Chapter 53

After enduring the monotony of my day, finding myself ensnared once more in the labyrinthine library felt like an unearned blessing. Unlike the previous night—where I had been stripped of all sensory input beyond my aura—this evening unfolded in a more familiar way. Towering bookshelves stretched into infinity, surrounding me like ancient sentinels, their wooden spines groaning beneath the weight of knowledge. The air smelled of parchment, ink, and something faintly metallic, as if the library itself bled wisdom into the air. The sheer vastness of information available was staggering: histories meticulously recounted, scientific theories laid bare, novels of endless variety—all arranged in no discernible order. It was chaos masquerading as a collection, the perfect reflection of a mind I could never hope to fully grasp.

A voice, deep and resonant, stirred me from my contemplation. "Sire. You seem to have arrived here without Fractal once again."

Lumivis’s tone carried more weight than usual, each syllable pressing into the quiet of the library like the tolling of a distant bell. His words weren’t a mere observation—they were a statement of significance. If it weren’t for yesterday’s conversation, I might have brushed it off as coincidence. But now? Now, it felt intentional.

I exhaled slowly, steadying my breath. "I don’t think she’ll be coming here again by the same method," I admitted. My voice carried an edge of grim certainty. "I think she’s welcome here. While I... I’ve yet to find a sponsor I’d accept."

Lumivis hummed in thought. "Would you like to make that a condition of the dagger's acquisition?"

I considered the idea. "It crossed my mind. But while I agreed to take the quill, I’m not about to dive headfirst into a fragmented play based on nothing but scattered lines of dialogue. It’s a mess, Lumivis. A game with missing pieces."

I began pacing between the bookshelves, my mind working through the problem. "All I know is that the dancer is the killer... of the dancer. Yet she didn’t die. Or perhaps the final scene was a double misdirection. We don’t know anyone’s motives, actions, or even the rules of engagement. And if the book operates as I suspect, diving into fiction means taking on a predefined role."

Lumivis chuckled, the sound carrying a hint of something old and knowing. "Ah, the woes of talent."

Before I could reply, something slithered at the edge of my perception—a presence foul and tattered. A Craven approached. Correction. Three Cravens.

I sighed, more annoyed than concerned. Before my Shell, these things were a challenge. Now? They were beneath me. Their auras felt sloppy, hastily assembled, and most of all—I could crush them effortlessly.

I extended my aura, compressing energy into a single focal point. Vectors of force converged, one atom pressed into the next, compounding with each moment. Then, I wove in a fragment of my arte—not enough to drain me, but sufficient to transform raw force into something elegant.

Tiny blades of paper, finer than a razor’s edge, were pulled from the loose scraps near me, forcing them around the gathering mass. I bound the energy in place, a volatile sphere straining against its constraints. The technique was new to me, but its principle was simple: an unstoppable collapse of mass funneled into an unstable explosion.

[Ruinous Axis.]

The moment I channeled it, the sphere detonated.

The resulting force was a contradiction made manifest—a storm caught between the consuming pull of a black hole and the crushing stability of a neutron star. One force represented total annihilation, the other, the dense remnants of cosmic death. The Cravens never stood a chance.

They were reduced to nothing but a crimson mist, droplets of their existence splattered across the shelves in streaks of blood and ink. The library absorbed the carnage without protest, as if it had seen such violence before.

I exhaled, watching the last remnants of them fade into the silence. Another page turned. Another problem resolved.

***

The main challenge tonight? The ever-shifting paths.

With each step, I took through the halls of books, the library rearranged itself. Passages opened. Closed. New ones emerged where none had been before. But not after every step—if that were the case, I could manipulate it by taking false steps, testing its rhythm. No, the pattern was deliberately erratic, meant to disorient and mislead.

The environment itself wasn’t overtly hostile, but I knew the dangers lurking within these shelves. Every book here held potential threats—“phantoms,” as I called them. Remnants of history that had seeped beyond the boundaries of their pages, spilling into reality. Some were figures from cursed tomes, born from stories that refused to stay fiction. Others were the echoes of past knowledge, twisted by time and malice. Blightfang was only one of many.

Then, a voice.

“Excuse me.”

The words came from above, light yet commanding. My instincts flared, and I tilted my head upward.

“You’re the illegal contractor who was sentenced to this area, right?”

I snarled. Damn it. Just as I had feared…

“Drop the hostility—if I wanted to eat you, I wouldn’t have made myself known. Of course you think everyone’s out to kill you. That’s what that rooster wants.”

Her tone was almost playful, but my wariness remained. The Rooster? That meant Vanitas.

“If that’s the case, could you show yourself?” I asked, keeping my voice even.

The moment I spoke, the bookshelves around me vanished. Lines and lines of them ceased to be, as though they had never existed, revealing an open space. And in the center of it—a woman.

She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, dressed simply. Short hair, no jewelry, an unassuming presence—yet something about her presence pressed against my aura, demanding my attention.

“Happier?” she asked, tilting her head. “Now, would you please introduce yourself? It is rude to make the lady go first. And please—don’t use that courtesy name you’ve been favoring.”

I froze.

How the hell would she know about that?

Still, I forced myself to move, bowing slightly. “I’m Alexander. Alexander Duarte.” I gestured toward Lumivis. “This is Lumivis, my contracted spirit. Eventually, he will inhabit my Machina.”

Lumivis, standing at my side, took a far deeper bow than I had ever seen from him before. A bow of true reverence.

“This fracture of the Hangman’s Willow greets you, Lady Barbatos—Queen of Beasts, Ruler of the Wildlands, and Patron of the Werekind.”

I blinked. That was a lot of titles. I turned to Lumivis, suspicion creeping in. He called me sire, sure, but I had always assumed that was a lingering habit from the Card Knight’s influence. Seeing him bow like this, however?

No. This wasn’t habit. This was respect.

Barbatos—or Barbra, as she soon insisted I call her—smiled knowingly, her honey-smooth voice laced with amusement. “Oh? You have one of the 22? That means you’re bound to what… Pandora’s Box? Solomon’s Gate? The World’s Eye? Congratulations, young Alexander.”

I scowled. Every word dripped with something too perfect, too inviting. My skills flared—diplomacy and intimidation both. She was pulling at something. Not magically, but… instinctually.

Resist.

“As your spirit stated, I am Barbatos,” she continued, “although for you, I am simply Barbra. Partly because I loathe the games the others in the Gate play, and I have no interest in bogging you down with titles upon titles.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Then what will you bog me down with?”

Her smile widened. “Ah, you already understand how Solomon’s Gate works. Bury a person beneath contracts, titles, temptations, desires. Name it, and we provide it.”

"Exactly. You name it, you give it. What's your angle?"

Barbra’s eyes glinted. "I couldn’t help but overhear—you don’t have a contract with any of the librarians yet."

I stilled.

"While we normally cannot snatch a contract, those of us who have been granted permission to reside within multiple domains—such as myself and Danatallion—can present an alternative contract. One that grants freedom in both.”

I exhaled slowly. A double-edged blade if I had ever heard one.

“I’ve already made one blank favor,” I admitted, thinking of Vanitas. “One that I’m not certain has been cashed in yet. So if you want to talk contracts, Barbra, I’ll need everything laid out—terms, restrictions, and, most importantly, in writing.”

Barbra chuckled, gesturing for me to follow. “Very well, then. Let’s discuss this properly.”

The bookshelves shifted again, this time revealing a doorway. One that had not been there before.

Inside was a study room—small, enclosed, and private. It resembled something from a mundane library, simple wooden furniture, soft yellow lighting, a heavy wooden table at the center. But the most striking thing?

Every book in the room was being read.

Not by people.

By animals.

Wolves hunched over books, turning pages with their claws. A falcon perched on a stack of tomes, its eyes scanning the text below. A massive, horned elk stood at the far corner, flipping through a leather-bound manuscript with delicate precision.

This place—it wasn’t entirely within Barbatos’s domain.

Nor was it fully within Danatallion’s.

It existed between.

I stepped inside, forcing my heartbeat to remain steady. Whatever was about to be discussed in this room… it had the potential to change everything.

The study was… unexpected.

I had walked through plenty of grandiose chambers, hidden archives, and impossible architectures within Danatallion’s domain, but this? A simple library study room? With warm yellow lighting, wooden chairs, and a large central table—it felt disarmingly normal.

If not for the beasts.

None of them acknowledged us.

I did not ask why.

Instead, I turned my attention to the so-called Queen of Beasts.

Barbatos—or Barbra, as she insisted—glided past the animals with an easy familiarity, claiming a chair at the table as if she had always belonged there. She gestured to the seats opposite her, a silent invitation.

I didn’t move immediately. I didn’t trust her.

She noticed.

“Oh, please,” she sighed, resting her chin on her palm. “If I planned to ensnare you the moment you sat down, I wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of talking first. That would be an awful waste of time, wouldn’t it?”

I crossed my arms. “I don’t know. You Gatekeepers seem to have an endless amount of time to waste.”

Barbra laughed.

It was a warm, golden sound. Infuriatingly charming.

“Oh, I like you,” she grinned. “Danatallion must be seething at the thought of you running around his domain unsupervised.”

“‘Seething’ is a strong word,” I said, finally taking a seat. “I’d say ‘mildly inconvenienced.’”

Lumivis settled beside me, standing rather than sitting. His form flickered slightly, his golden threads pulsing with quiet energy.

Barbra’s gaze shifted to him, her grin deepening. “And you… such a curious thing.”

Lumivis did not bow again, but he inclined his head. “This fragment of the Hangman’s Willow thanks you for your attention, Lady Barbatos.”

She hummed. “Hangman’s Willow. What a name. Tell me, little spirit—how does it feel, being bound to one of the 22?”

“I am honored to serve,” Lumivis answered simply.

Barbra’s smile turned sharp. “Are you?”

I cut in before the conversation could veer into dangerous territory. “Enough small talk. You brought me here for a reason.”

Barbra let out a mocking gasp. “My, my! Straight to business! And here I was, hoping for some pleasant conversation.”

“Somehow, I doubt you ever do anything without a reason.”

“Smart boy.” She leaned forward, fingers laced together. “Alright, let’s talk terms.”

I met her gaze head-on. “Let’s start with the basics. What do you want?”

Her smile didn’t waver. “Simple. I want a book.”

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Lumivis stiffened beside me, his threads flickering erratically. He didn’t like this.

I narrowed my eyes. “What book?”

Barbra waved a hand. “Oh, I doubt you’d know it by name. It’s an old thing, tucked away somewhere in Danatallion’s labyrinth.”

My fingers tapped against the table. “Then give me a description.”

Her smile turned playful.

“Oh, now that would be telling.”

My patience thinned. “You want me to transcribe a book, but you won’t tell me what it is?”

“Correct.”

I exhaled through my nose. This was a trap.

She wasn’t outright lying. She wanted a book. But by withholding its identity, she was setting me up for something far more dangerous.

I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms. “No deal.”

Barbra chuckled. “Oh, come now, Alexander. Don’t be so hasty.”

“‘Hasty’ would be agreeing to something blind.”

She studied me for a moment, then shrugged. “Very well. What would make you comfortable?”

“I’d need guarantees. Details. Conditions that prevent me from—oh, I don’t know—accidentally unleashing some apocalyptic horror on the world.”

Barbra giggled.

I hated how she made that sound adorable.

“Oh, you really have been learning, haven’t you?” She clapped her hands together. “Fine. A compromise, then. I’ll give you three constraints.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Only three?”

“Three is generous,” she said sweetly.

I glanced at Lumivis. He was utterly still—watching. Calculating. He didn’t trust this.

Neither did I.

But I needed information.

“…Fine,” I relented. “What are the constraints?”

Barbra held up a finger. “One: The book exists within Danatallion’s domain. No need to travel to another realm.”

That was barely a constraint.

She raised a second finger. “Two: It is already contained. Meaning, you wouldn’t be releasing anything by reading it.”

I frowned. “That doesn’t mean it’s safe.”

She smirked. “You didn’t ask for safe.”

I clenched my jaw. Fine.

She lifted her third finger. “And three: You will not be forced to sign any external contracts to obtain it. Meaning, Danatallion—or any other Gatekeeper—cannot bind you in the process.”

I narrowed my eyes. That was significant.

Many of the books in Danatallion’s halls were traps. Some demanded a price before revealing their knowledge. Some bound their readers into service. Some didn’t let go once opened.

If she was guaranteeing that I wouldn’t be bound to anything else… that meant she needed me specifically to transcribe it.

Which meant—

“It’s not just about reading the book, is it?” I said slowly. “You need the transcription. You need it in a different form.”

Barbra’s grin widened. “Oh, you are sharp.”

I stared at her. “Why?”

She tilted her head. “Why do you think?”

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through my hair. Think, Alexander.

If she needed the book transcribed, that meant the original form wasn’t enough.

Which meant—

It was protected.

Some books could only be read within the halls. Some could not be copied by normal means. If she was going through me, that meant she couldn’t access it herself.

Or rather—

She couldn’t take it out of Danatallion’s domain.

I folded my hands. “So that’s it. You can’t leave with it, can you?”

Barbra gave a mocking pout. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“I’ve learned to recognize a cage when I see one.”

Her gaze flickered. Just for a second.

Then she smiled. “Clever boy.”

I took a slow breath. This was dangerous.

But also… an opportunity.

If she was offering a contract, it meant I had leverage.

So I leaned forward. “Let’s talk price.”

Barbra’s eyes lit up.

I was stepping into dangerous waters.

But if I played this right…

I might just walk away richer than I started.