The footsteps were unhurried.
Each one echoed through the Hall with quiet certainty, neither hurried nor cautious, as though the owner had walked these endless corridors so many times that even the silence recognized him.
Kael instinctively rose from his chair.
His hand drifted toward the sword at his waist before stopping halfway.
The Librarian didn’t react.
He simply watched the corridor beyond the chamber with the patient expression of someone expecting an old acquaintance rather than an intruder.
“You knew someone was coming.” “I suspected.” The Librarian smiled faintly.
“The Hall has been…
unusually active since you arrived.” The footsteps grew closer.
Between the towering shelves, a figure gradually emerged from the golden haze drifting through the library.
An old man.
His back was slightly bent beneath the weight of a weathered travelling pack, while a faded grey cloak rested loosely over simple clothes that had seen countless years of use.
A wooden walking stick tapped softly against the marble floor with every step, though it looked more like a habit than a necessity.
His beard was long, streaked with silver, and his sun-darkened face was marked by deep wrinkles earned through years spent beneath open skies rather than inside castles.
There was nothing extraordinary about him.
If Kael had crossed paths with the old man in a marketplace, he doubted he would have looked twice.
Yet the Hall itself seemed to acknowledge his arrival.
Golden letters drifted away from the shelves as he passed, making space without ever touching him.
The old man stopped at the entrance to the chamber and sighed.
“I see you’ve finally found another one.” The Librarian inclined his head politely.
“It has been some time.” “It has.” The old traveller looked toward Kael.
His eyes were clear.
Sharp.
Far sharper than someone of his apparent age should possess.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he smiled.
“So…” His voice was warm, carrying the easy rhythm of someone used to telling stories beside a campfire.
“You’re the boy causing all the trouble.” Kael blinked.
“…Excuse me?” The old man chuckled.
“I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” “I don’t think we’ve met.” “We haven’t.” He planted the walking stick lightly against the floor.
“But you’ve made enough noise for half the world to notice.” Kael frowned.
“I wasn’t aware I’d done anything.” “Oh?” The traveller raised an eyebrow.
“You entered the Hall.” “You awakened the First Keeper.” “You made the Veil crack.” He began counting on his fingers with exaggerated seriousness.
“And if the whispers are correct…” He glanced briefly toward the Librarian.
“…you’ve also managed to irritate Her.” The Librarian closed his eyes for a moment.
“I had hoped you wouldn’t mention that.” “I’ve never been particularly good at keeping quiet.” Kael looked between them.
“…Who is ‘Her’?” Both men became noticeably quieter.
The traveller’s smile remained, but it no longer reached his eyes.
“Someone you’re not ready to meet.” The answer only deepened Kael’s curiosity.
Before he could ask another question, the old man slowly removed his pack and placed it beside the desk.
It landed with a heavy thud.
Much heavier than its size should have allowed.
The traveller began rummaging through it.
Books.
Maps.
Bundles of parchment tied together with faded string.
A cracked compass.
Several small glass bottles filled with black sand.
Finally, he pulled out a dented metal flask.
He took a long drink before offering it toward the Librarian.
The younger man looked at it with open suspicion.
“I decline.” “You always do.” “It smells terrible.” “It builds character.” “It destroys common sense.” The old traveller laughed loudly enough for the sound to echo through the chamber.
Kael stared.
Somehow…
Watching the two of them argue over a flask inside the most mysterious place in the world felt absurdly normal.
The old man caught him looking.
“What?” “…I expected…” Kael searched for the right words.
“…someone different.” “Oh?” “Taller.” The traveller nodded thoughtfully.
“I get that a lot.” “…Older.” “I am older.” “…More…” Kael hesitated.
“…legendary.” The old man burst into laughter.
“So did I.” Even the Librarian allowed himself the faintest smile.
The traveller finally settled into the empty chair opposite Kael, stretching his legs with an audible sigh of relief.
“You’ll learn something important one day, boy.” “And what’s that?” “The world has an unfortunate habit of making legends look disappointingly ordinary.” Silence settled comfortably between them.
The old man rested both hands upon the worn wood of his walking stick.
Then, for the first time since arriving…
His expression grew serious.
“I’ve been searching for you.” Kael’s smile disappeared.
“Me?” “Not exactly.” The traveller looked directly into his eyes.
“I’ve been searching…” “…for whoever inherited that notebook.” Kael felt his heartbeat stop.
His hand instinctively slipped inside his coat.
The blue notebook was still there.
Exactly where he had left it.
He slowly looked back at the old man.
“You know about it.” The traveller nodded.
“I should.” His fingers tightened around the walking stick.
“I wrote the first page.” The Hall fell silent once more.
Even the floating golden letters seemed to stop moving.
Kael stared at the old man, unable to form a single coherent thought.
The notebook.
The mysterious journal that had changed his life.
The object that had led him to the Forgotten Sanctuary.
The book whose handwriting no scholar had been able to identify…
The man sitting quietly across from him had just claimed to be its author.
And somehow…
Kael believed him.
(Continues)