A Banner Torn (Book 1 Complete)

Kaelid:

The heavy oak doors of the Great Library of Highpass City closed behind him with a soft, resonant thud, a sound that seemed to seal him back into the ordinary world, or what passed for it. He stood blinking on the wide stone steps, the sudden clamor of the street a physical blow after the profound, almost sacred stillness of the research room he had just departed. The air outside, thick with the myriad scents of a bustling metropolis, roasted meats and fragrant spices from a nearby stall, the sharp tang of the tanneries downwind, and the underlying musk of too many people living in proximity, felt coarse in his lungs compared to the cool, paper-scented atmosphere he had just left.

He clutched the large, leather-bound journal to his chest. It was surprisingly heavy, its cover smooth and unadorned, yet it felt strangely significant, almost alive, beneath his fingers. For a fleeting moment, as his skin made contact, the leather seemed to warm, to pulse with a faint energy, before settling back into an inanimate coolness. He ran a hand over it again, but the sensation did not repeat. Just the city air, perhaps, or his imagination, still buzzing from the encounter within.

The journal's pages were blank. Utterly, impossibly blank.

He had seen them filled. Moments ago, in that hidden chamber, the script had flowed across the parchment like dark water, intricate drawings and symbols blooming under his gaze. Information about slimes, about energies, about things he was only beginning to grasp. The library, the room itself, had *shown* him. And then, as he'd prepared to leave, as the presence in the room had seemed to withdraw, the pages had wiped themselves clean, the ink receding as if swallowed by the parchment itself, leaving nothing behind but pristine, untouched surfaces.

His mind was a whirlwind, a chaotic dance of wonder and unease. The library wasn't just a building, a repository of books. It was *aware*. It was intelligent. It had communicated with him, gifted him this very journal. But why the vanishing act with its contents? Was it a test of his memory, his understanding? A precaution? Or did the knowledge only manifest within its ancient walls, a secret kept for those who sought it in its heart? Perhaps the library itself controlled when and what he could see. A sense of profound responsibility settled over him, heavy as the journal itself. This was not merely a book, he sensed, but a key, a conduit, a silent promise of future revelations from something ancient, powerful, and utterly alien.

A thrill of discovery, sharp and bright, warred with a knot of apprehension that tightened in his stomach. He had stumbled upon something immense, a secret that resonated with the faint, persistent thrum of the crystal shard warm in his chest where the energy had settled. He wondered, not for the first time, how deeply these strange stones were connected to the hidden currents of the world, and now, to this sentient library. He felt a strange, burgeoning protectiveness towards the blank journal. It was his secret now, his and the library's.

He needed to find Marta and Rannek. The thought was a grounding anchor in the sea of his racing thoughts. He started down the library steps, his legs feeling a little unsteady. The city's vibrant chaos, the shouting vendors, the clatter of iron-shod wheels on cobblestones, the endless stream of faces, usually so overwhelming, now seemed to fade into a muted backdrop. His senses, he realized, felt sharper, more attuned. He noticed the way sunlight caught on a distant rooftop gargoyle, transforming its grotesque features into something momentarily beautiful. He saw the intricate, almost invisible patterns of moss growing between the cobblestones at his feet. It was as if his encounter in the library had peeled back a layer of reality, revealing a world more detailed, more intensely *present*, than he had ever perceived before. He wondered if Rannek, with his own shard, had experienced similar moments of heightened awareness.

He navigated the bustling streets, the journal held securely in the crook of his arm, his mind already rehearsing how he might explain this. How could he convey the sheer strangeness, the undeniable intelligence, of what he had experienced? Rannek, he suspected, would be wide-eyed with wonder. Marta… Marta would be a harder sell. Her pragmatism was a fortress. Yet, she had seen his arm heal. She knew something unusual was at play with them. Perhaps the blank journal, the very impossibility of it, would be the crack in her skepticism.

He found them, as arranged, in the small, sun-dappled courtyard of The Wandering Minstrel, the inn where their caravan was lodged. Rannek was attempting to skip a flat stone across the surface of the central fountain, his efforts resulting in more splashes than skips. Marta sat on a stone bench nearby, meticulously sharpening one of her knives with a whetstone, her movements economical and precise. The late afternoon sun cast long, lazy shadows, and the air was filled with the murmur of other patrons and the distant strains of a lute.

As he approached, Rannek looked up, his face breaking into a grin. "Kaelid! There you are! We were wondering if you'd gotten lost in all those books!"

Marta paused in her sharpening, her gaze sweeping over him, keen and assessing. She noted the large journal he carried, her eyebrow arching slightly, but she said nothing immediately, waiting.

He managed a smile, though it felt a little strained. "Not lost. Just… found something interesting." He held up the journal. "Very interesting."

Before he could elaborate, Rannek bounced over, his earlier excitement returning. He held out his own heartstone crystal, which was now wrapped in brass wire, threaded onto a simple, dark leather thong, hanging around his neck. "Look! After the watching the arena this morning, I found a jeweler. He made this for my stone. What do you think?"

He examined it. The raw crystal, so like his own, looked good against the dark leather. It seemed to focus its inner light. "It looks great, Rannek."

"I was thinking…" Rannek began, his voice suddenly a little hesitant, his eyes earnest. "This stone… it feels important, doesn't it? Like yours. I paid the jewler to make a second necklace for your stone if we bring it by this morning he'll have it done before we leave.

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He was touched by the simple, heartfelt request. It was a simple desire for connection, for a shared symbol of their experiences. He nodded. "I'd like that, Rannek. Very much."

Marta finally spoke, her voice low and even, though he detected an undercurrent of something, perhaps the same melancholy that touched them all with the thought of their imminent departure. "One more day, guys. Then the caravan leaves back to Aldermere. Don't get too attached to this place. There's no way back here after the passes snow in." Her gaze flicked meaningfully to the journal Kaelid held, then back to his face. "Or too reckless with new discoveries."

Her words were a familiar caution, yet he sensed something more in them today, a subtle acknowledgement of the extraordinary things they were encountering. The small courtyard, with its splashing fountain and the scent of inn-yard dust, suddenly felt like a pocket of precarious calm before a new wave of the unknown.

Later that evening, after a simple meal in the inn's common room, the three of them retreated to the small chamber they shared. The sounds of High-pass City, though muted by stone walls and distance, still hummed around them, a constant reminder of the vibrant, sprawling life outside their temporary sanctuary. Rannek was already perched on his cot, fiddling with the new necklace, while Marta meticulously checked her travel pack, ensuring every item was in its place for the journey ahead.

He sat on the edge of his own bed, the heavy journal resting on his lap. He took a deep breath, the moment to speak finally upon him. His voice was hushed, though the door was closed. "Something happened at the library today," he began, the words feeling inadequate to convey the enormity of it. "Something… incredible. It's not just books and shelves, Marta, Rannek. It's… more."

He recounted his experience, starting with the faint pulses of energy that had led him to the almost invisible seam in the wall, the hidden door, and the circular research room beyond. He described the atmosphere, the sense of ancient, watching intelligence, the way books had seemed to offer themselves to him. He spoke of the knowledge about slimes, about energies, that had filled the journal the library had seemingly conjured for him.

"It felt… ancient," his gaze shifting between Rannek's rapt attention and Marta's more guarded, yet undeniably focused expression. "Powerful. But not… not evil, I don't think. Just… aware. And it gave me this." He lifted the journal, then opened it to reveal the smooth, empty expanse of its pages. "There were things in here. Detailed drawings, script I'd never seen but could somehow understand. And now… nothing. It's all gone."

The smooth, empty paper seemed to mock his vivid memories. Rannek leaned closer, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and confusion. "Gone? But… how? Why?"

"I don't know," looking at his friends, a plea for understanding in his eyes. "I don't know if I should be scared by it. It changed the book. Or it controls what I can see in it, when I can see it. I think… I think the library itself is alive."

Marta, who had stopped her packing to listen, finally spoke, her voice thoughtful. "A living library. That's… a considerable claim, Kaelid." She tapped a finger against her chin. "But then, your arm healed in hours. And these stones…" She glanced at Rannek's necklace, then at the pouch he wore. "There's much we don't understand. This city, this journey… it's showing us that the world is far stranger than the stories told in Aldermere."

She looked at the blank journal, then back at him. "This research room you found. Do you think you could find it again?"

Kaelid nodded slowly. "I think so. The way felt… clear. As if it wanted me to find it."

"Then tomorrow," Marta declared, a new decisiveness in her tone, "on our last day, we all pay this library of yours a visit. If it's as aware as you say, perhaps it will deign to show itself, or its secrets, to us as well. And I, for one, have a few questions I'd like to ask a living library."

Rannek practically bounced on his cot. "All of us? Together? To the secret room?"

He felt a surge of relief, mixed with a fresh wave of anticipation. He wasn't alone with this. "Together."

The decision hung in the air, a shared purpose that solidified their bond. The city outside hummed its nightly song, oblivious to the small room where three companions, on the cusp of returning to their quiet lives, prepared to seek out an ancient, sentient mystery one last time.

The next morning, their last in High-pass, dawned clear and crisp, the autumn air carrying a hint of the colder days to come. A nervous, excited energy thrummed between the three of them as they made their way back to the Great Library. The city was already alive with activity, merchants hawking their wares, wagons rumbling over the cobblestones, the general din of urban life a familiar chorus now. But their focus was narrowed, drawn to the imposing, silent edifice that dominated the scholars' quarter.

He led the way, the blank journal tucked securely under his arm. He felt a mix of apprehension and validation. Having Marta and Rannek with him made the prospect of facing the library's intelligence less daunting, yet he also felt the weight of their expectations. What if the door wasn't there? What if the room remained hidden, a one-time fluke? He pushed the doubts aside, focusing on the memory of the path, the subtle sense of guidance he'd felt before.

Rannek, walking beside him, was a bundle of barely contained excitement. His eyes, wide and bright, darted everywhere, taking in the towering shelves that soared into the shadowy heights of the library's main hall, the hushed reverence of the few early patrons, the sheer scale of the place. He peppered him with whispered questions. "Will it really talk to us? What if it doesn't like us? Do you think it knows we have the crystals?"

Marta, on his other side, moved with her customary quiet observation. Her gaze was sharp, analytical, sweeping every archway, every shadowed alcove. She asked fewer questions than Rannek, but they were more pointed. "Did you notice any other markings near the door, Kaelid? Any symbols? Did the air feel different in that corridor?" She was, he realized, treating this as a reconnaissance mission, gathering intelligence before encountering a potentially unknown entity. Her skepticism was still present, a faint line etched between her brows, but it was now overlaid with a pragmatic curiosity, a need to investigate his extraordinary claims firsthand.

The familiar scent of old paper, dried ink, and dust filled his nostrils, but today it seemed to hold a new, deeper secret, a silent invitation. He led them through the labyrinthine corridors, his steps more confident than he felt, until they reached the unassuming stretch of wall he remembered. He pulled out the key the librarian had given him the day before looking along the wall for some sort of keyhole..

For a heart-stopping moment, there was nothing. Just solid wall. Panic flickered in his chest. Had he imagined it all?

Then, with a gentle pulse of energy he felt in the key, the faint outline of the door shimmered into existence, as if the stone itself had exhaled and revealed its hidden passage. It wasn't a grand, magical appearance, more like a subtle shift in perception, as if the door had always been there, waiting for the right touch, the right intention.

Rannek gasped softly. Marta's eyes narrowed, her hand instinctively moving towards the knife at her belt before she consciously relaxed it.

He pushed, and the hidden door swung inward with a barely audible sigh, revealing the dimly lit passage beyond. The air that drifted out was cool, carrying the same faint, metallic tang he remembered.