Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Four

MacTire and Raaf immediately stepped into planning mode, discussing the best way to access the archives. But I was already moving. My mind made up, I couldn’t afford to wait. MacTire and Marchant had already been here long enough to raise questions and, I knew, if we waited any longer, we'd risk drawing attention to ourselves.

“Wait, Raven, we need to…” MacTire called out, but I was already halfway to the door.

“We don't have the time,” I said, my voice echoing back. “We need to move, now.”

As if on cue, the sky outside my quarters darkened, and a jagged flash of lightning split the horizon, followed almost immediately by a deep, rattling boom of thunder. The windows quivered faintly with the thunder’s impact, the deep rumble reverberating through the room like a distant growl. Beyond the glass, the storm had broken fully, lightning carving jagged streaks across the still darkening sky. Even though the soundproofing dulled the chaos outside, the intensity of the flickering light left no doubt—it was a violent one.

Marchant jumped at the sudden thunderclap, her eyes wide in alarm. I only flicked a brief glance towards the windows, my expression unchanged. “Marvellous,” I muttered, the sarcasm barely masking my own unease. “Like that’s not ominous or anything…”

Another crack of thunder broke through the silence, and a shiver ran down my spine before I could shake it off.

***

The storm outside raged on, brilliant flashes of lightning spilling an otherworldly glow through the half-glazed doors lining the corridor. Each burst seared into my retinas, leaving lingering afterimages in the dim light. The lights above flickered erratically, casting shadows that twisted unnaturally with every stutter. Beyond the doors, faint voices leaked through, their words muffled and distant, as if coming from deep under water.

I found myself almost grateful for the storm now. It was loud enough, dramatic enough, to keep everyone’s focus elsewhere, masking our presence as we closed on the archives.

“We need to keep moving,” MacTire said quietly, his gaze scanning the corridor ahead, a subtle urgency in his tone as he pulled an unresisting Marchant forwards.

I blinked, confused. When had we come to a stop? More accurately, when had Marchant and I stopped? A quick glance at Raaf confirmed what I was beginning to suspect: We’d walked into some kind of security measure. And only some of us, it seemed, were immune to it.

I focused on putting one foot in front of the other, my muscles straining against an invisible pressure. It was as if the very air had thickened around me, pressing down, resisting—every step felt like I was wading through thick mud. But I refused to stand there like an idiot, waiting for someone else to pull me out of this mess I’d walked blindly into.

The air suddenly returned to normal as I pushed my way through the invisible barrier. Stepping out the other side of the trap, Marchant’s voice was sharp, and a little too loud for comfort in this confined space.

“Really starting to hate this magical shit,” she hissed, frustration obvious, as she rounded on Mac. “How long would I have stayed there if you hadn’t pulled me through?”

Raaf shot her a sideways glance, his face unreadable as ever, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a quiet, knowing assessment.

“You’re not exactly... authorised to be here,” he said, his tone still flat but tinged with something more, “so until someone found you and decided to pull you out...” His voice trailed off, leaving the rest to Marchant’s imagination.

I shot him a warning glance, but he just shrugged. “What? It's true.”

Before I could say more, the lights suddenly went out, plunging us all into darkness.

“Great, just what we need,” MacTire said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “What else can go wrong?”

I groaned, rolling my eyes. Tempting fate, mate. I was about to fire back with something cutting but the lights flickering back to life beat me to it. I couldn’t help a small, quiet sigh of relief as we were, once again, bathed in a warm golden light. At least the generators still worked.

That brief moment of calm was shattered the instant I stepped around the corner, almost colliding with a security patrol. My heart leapt into my throat, panic flaring in my chest. The words on the tip of my tongue vanished in an instant, swallowed by the sharp reality of the situation.

The silence stretched between us until, unexpectedly, the sentinel's face shifted, his neutral expression sliding into a broad, almost too-friendly smile. “Didn't expect to see anyone down here,” he said, his tone casual, though his eyes flickered with recognition as he spotted Marchant behind me. “Oh, it's you. Getting the tour, are you?”

I forced a smile, hoping the strain wasn’t showing as I tried to keep my voice light despite, well, everything. “Yeah, just showing the new girl around.” I gestured to Marchant, who stiffened at the motion. “Easing her into things, you know.”

The sentinel’s gaze lingered for a moment too long before his smile widened. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find everything you need. Just be careful—the archives can be… disorientating at first.” His tone was friendly, but something about the way his eyes didn’t quite match his smile left me uneasy.

***

The storm's intensity matched my unease as we passed through the door. The archives loomed like a labyrinth of knowledge and secrets. The air inside was dry and faintly metallic, carrying a sterile tang that set my teeth on edge. Shelves towered overhead like silent sentinels, disappearing into shadows that even the lightning couldn't penetrate.

The sentinel’s words lingered uncomfortably in my thoughts, but I forced myself to focus. We’d made it past the first obstacle—barely. But now came the real challenge: finding what we needed. If there was a record of Peredur here, one glance was enough to illustrate the enormity of the task before us. Finding it would be like locating a specific grain of sand on a beach, wearing oven gloves and using only tweezers... all while trying to avoid getting caught with our fingers in the cookie jar.

“Is it just me,” I asked, the words escaping before I could stop them, “or was that too easy?” My voice cut through the silence, flat but loaded with tension.

MacTire glanced at me, his brow furrowed but offering no response. Marchant shifted uneasily, her lips pressing into a tight line, while Raaf’s gaze remained fixed ahead. He didn’t bother looking at me as he muttered, “Let’s just get this over with.”

His gaze seemed to turn inward, as he methodically mapped potential information sources. “Peredur ap Gruffud... known associates, autopsy report, artifact thefts - incident logs, AAR..."

"OK, stay quiet," he said as he turned, pressing his hand to the orb. Blue-white light erupted, cascading over the orb’s surface - sharp and intense like some freakish nuclear glow, splintering across Raaf's face in angular, almost crystalline patterns that looked more like raw energy than illumination. "Peredur ap Gruffud, crosslink all records…" he started, his voice low but clear.

The orb’s light intensified, coruscating wildly before dimming. A faint trail of golden light extended down an aisle. “Let’s go,” Raaf instructed, his voice taut with urgency.

***

A golden thread of light beckoned us forward, winding through the towering labyrinth of cabinets and shelving units with an unsettling urgency. The glow threw soft, flickering reflections onto the polished floor, transforming the aisle into a hallway of shifting shadows.
Following Raaf, we moved in near silence—alert to the faintest sound. Each echo of distant footsteps or muffled voices froze us in place, or saw us scurrying down adjacent aisles to hide in shadows until the danger passed.

At first, his movements were unhurried, his steps cautious but light. But the deeper we went, the closer to the surface his wolf rose. He began brushing his fingers lightly along the edges of the shelving as he stalked past, eyes glowing like tarnished gold as he only occasionally glanced at the glowing thread to confirm its path.

I could understand his frustration. I was feeling it too – hell, we were all feeling it. Nobody had said anything at the first cabinet we stopped at - we’d found the file easily enough, a blue folder with Peredur’s name neatly stencilled across its top… only to shove it firmly back when it proved to be completely empty.

That, I’d thought, surely shouldn’t have been possible. But, by the time we’d checked the second, and then the third locations the orb led us to it was fairly obvious that someone had beaten us down here, and made a concerted effort to wipe every trace of the obnoxious, self-serving shit from the records.

MacTire and Marchant looked like I felt. Tired, and more than a little pissed that we hadn’t got here soon enough – not that there was any way of telling just when everything had been cleaned out. But Raaf? Raaf radiated a kind of feral determination that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

His hand tightened on the folder that was supposed to have contained Peredur’s autopsy records, his claws briefly extending and scoring its surface before he caught himself. A low growl started deep in his chest as he twisted his head one way, and then the other, his focus settling on something somewhere beyond the now cold-blue ball that hovered just out of his reach.

My eyes snapped up from where the seemingly forgotten folder had landed on the floor at the sound of his voice.

“Do you hear that?” He demanded gruffly, voice garbled by a mouth full of jagged teeth set in a jaw stretched taut, a muzzle not yet fully formed.

“Hear what?” Marchant asked, her tone edged with caution.

“Precisely,” MacTire nodded, closing his eyes and turning his head the same way Raaf had. “It’s quiet… too quiet…”

The words hit me like a cold splash of water. My stomach twisted as I realised he was right. The muffled voices of the archivists had disappeared, and even the faint hum of the lights above had vanished, leaving only an unnatural stillness in their wake.

Lights started blinking out in the distance, darkness encroaching faster and faster. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath. My hands clenched instinctively at my sides as I scanned the aisles around us. Shadows stretched long and distorted under the dim flicker of the last few working bulbs.

And then last lights went out. Darkness, smothering and absolute surrounded us and, for a heartbeat, the silence pressed in on us like a living thing.

“Move!” Raaf barked, his voice cutting through the dark like a whip.

A flicker of silver light burst in the periphery of my vision as the first object came rolling into view—small, metallic, and unmistakably trouble.

“Flashbangs!” MacTire shouted.

Raaf was already moving. He slammed into me, a wall of muscle and fury, driving me sideways and out of the blast radius as the first canister exploded. Light seared through the gloom, blindingly bright even through clenched eyelids. The deafening bang that followed left my ears ringing and my vision a chaotic mess of white spots and blurred outlines.

I hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the breath out of me. Smoke followed, acrid and suffocating, curling around us in thick, impenetrable waves. Through the chaos, I caught glimpses of movement—shadows emerging from the haze, shifting unnaturally in the swirling smoke.

My heart pounded in my chest as the figures drew silently closer, their shapes slowly resolving into something more than human. I caught the glint of claws and bright, feral eyes as half-shifted weres prowled into view, their monstrous forms distorted by the smoke and shadows cast by hands glowing with the tell-tale light of spells ready to cast.

Time stood still. My head pounded, something warm and sticky trickled across my face. I reached up and stared, confused, at the red liquid now coating my hand. A deafening crack split the air like thunder, accompanied by a flash of sickly green light that burned afterimages into my vision and the world kicked back into frantic motion, the chaos all around me all but impossible to track.

Raaf was already up and in motion, his body a blur as he launched himself at the closest mage, claws extended. A snarl ripped from his throat, raw and primal, as he tore through the spellcaster's defences with brutal efficiency. The mage's protective wards shattered like glass, magical fragments scattering through the air like deadly confetti before dissolving into nothing. Blood sprayed in an arc through the smoky air as Raaf's claws found their mark.

Through the haze, shapes twisted and blurred. A flash of claws here, a burst of spell-light there. MacTire's bulk moved like liquid shadow through the smoke, his growls mixing with the sounds of combat.

Someone screamed—a wet, gurgling sound cut abruptly short. I couldn't tell if it was friend or foe.

Another explosion rocked the archives, sending me rolling into a shelf. Files rained down around me as I fought to get upright. Through streaming eyes, I caught fragments of the fighting: MacTire locked in combat with something more beast than man, Raaf falling – his blood-streaked form lying motionless surrounded by a dozen masked corpses. Marchant—where was Marchant?

A burst of sickly green light illuminated the smoke, casting everything in an otherworldly glow. I glimpsed her then, wielding a fallen shelf like a club, swinging it at a mage who'd got too close. I smiled as the wood connected with a satisfying crack.

We were winning, maybe - I was almost sure, but the smoke was getting thicker, or perhaps that was just my consciousness fading - either way, my vision swam, starbursts of spell-fire seared my retinas as I desperately searched for Raaf’s body. I crawled towards where I thought he lay, my muscles burning with the effort. Every breath tasting of copper and ozone.

"Down!" MacTire's order cut through the chaos. I dropped reflexively as something whizzed past my head, trailing sparks of angry red magic that burnt effortlessly through the shelf I’d just been leaning against.

The shelves groaned ominously as I leant back against them, trying to catch my breath. Through gaps in the smoke, movement caught my eye - dark shapes approaching in formation. My heart leapt. Finally! Security must have heard the commotion. All we had to do was hold out a few more seconds and then...

The shapes emerged from the haze wearing the same featureless masks as our original attackers, moving with that same distinctive stutter-step that might have been down to training, or - more likely - was just my concussion making everything skip like a damaged video. Either way, these weren't rescuers… we were fucked.

I could only watch, helpless, as they methodically overwhelmed my companions. MacTire went down first, swarmed by three massive weres who struck with brutal efficiency. Marchant lasted longer than I would've expected, that improvised club of hers claiming at least one more victim before a precise spell caught her in the chest, slamming her back into the shelves with enough force to crack something. The sound of her impact turned my stomach.

And then they turned toward me, eyes gleaming through the smoke like hungry wolves closing in on wounded prey. I tried to push myself upright, but my legs wouldn't cooperate. Not that it mattered now.

That's when I heard it. A sound like fingernails being dragged down a blackboard cut through the chaos, sharp and distinct against the cacophony of battle. The air itself seemed to warp, the temperature spiking with a sudden intensity that made the acrid smoke even harder to breathe.

"Well shit," was all I managed, recognising that sound from the library… the cavalry had arrived.

The walls shuddered as two immense dragons materialised displacing enough air to create a sonic boom. Between them, Ember descended with an otherworldly grace, her scales glowing with an inner light that pulsed and shifted like molten lava. Her wings unfurled in a fluid motion, sending a gale-force wind towards our assailants, scattering papers and ash like autumn leaves.

She landed with precision, claws scraping against the floor in a sharp screech that echoed through the space, her gaze immediately locking on me with fierce, unwavering intent. Her head tilted, intelligent amber eyes flicking over me. Heat radiated from her, a shield against the fear that had gripped my chest just moments before.

I wanted to tell her to get out of there, to save herself but the words tangled in my throat, going unspoken as she turned with a deep rumbling growl to join the fray. Her claws dug into the tiled floor with a screech that set my teeth on edge as she twisted round, putting herself between me and the masked assholes.

Above us, the air shimmered as the two larger dragons swept over the battlefield, flames erupting from their jaws. Flames that roared and danced, controlled yet unrelenting, forcing our enemies to scatter or be consumed.

The masked figures faltered, their coordination and resolve crumbling under the dragons’ sudden and overwhelming presence. One by one, they retreated, their footsteps a chaotic staccato as they fled into the labyrinthine shadows of the archives. Ember crouched lower, her body a solid wall of warmth and protection. She growled again, the sound reverberating through my chest as she snarled at the nearest foe’s rapidly retreating back as if daring them to come back.

Cute, I thought. My smile dying as pain flared behind my eyes, sharp and unrelenting, as if something inside me was being pulled apart. Ember shifted back to me, her broad head lowering until I felt the warm huff of her breath against my cheek. A low, concerned rumble escaped her throat as I struggled to stay upright. Somewhere in the haze of agony, I reached out and pressed a hand to her scaled foreleg, drawing comfort from the solidness of her presence.

Ember rumbled softly, her tone almost scolding as she nudged me with her snout, urging me to stay still. I leant into her warmth, my head pounding but my resolve steadying as the immediate danger faded.

A white-hot pain lanced through my skull. It felt like something was tearing loose inside my head, like a dam breaking. Stars burst behind my eyes as the pressure built, a roaring in my ears drowning out everything else.

And the world faded to black.