Bright Flame, Deep Shadow (lesbian story)

Ardyan

I want to give up.

My head spins from exhaustion, even though it's only—what? Eleven? It seems a lifetime ago that Bella was cast into the Deep Shadow, but it was only this morning.

And Hestia did it all to protect me. I'm no closer to finding this bloody list of alumni than I was when I first started, but she seemed to think that reporting Arabella would somehow buy me more time. As if I would actually be able to make use of it.

I sink to the floor, my back against the cold stone wall of the archive. I'm in deep, this time. Almost in a trance, I walked until I found the back wall. I can't even see the glow from the circular office from here, and the golden sphere from my lamp is all the light I have. That, and thousands upon thousands of books. Among them is the one I need to find.

If I go to Davorin—when he's back from wherever he's gone to—and tell him I want out, what will he do? Will he treat me like a deserter?

I could go to sleep here. The stone floor is no bed, but the shelves rise around me like sentries. I'm probably the only person in the whole school who knows about this place—all the weeks I've been searching and I've never, ever seen signs that anyone else has been here. As far as I know, the archive has been abandoned for years. It's dusty enough.

I lean my head back against the wall, and a brick moves.

I jerk forward, wide awake now, heart pounding. I suppose it makes sense that there would be a few loose stones here, of course, but—

I give the stone a push with the palm of my hand. It's not just loose—there was no mortar there in the first place.

With shaking fingers, I prise the stone out of its slot and hold my lamp up to the hole in the wall.

Inside, there are three books.

I grab them and lift them out. One of the titles is in a language I don't understand, and the others are too faded for me to make out the lettering. It doesn't matter. I hold my lamp up to the wall. If there were three books hidden behind one loose stone, then does that mean...?

I quickly make my way along the wall, pushing at every stone I can reach. About one in every ten gives way, usually to reveal only one or two slim files, but after a while I find a nook stuffed with five leather-bound books. I grab them, and my lamplight shines dully on the peeling cover of the book on top of the pile. My breath catches in my throat. Engraved on the leather cover is the title, "Alumni, Years Cyneric 200-250."

The book is tightly fastened with two tarnished brass clasps, and I have to stop myself from prising it open—maybe Davorin wouldn't want me to. Maybe it wouldn't matter. When I show him this, maybe he'll finally tell me what this is all about.

As I make my way through the labyrinth of a library, it occurs to me that there could be hundreds of other loose stones hiding books all the way along the archive's walls. Any book in here must be important, but those are probably secret.

When I emerge into the circular office at the centre of the archive, I nearly drop the book in shock.

Sitting in the armchair by the unlit fire is Professor Martel.

"Hello, Ardyan," he says as I stand there frozen to the spot, mouth hanging open.

"Hello, Professor," I reply cautiously. I clutch the book to my chest. I won't let anyone take it away from me now, not after all the trouble I've gone to to get it.

"I have to say, I'm impressed you found this place." He stands up, and I back away from him. I have my training dagger—will I be able to find a strand in time? But he would just follow me into the Shadows, wouldn't he? I'm as good as dead now, if he turns me in. I'll be cast out like Arabella was. The thought makes my palms sweat.