The tomes in the Great Library were not sorted by age, but by rank and status of their owners. There were sections for common people, noblemen, priests, and kings. And of course, the Fateweavers themselves had tomes, too. Most of them were kept together, except for the ones belonging to Masters and Elders — these tomes were locked behind strong gates, and kept in a highly restricted section, together with the occasional monarch's tome.

The east wing archives housed many fate tomes of the middle class. Some of them were showing rudimentary decorations, a few of them adorned with ribbons and calligraphy — not to the same extent as the tomes of mighty rulers, but enough to distinguish them from the common folk. Kaelen often thought of these decorations as funerary goods, because they were of equally little use to their owners. But humans were a prideful species, and so they liked to show their status, even if most of them would never even come near their fate tome, let alone hold and read it.

Naturally, the oldest-looking tomes belonged to people who were old in kind, and while that didn't necessarily increase their importance, these tomes usually made for an interesting read during long night shifts.

Kaelen was sitting at an old study desk near the main entrance to one of the archives. His stacked legs were resting on the wooden tabletop, and a flickering candle was shining a dim light onto the dusty fate tome he was skimming through, making the green ink shimmer mystically. As he pensively turned page after page, the gentle rustling of paper was the only sound that broke the nocturnal silence.

Veran Baris had been a wealthy man. A merchant by trade, he had accumulated a small fortune at a young age, selling spices he imported from distant lands. There was no particular wit to it — he had just followed public demand and upped his prices with every chance he was given. It didn't seem morally wrong either, because he was selling his wares to people far richer than him, and they didn't even notice the upcharge, nor would they have cared. Veran was a crafty businessman, and so he expanded his portfolio from spices for cooking to spices for the senses. He was living his long life with purpose, and his family prospered for many years, enjoying the finer things in a mansion near the coast. Fate had been kind to Veran, but then his daughter died as a young adult and left a hole in Veran's heart that could not be filled. She had been found at the foot of a nearby cliff, assumed to have been drunk and under the influence of the very substances Veran sold for a living. Henceforth, he was haunted by guilt and regret, wishing to trade in his wealth for a simpler life, with his daughter restored to his side. But of course, fate didn't work that way. And so he spent his remaining years as a shadow of his former self, with his son, and now only child, trying to console him. On the surface, it was a sad story — but of course, the fate tome saw deeper than that, and in doing so, it revealed to Kaelen that Veran's son Alren had even more ambition than his father. Being the last offspring of a wealthy family, he stood to inherit a vast fortune, and he was counting the days until he could pay off the many debts he had accumulated gambling in Cylion. But despite his gambling addiction, Alren Baris was not keen on taking any chances in life, and he was not one to be content with less than what he thought he deserved — which is why he drugged and killed his sister a couple of years prior, aiming to secure the full inheritance for himself. Veran didn't know about any of this, of course. And it would come as a complete surprise to him to find Alren waiting in his luxurious bedroom, with a knife in his hand and menace in his eyes. And just like that, a long life would come to an abrupt end, only a few weeks from now.

Soon, Veran's tome would get burned, like most of them when their owners passed away. Only a select few were kept, specifically, if they provided historic value or could be used for teaching future generations of Fateweavers. Kaelen wondered if it was an important ritual to burn a fate tome as the soul it belonged to moved on to the next plane of existence, or if it was simply a matter of freeing up storage in the archives — while at the same time avoiding the need to bury any bodies, since they would dissolve the moment their fate tome was destroyed, just like that little bird the other day.

Kaelen closed the book and let his gaze wander. Watch duty was more of a ceremonial task these days, a chore to condition becoming Fateweavers in the art of patience and quiet contemplation. Nothing ever happened amidst the myriad of old shelves, and the only moments of action involved shooing rats away, and trying to find the candle cabinet in pitch black darkness, whenever they didn't notice in time that their old candle was dying down. Time would pass sluggishly slow in these lonely nights, every minute a drag, until they would eventually hear the first shutters slam against the outer stone walls — it would be the sound of salvation.

Kaelen got up from his uncomfortable wooden chair to put the tome back where it belonged. He went over to a tall shelf at the entry to one of the long aisles. The flickering light from the candle on his desk could barely reach the dusty bookcases that were lining the many levels of the shelf, and gave in to utter darkness towards the top. He shoved the book back in place, and it slid in with a muffled thud.

Kaelen stood there for a moment, pensively staring at the many fate tomes in front of him, debating what to read next. His thoughts came to an abrupt halt when he heard a noise he was not familiar with at this time of day: footsteps. Gentle feet were moving down one of the aisles, not far from where he was standing. He tried to ignore it at first, thinking it was a child of his imagination, but when the echoing sound of boots came to a halt and gave way to a metallic rattling, he knew it wasn't just in his head.

At first, he didn't think much of it. Any member of the Great Library could access these halls whenever they wanted. Most of the fate tomes stored here contained little to no critical information, only the restricted sections on the north side of the archive housed more important fates, but they were kept safe behind excessively locked metal gates. Their knowledge was only accessible to the highest ranks of the Fateweavers.

Kaelen had never stepped foot into one of these sections, and would've been content with keeping it that way — if only there hadn't been the shrieking clank of a heavy chain lock dropping onto the cold stone floor, followed by the menacing creaking of a metal door being pushed open.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Kaelen knew immediately that someone was about to enter one of the restricted sections. And he started to have the sneaking suspicion that they were not supposed to do so. The odds that one of the Masters or the Elder himself was sneaking around the library in the middle of the night, just to read up on someone's fate, were rather slim.

He stood frozen in place for a couple of moments, debating his next move. His breathing was shallow, and his muscles were tense. He didn't bring his staff to the night shift, so he wouldn't have much in the way of defending himself, should the need arise. But then again, he thought, there would surely be a harmless explanation for all of this.

As he slowly lurked over to the aisle of shelves the noise had been coming from, he could feel his heart beat in his chest. The commotion around the gate had gone silent, so Kaelen assumed the person he was sneaking up on had made their way inside. In theory, that gave him the advantage, because there was only one entrance to this section of the library — or was there? His uneasiness grew stronger, and he picked up his pace.

When Kaelen reached the scene of the intrusion, he found a wide-open metal gate, illuminated by a pair of crackling torches on either side of the door frame. The chain lock on the floor didn't look damaged, just cleanly picked open. Behind the gate lay a dark abyss, with no candles or lamps offering reprieve. Kaelen wondered if they just ran out of wax and oil, or if the mysterious visitor had extinguished them.

Pricking up his ears, he stood in the doorway for a few seconds. He could not hear any noise from inside, nor could his strained eyes make out any movement in the dark. Grabbing a torch from one of the walls in the main room seemed logical, but it would also give away his presence once he made his way into the pitch-black darkness of the restricted section. He could wait near the door — but what if there was a second way out?

Kaelen realized that his fingernails were clawing into the skin of his palms.

Slowly, he entered through the stone gateway, and soon he was surrounded by darkness. More than once, he almost bumped into one of the massive shelves that housed the most important fates and best-kept secrets of the Fateweavers. Had there been light, he might have caught a glimpse of something truly meaningful, but as it stood, he had to let his imagination fill in the blanks.

With his hands crawling over the backs of books and soft scrolls of parchment, he reached what felt like a break in the never-ending row of shelves. When he pushed his body around the bend, the darkness was not fully dark anymore: way in the distance, he could see a faint green shimmer, moving up and down ever so slightly.

He gasped — and immediately knew he shouldn't have. With a thud that sounded like a closing book, the green shimmer vanished, and immediately after that, Kaelen could hear the sound of speedy footsteps.

He knew he'd blown it.

With the sneaky approach out the window, he tried his best to follow the intruder as fast as he could. His knees and elbows kept hitting obstacles, some softer and some harder, but the adrenaline numbed all pain and allowed him to keep going. For a moment, it actually seemed like he was closing in on whoever he was chasing — and then he heard the loud bang of a metal gate being slammed shut. Kaelen figured that must have been the same gate he'd come in through.

So he could've just waited by the entrance, he thought sourly.

With the faint light from the main room of the archive guiding him, he managed to find his way back to the entrance of the restricted section. He grabbed the gate's rusty metal bars and yanked them open. Back in the hall he had kept watch in, his eyes were struggling to adjust to the bright flares of the nearby torches.

At first glance, he could not see the person he was following, but when Kaelen let his gaze wander, he noticed a couple of loose pieces of paper lying on the floor in front of the shelf to his right. It seemed like someone had sprinted past in great haste and knocked them down with the gust they left in their wake.

Kaelen didn't hesitate and immediately ran off in the same direction. He had to pull up the lower part of his robe, or else he would've tripped. The ceremonial gown he was wearing was clearly not made for running.

Following the trail of paper, he left the archive through one of the large portals — and then it hit him: he was in the middle of a theft. The theft of a fate tome, just like in his dream days prior. The adrenaline had been numbing his mind, making him act on pure instincts. Only now did his thoughts catch up to him, and with them the shocking realization that he'd been in this situation before, albeit only asleep.

Not sure yet what to make of this revelation, he continued running. He kept telling himself that by knowing one outcome to this chase, he could do better this time. And so he continued his mad dash, hoping he could still remedy this whole situation.

But no matter how hard he tried, everything played out exactly the same as in his dream.

The long hallway, the broken window, the door, the courtyard. It was like he was being pulled on a string, like he was watching himself as a spectator, not within his own body but from the outside. It didn't feel forced at first, and yet every time he looked back at the last few seconds, he realized he'd been doing the exact same movements, thinking the exact same thoughts as last time. Atop all the panic he felt on behalf of the theft he seemingly was destined to let happen, he felt deeply distressed by the brutal predetermination that dictated his every step. And so he stood in the courtyard, motionless, rain hammering down on him and mixing with salty tears. Anger was engulfing his mind, distorting his thoughts and numbing his senses. He wanted to scream, but couldn't. It was like some higher power had taken control of his body, like he was nothing but a marionette in some twisted play.

After a long while, the feeling of helplessness slowly subsided, but the rage stayed. Kaelen could sense that he was in control again, the same moment his dream had ended. But was that control, or did he just not know the script from here on out? He shuddered at the thought.

Had he been led by fate? Was that what it felt like? Had their god played some trick on him by showing Kaelen a glimpse of his future? Was someone doing this to him for amusement?

He stared at the bright moon, pondering the searing questions that were setting his mind ablaze.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.