Florence, the Council Chamber
Two days after Caedra's defeat
The obsidian floor beneath Esmé's boots felt colder than usual—like the Veil itself was holding its breath.
The Council stood in full assembly, their ancient robes whispering against stone as they turned toward her and Luca. In the center of the room, floating above a runic table, spun a single black shard of bone, engraved with moving text.
A sliver of the Codex.
Thorne had been seen.
Alive. Active. Digging through the shattered ruins of the Scriptorium Volturna—a forgotten fortress of lost prophecy in the west. There were whispers that he had retrieved the second fragment of the Codex.
A triad. A completion.
With three fragments, he could reshape memory. Not just illusions. Not just deception.
But truth.
Livia's voice cut the silence. "We send no army. He'll vanish the moment he senses a horde."
"He knows we're watching," added the Matron. "But he doesn't know she's coming."
All eyes turned to Esmé.
Luca's tone was calm when they were alone, but Esmé felt the iron beneath it.
"He won't face you directly," he said as they rode west beneath the stars.
"He doesn't need to," she replied. "All he needs is time."
Luca turned toward her. "Then let's take it from him."
———————————————————
The ruins of the Scriptorium Volturna lay buried beneath collapsed columns and thornbrush, its entrance hidden under a broken altar. The land around it felt untethered, as though reality had warped and stretched like worn cloth.
Esmé stepped forward, rose pendant glowing faintly.
The stones shifted under her feet.
"Do you feel that?" she asked.
"Yes," Luca murmured. "The Codex is awake."
They entered without words.
The light changed with every corridor—first silver, then violet, then black. Glyphs moved when not observed. Walls rearranged behind them. At times, Esmé saw glimpses of herself, or Luca, frozen and mirrored in nearby stone—as if memory itself was watching.
Then she saw Thorne.
He stood in the inner chamber, hands on a cracked lectern, a piece of the Codex hovering before him like an altar flame. His jaw was tattooed with moving runes, and his eyes were filled with cold patience.
"You're late," he said, without looking.
"You're rewriting things that were never yours," Esmé said.
Thorne turned. "Everything can be rewritten. That's the law of memory. The Veil forgets."
"I don't."
"Then you'll break."
The attack came instantly.
Not fire. Not shadow.
Words.
Thorne whispered a phrase, and the room convulsed. Reality fractured—splintering into multiple threads. Esmé found herself standing on a beach, then in a forest, then before her own reflection—all in a single breath.
"Where are we?" she gasped.
"Nowhere," Luca's voice came from her left—but his body was on her right. The world was warping.
"It's the Codex," he said. "He's rewriting the rules of space."
Esmé slammed her hand to the floor, drawing a sigil midair.
The world shuddered—and snapped back into one piece.
She and Luca stood in a broken circle of bone.
But Thorne was gone.
Only his voice remained.
"You've seen a piece of what I can do," he whispered.
"Next time, you won't come back."
They found only fragments in the ruins.
Burned vellum.
Ash that smelled of ink and salt.
A single line etched into the shattered lectern:
The third voice shall silence the rose.
Esmé stared at it.
Luca stepped beside her, his jaw tight.
"We underestimated him."
Esmé nodded slowly.
"No," she said. "We underestimated what the Codex can become."
————————————————————
Back in Florence, the Council convened again.
Esmé stood before them, shaken but steady.
"We can't fight him with spells alone," she said. "He's working in truth now. Or what the world believes is true. We need to understand the Codex—not destroy it."
The Matron considered her.
"Then prepare yourself," she said. "You're not just chasing him anymore."
"You're walking into history."
———————————————————
That night, Luca found her in the forge.
She stood alone, spinning a new rose in glass—this one darker, edged in silver, petals etched with memory runes.
He watched her shape it.
Quiet.
Patient.
And when she finished, she turned to him and said:
"He escaped because I hesitated. Next time, I won't."
Luca met her eyes.
"I'll be there. Whether you do or not."