to draw energy from the floor and surrounding air, swirling around it.

The energy intensified, the lines flowing not just around the table, but into the carvings, seeming to connect deep within the wood and stone. He leaned closer, fascinated. The carvings depicted stylized waves and knots, patterns that seemed to writhe with the energy flowing through them.

He could almost hear the hum now, a low, resonant frequency that seemed to originate from the table itself. The patterns of light shifted and changed, pulsing in time with the city's heartbeat he had sensed earlier. It was mesmerizing, drawing him in.

Without conscious thought, driven by a curiosity that outweighed his caution, Kaelid reached out a finger and traced one of the carved patterns. The wood felt cool beneath his touch, but vibrated with the energy flowing within.

The moment his skin made contact, the hum intensified, and a voice echoed directly inside his mind. It wasn't spoken aloud, but resonated within his thoughts, clear and distinct despite its whispery quality.

Who are you? The voice was ancient, genderless, filled with a dry, rustling quality like turning pages. How are you connected? You feel… You see... me… Unusual.

He snatched his hand back as if burned, stumbling away from the table. His heart hammered against his ribs, and his breath caught in his throat. A voice? Inside his head? From a table?

He stared at the carvings, half expecting them to move or speak again. But the table remained inert, the energy pulses continuing their swirling dance, seemingly undisturbed by the contact.

'Did I imagine it?' The thought felt frantic. But the voice had been too clear, too distinct. It wasn't his own thought.

He watched the table, his fear slowly giving way to bewildered curiosity. The voice had asked how he was connected. Connected to what? The table? The library? The energy itself?

As he watched, the pattern of the energy pulses shifted. They still flowed into the carvings, but now they also seemed to be directing themselves away from the table, flowing in synchronized waves along the floor and walls down the main hall, converging on a specific point further down.

Kaelid followed the flow with his eyes. The waves of light and energy moved purposefully, like a river finding its course, leading toward a tall, narrow door set into the far wall of the entrance hall. It was a door he hadn't noticed before, plain and unadorned compared to the library's other grand entrances, almost hidden in the shadows.

The energy flowed directly toward it, pooling around the frame before seeming to seep into the stone and wood beneath the door itself.

*What's behind that door?* The question echoed in his mind, this time his own. The voice from the table, the reacting sconces, the pulsing energy leading to a hidden door… it all felt connected. Connected to him, somehow.

He looked back at the librarian's desk. She was still engrossed in her book, seemingly unaware of his discovery or the energy flow he perceived. The few other patrons remained oblivious.

He was alone with this mystery. The energy pulsed invitingly, a silent summons toward the hidden door. Part of him screamed caution, warning him away from forces he didn't understand. But another part, the part awakened by the crystal shard, the part that craved knowledge and understanding, urged him forward.

The voice had asked who he was, how he was connected. Perhaps the answer lay beyond that door.

Taking a steadying breath, Kaelid made his decision. He turned away from the return table and began walking, following the waves of energy toward the shadowed doorway at the far end of the hall.