Hero Of Broken History

Avian's POV

The Academy's library at three in the morning was a cathedral of shadows and dust motes, moonlight filtering through stained glass windows that depicted sanitized versions of history. Saints who never existed performing miracles that never happened, all rendered in colors that bled across marble floors like spilled lies.

Avian moved between the towering shelves, his footsteps silent on carpet that had absorbed centuries of whispered secrets. The genealogy section occupied the entire third floor—endless rows of birth records, death certificates, and family trees that branched like nervous systems through the Empire's history.

Seren Lyselle. Junior historian. Obsessed with truth.

He pulled another volume from the shelf, its leather binding cracking with age. The Lyselle family registry, updated yearly until... one week ago. The final entry was still fresh, ink barely dry: "Estate destroyed in cleansing fire. Heretical materials discovered. Family whereabouts unknown."

Unknown. Not dead, which meant the Church hadn't found bodies. Or hadn't found all of them.

"You're not very subtle for someone trying to be stealthy."

Avian didn't turn. He'd sensed Kai approaching two minutes ago—shadow techniques were impressive, but they still displaced air. "Wasn't trying to be stealthy. Was trying to research."

"At three in the morning. In the restricted section. Without permission." Kai materialized from between two shelves, moving with the liquid grace three years of training had given him. "That's basically the definition of stealth."

"It's the definition of avoiding bureaucracy." Avian closed the registry, filing the information away. "Did you find anything?"

"Besides you breaking into the library?" Kai produced a rolled broadsheet from his coat—another copy of that morning's article, but this one had markings. Red ink circled specific words, connecting them with lines like a conspiracy theorist's web. "The distribution pattern is interesting. Look."

He spread it on a reading table, and Avian saw what his friend meant. The circles marked printer's marks—tiny imperfections that identified which press had produced each copy. Kai had somehow gathered dozens of versions, mapping their origins.

"Seven different printing houses," Kai explained, finger tracing the connections. "All produced within the same two-hour window. Before dawn, when the watch changes shifts. Someone coordinated this perfectly."

"Or several someones."

"No." Kai shook his head. "The writing style is consistent. Same person, same mind behind it. But they have help. A network." He paused, then added quietly, "The Underground is involved."

Avian looked up sharply. "The Academy Underground? The place students are explicitly forbidden from entering?"

"The very same. I tracked three delivery boys back to the same entrance—the one behind the old dueling hall. They were carrying printing supplies. Ink, paper, the kind of materials you'd need for mass production."

She's not there herself. Too smart for that. But someone's printing copies locally. She must have found help - a network with reach.

"There's more," Kai continued, pulling out a different paper. This one was a Church notice, officially sealed. "Bounty's up to twenty-five thousand gold. They're taking this seriously."

"They're panicking." Avian studied the notice. The language was aggressive, desperate. Words like "immediate capture" and "extreme measures authorized" didn't suggest confidence. "The article hit nerves they didn't know they had."

"Speaking of nerves..." Kai glanced around, confirming they were alone. "I had an interesting conversation today. With a representative of the Empire's intelligence division."

Avian kept his expression neutral. "Oh?"

"They want me to report on the situation. Keep them informed about the Church's response, student reactions, that sort of thing." Kai's smile was razor-thin. "They also strongly suggested I maintain my friendship with the Veritas heir. Said it could be very beneficial for my family's standing."

"And?"

"And I told them I'd consider it." Kai met his eyes directly. "But I thought you should know. They're watching this situation. The Empire smells blood in the water—Church authority being questioned, students doubting official history. They see opportunity."

Everyone has an angle. At least Kai's honest about his.

"What will you tell them?"

"Depends. Are we actually going into the Underground to find whoever's doing this?"

Avian was quiet for a moment, listening to the library's ancient silence. Somewhere in the building, floorboards creaked—night custodian, third floor, moving away from them. Outside, wind rattled windows that had watched five centuries of students discover dangerous truths.

"She's going to get herself killed," he said finally. "The Church doesn't tolerate this level of defiance. They'll make an example of her."

"That's not an answer."

"We need to find who's distributing these locally. Cut the Academy connection." Avian turned from the window. "The Underground is the only place the Church can't freely search without Academy permission. Whoever's printing there is protected by ancient academic law."

"So we're going in?"

"Yes. But not tonight. Too soon after the article drop. The Underground will be on alert, expecting Church investigation. We wait two days, let things calm slightly."

"And in the meantime?"

"In the meantime, we prepare. Map the entrances, gather supplies, figure out exactly what we're walking into." Avian moved toward the library's exit, Kai falling into step beside him. "And you tell the Empire exactly what they want to hear—that the situation is developing, you're monitoring it, and you'll have actionable intelligence soon."

"Playing all sides?"

"Playing the only side that matters—ours."

They descended the marble stairs in silence, each footstep echoing in the vast space. The library's main floor stretched before them, reading tables like islands in a sea of knowledge. Moonlight turned everything silver and shadow.

"There's something else," Kai said as they reached the exit. "Leontis was in the tavern tonight, performing his usual theatrical nonsense. But he quoted something—a line about 'the commander who held the Eastern line with nothing but will and fury.' It's word for word from today's article."

Avian frowned. "Coincidence?"

"Maybe. But he had this look afterward. Like he'd surprised himself. That Resonance Codex he found—what if it contains more than just sound magic?"

What if it contains memories?

"Watch him," Avian said. "Carefully. If he knows something—"

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The library doors burst open.

Three figures in white robes stood silhouetted against the night, their masks reflecting moonlight like fractured mirrors. Church Shepherds. The same ones from yesterday's cafeteria visit, but their posture had changed. Yesterday they'd been investigating. Tonight, they were hunting.

"Lord Veritas." The lead Shepherd's voice was silk over steel. "Interesting hour for academic pursuits."

"I have chronic insomnia," Avian said mildly. "Reading helps."

"Indeed? And what were you reading?" The Shepherd stepped forward, and the temperature seemed to drop. "Historical texts, perhaps? Genealogies? Research into certain... departed families?"

They know. Of course they know.

"Architecture, actually." Avian pulled a random book from Kai's bag—turned out to be "Principles of Structural Engineering." "The Academy's building techniques are fascinating."

"How wonderful. A heir interested in construction rather than destruction." The Shepherd's mask turned toward Kai. "And you, Mr. Kai? Also suffering from insomnia?"

"It's contagious, apparently."

"Amusing." The Shepherd moved closer, close enough that Avian could smell incense and iron—prayer and blood, the Church's signature scent. "You should know, Lord Veritas, that we've noticed your interest in certain topics. Certain people. It would be unfortunate if that interest was misinterpreted."

"Misinterpreted?" Avian's tone dripped false concern. "Why, I'm just as eager as you to stop whoever's spreading all this... information."

The Shepherd went perfectly still. "Information? Not misinformation?"

The word hung in the air like a confession. Avian smiled—not his polite noble smile, but something sharper.

"Did I say information? How careless of me." His voice was pure silk over steel. "Though we both know what we're really trying to stop, don't we? The only difference is, you want it buried forever. Some of us might have... different timelines in mind."

"Careful, Lord Veritas." The Shepherd's hand moved to their belt, where a silver blade hung. "That almost sounds like sympathy for heretics."

"Sympathy? No. Just an appreciation for accurate historical documentation." Avian's smile widened. "Purely academic interest, you understand. After all, the Church values truth above all else, doesn't it?"

The sarcasm was thick enough to choke on. The Shepherd's mask tilted, and even through the porcelain, Avian could feel their rage.

"The Church defines truth, boy."

"How convenient for the Church."

For a moment, violence hung in the air like morning mist. Then the Shepherd stepped back, movements controlled but trembling with suppressed fury.

"Enjoy your architecture studies, Lord Veritas. And do remember—even heirs can burn. Especially clever ones who think they're untouchable."

They left as suddenly as they'd arrived, white robes disappearing into the night like smoke reversing itself. Avian and Kai stood in the library doorway, processing what had just happened.

"They're not just investigating," Kai said quietly. "They're actively hunting."

"And they think I'm involved." Avian started walking, needing movement to think. "They can't prove anything, but they suspect."

"Which means they'll be watching you."

"Let them watch." Avian's smile was sharp as winter moonlight. "They'll see exactly what I want them to see—a heir concerned about dangerous articles, trying to find the source to protect Academy stability."

"While actually finding the distributors to—what? Tell them to stop?"

"To find out who's behind this network. Who has the resources to coordinate seven printing houses across the Empire? Who has the connections to embed distributors in the Academy Underground?" Avian's mind raced through possibilities. "Seren's a historian, not a revolutionary. Someone else is running this operation."

They reached the dormitory complex, its windows glowing with the warm light of students pulling all-nighters. Normal Academy life, unaware that war had been declared in ink and shadow.

"Two days," Kai said as they prepared to part ways. "Then we go Underground."

"Two days," Avian agreed. "In the meantime—"

A scream split the night.

They ran toward the sound, finding a crowd gathering near the Western Fountain. Students in nightclothes, faces pale with shock. At the fountain's center, floating face-down in water that had turned pink with diluted blood, was a body.

Avian pushed through the crowd, Kai beside him. The body wore student robes, Third Year pins still attached. Male, young, maybe eighteen. His back showed burns—the distinctive pattern of holy fire.

"Who is it?" someone whispered.

"Damien Winters," another answered. "He was in my Political Theory class."

"What happened to him?"

Avian knew. The positioning, the burns, the public display—this was a message. He'd probably been caught with an article, maybe asked too many questions, maybe just looked at a Shepherd wrong.

"Divine justice," a cold voice said.

The crowd parted. The Lightbringer Captain stood at the fountain's edge, armor gleaming despite the darkness. Avian hadn't seen him arrive—one moment empty space, the next solid presence like reality had hiccupped.

"This student was found distributing heretical materials," the Captain announced, voice carrying across the courtyard. "He chose lies over truth. Chaos over order. This is the consequence."

"On Academy grounds?" Avian stepped forward, voice cutting through the night. "You execute students on Academy grounds without trial, without Academy authority?"

The Captain's helm turned toward him. "The Church's authority supersedes—"

"Nothing supersedes Academy law on Academy grounds." A new voice, ancient and unyielding.

Dean Aldrich materialized from the shadows—not stepped from them, but seemed to congeal from darkness itself into solid form. He was old in the way mountains were old, with eyes that had seen empires rise and fall. His robes were simple black, but power radiated from him like heat from a forge.

"Dean Aldrich." The Lightbringer Captain's voice held a note of... not fear, but caution. "This heretic was spreading—"

"This student," the Dean corrected, moving toward the fountain with measured steps, "was under Academy protection. As are all students within these walls."

He knelt beside the fountain, placing one weathered hand on the water's surface. The pink began to fade, blood reversing its flow, gathering back into the floating body. With a gesture, Damien Winters rose from the water, wounds closing, burns fading.

The boy gasped, coughing up water as life flooded back into him. Students gasped. Even Avian felt his eyebrows rise. Resurrection wasn't impossible, but to do it so casually...

"You dare—" The Lightbringer Captain started forward.

The Dean didn't move. Didn't gesture. Didn't speak.

He simply existed harder.

The air became solid. Not with a spell, not with technique, but with pure, raw, undiluted magical pressure. Every student dropped to their knees, unable to stand against the weight. Even Kai, with his Third Tier cultivation, was forced down. Avian managed to stay standing, but barely, his Seventh Tier core screaming against the pressure.

The Lightbringer Captain took one step, then stopped. His armor began to crack. Hairline fractures spread across the blessed metal like spider webs, divine enchantments failing against something older and more fundamental than faith.

"You forget yourself, Captain," the Dean said mildly, still kneeling beside the recovering student. "This is the Imperial Academy. We have existed since before your Church claimed divinity. We will exist long after you return to dust. And within these walls, I am the only authority that matters."

He stood, and the pressure vanished. Students gasped for air. The Captain's armor held together, but barely.

"The Church will hear of this," the Captain said, voice strained.

"I certainly hope so." The Dean's smile was winter given form. "Tell them Dean Aldrich sends his regards. Tell them the Academy remembers the old agreements. And tell them if they spill student blood on my grounds again, I will personally remind them why mages ruled before priests learned to pray."

The Captain stood frozen for a long moment, divine light flickering around him like dying flames. Then, without another word, he vanished—not walking away, but simply ceasing to be present.

The Dean turned to the assembled students, his expression softening fractionally. "Mr. Winters will recover in the medical wing. The rest of you, return to your dormitories. And remember—within these walls, you are under Academy protection. Not the Church's. Not the Empire's. Mine."

As students began to disperse, the Dean's eyes found Avian. For a moment, something passed between them—recognition, perhaps, or warning. Then the Dean was helping Damien Winters to his feet, supporting the boy with surprising gentleness.

"This changes everything," Kai murmured as they walked back. "The Academy just declared independence from Church authority."

"No," Avian said quietly, watching the Dean disappear into the medical building. "They just reminded everyone that independence already existed. The question is, how long can they maintain it?"

The moon continued its path across the sky, indifferent to human schemes. But the fountain water ran clear now, no longer tainted with blood. The Academy had drawn its line.

The real war was just beginning.

Two days. Then I find who's distributing for her. Cut the local connection before the Church does.

Before the Academy becomes a battlefield.

Before this war she started consumes everyone.

And maybe, just maybe, I can trace it back to wherever she's actually hiding.

But now there was another player on the board. Dean Aldrich, who could resurrect the dead and crush Lightbringers with presence alone. The Academy wasn't just a neutral ground—it was a power in its own right.

The game had just become infinitely more complex.