Chapter 115: Archivist of Lost Tomes

Ignis’s golden eyes widened with alarm as she saw Adam wince and press a hand to his temple.

“Adam! You’re in pain—are you okay?!”

Lilith was already there, silk handkerchief still gently dabbing the last traces of blood from beneath his nose. Her voice, though calm, carried a rare edge of worry.

“Is it the curse’s backlash? Did touching her soul affect you?”

Adam forced a small, reassuring smile, waving off their concern even as the lingering throb pulsed behind his eyes.

“I’m fine. Just a little dizzy. Nothing serious.” He straightened, rolling his shoulders. “Come on—let’s all get some rest. We’ve earned it.”

Philip, still catching his breath from the night’s chaos, let out a tired chuckle. “I’m about ready to drop myself. Bed’s calling louder than any alarm bell right now.”

They walked back to the cottage in quiet companionship, the village slowly settling into uneasy peace. Doors closed softly behind them. Torches guttered out. Only the moon and the faint glow of hearth fires remained.

Inside the warm house, Aish had already prepared extra blankets and pillows. No one spoke much—exhaustion did the talking. They collapsed into their beds, the night’s violence fading into heavy, dreamless sleep.

Morning arrived with soft sunlight filtering through the windows and the smell of fresh bread and porridge.

Breakfast was quiet but warm. Aish bustled about, insisting they eat well before the road. Philip watched them with a fatherly fondness that hadn’t been there when they first arrived.

As they finished and began gathering their few belongings, Ignis leaned toward Adam, voice low.

“Those two—the princess and the knight—they’re going to want to talk to you. They kept staring last night.”

Adam nodded, expression firm. “We don’t have time. Alice is still fading inside me. Every hour counts. We can’t get dragged into royal problems.”

Philip overheard and smiled sadly. “You’re good people. Better than most. Thank you—for everything. For saving the village… and for giving my Aish back her strength.”

Aish stepped forward, eyes shining. She took Adam’s hand, then Ignis’s and Lilith’s in turn.

“You will always have a home here. Whenever the road brings you west again… the door is open.”

Adam bowed slightly. “Thank you—for the hospitality, the food, the kindness. We won’t forget it.”

Ignis grinned, though her eyes were a little misty. “Best breakfast ever. And the beds! So soft!”

Lilith inclined her head with quiet grace. “Your home carried warmth we rarely find. We are grateful.”

They stepped outside into the crisp morning air, cloaks adjusted, packs light. The village was already stirring—children peeking from windows, farmers heading to fields—but the trio moved toward the eastern road with purpose.

They had barely taken ten steps when hurried footsteps pounded behind them.

“Wait! Please—wait!”

The armored knight came running, helmet off, short blonde hair disheveled, face pale with desperation. She skidded to a stop in front of them, breathing hard.

“Her Highness… Princess Elise… she wishes to speak with you. Please. Just for a moment.”

Adam stopped, expression flat. “We have more important matters to attend to. I’m sorry.”

The knight’s shoulders sagged, but she didn’t back down. She dropped to one knee—armor clanking against the dirt road—head bowed.

“I beg you. She’s awake now, barely, but she insists. She says she owes you her life twice over. Please… just hear her out.”

Her voice cracked on the last word.

Ignis shifted uncomfortably. Lilith’s gaze flicked to Adam, waiting.

Adam exhaled through his nose, irritation warring with reluctant pity.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But only for a moment.”

The knight’s face lit with desperate gratitude. She rose quickly, almost stumbling in her haste.

“Thank you. This way—please.”

She led them back toward the village hall, where the princess waited.

The village hall had been hastily converted into a makeshift sickroom. Sunlight streamed through narrow windows, catching motes of dust above the simple cot where Princess Elise lay propped against pillows. Her golden hair had been gently brushed and braided by village women, but the pallor of her skin and the faint dark veins still visible beneath it spoke of the curse’s lingering grip.

She looked up as Adam entered, followed closely by the knight—whose name, Adam now knew from Philip’s quiet explanation, was Seraphina—and then Ignis and Lilith at a respectful distance.

Elise’s eyes were a soft storm-gray, sharp despite her weakness. They studied Adam with quiet intensity—not fear, not awe, but something in between: recognition, perhaps, of one predator sizing up another.

Seraphina bowed stiffly. “Your Highness… he came.”

Elise inclined her head slightly, the movement graceful even in exhaustion. Her voice, when she spoke, was soft but carried the weight of someone accustomed to being heard.

“Adam,” she began, testing the name as though it might reveal more than letters. “Thank you… for last night. And for this morning. I felt the moment the curse recoiled. It was… your presence, wasn’t it?”

Adam stood near the foot of the cot, arms loosely crossed. He didn’t bow—didn’t feel the need to—but he met her gaze directly.

“You’re welcome. But if you’re going to thank me, save it for when the curse is actually gone. What happened last night was temporary.”

Elise’s lips curved—just the barest hint of a smile, tinged with something bitter.

“Temporary is all I’ve known for years.” She paused, studying him again. “You are not human. Not entirely.”

It wasn’t a question.

Adam didn’t flinch. “Perceptive.”

“I have to be,” she said quietly. “The curse makes me… sensitive. To things that don’t belong. Your aura is wrong. Like something ancient wearing a human skin.”

Seraphina tensed, hand twitching toward her sword, but Elise raised a weak hand to stop her.

“Peace, Sera. If he wanted us dead, we would be.”

She turned back to Adam, gray eyes steady despite the tremor in her voice.

“I did not call you here for gratitude alone. I called you because… I believe you might be the only one who can truly understand what this feels like.”

Adam raised an eyebrow. “What what feels like?”

“Losing yourself,” she answered simply. “Piece by piece. Every day waking up and wondering how much of the person you were is still left. Knowing the thing that hunts you isn’t just an enemy—it’s become part of you. A parasite you carry in your blood, in your soul. Something that makes people look at you with pity… or fear.”

The room grew very quiet.

Adam felt the words strike something buried deep. Memories of waking up as a hatchling viper. Of losing hands, legs, voice. Of becoming something monstrous and telling himself it was necessary for survival.

He exhaled slowly.

“I understand,” he said, voice low. “More than you know.”

Elise’s gaze softened—not with pity, but with the quiet relief of someone who had finally found another person who spoke the same language of loss.

“I don’t want your pity,” she continued. “And I won’t beg for your help. But if there is even a chance you can break this curse—truly break it, not just suppress it—I would owe you my life. Not as a princess. As a person who refuses to be prey forever.”

Adam studied her for a long moment. The defiance in her eyes. The guarded kindness. The cold anger she kept locked behind perfect poise.

“You’re awfully quick to trust a stranger who just fought off a lich,” he said, voice calm but edged. “Before we talk about anything… I have a few questions. ”

Elise’s gray eyes didn’t waver. If anything, they sharpened—respectful, but not intimidated.

“Ask,” she said simply.

Adam’s first question came without hesitation.

“Why is the Deathless King suddenly chasing you in Solaria’s territory? Last I heard, Melium is half a continent away. And why only one guard? A princess should have a whole retinue.”

Seraphina stiffened, hand twitching toward her sword hilt, but Elise raised a pale hand to stop her. The princess’s voice remained soft, yet carried a quiet steel.

“I will answer,” she said. “Both of you deserve that much.”

She took a slow breath, as though gathering the weight of years.

“I am the legitimate heir—firstborn of the true bloodline. My younger siblings… do not share that legitimacy. The throne has always been contested, but my existence makes it impossible for them. As long as I live, uncursed or not, I am the lawful successor. That makes me inconvenient.”

Her gaze dropped to her hands, fingers curling slightly.

“The curse was never meant for me alone. It was passed down the royal line—punishment from the Deathless King for the ancient sealing. When I was born, it claimed me fully. My siblings saw opportunity. They… encouraged the lich’s pursuit. Made sure I was isolated. My retinue was stripped away piece by piece—’accidents,’ ’desertions,’ ’necessary reallocations.’ Seraphina is the only one who refused to abandon me.”

Seraphina’s jaw clenched, eyes burning, but she remained silent.

Elise continued, voice steady despite the tremor beneath it.

“We fled west, toward Solaria. There is a wanderer here—a man known as the Archivist of Lost Tomes. He has no title, no court, no allegiance. But his knowledge of ancient curses, forbidden magics, and soul-binding rituals is unmatched. If anyone can tell me how to truly break this curse—not suppress it, but end it—I believe it is him.”

Adam’s expression didn’t change, but inside, a quiet spark ignited.

’The Archivist of Lost Tomes…’

’If he knows curses, soul bindings… maybe he knows something about void corruption. Maybe he can help Alice.’

He kept the thought to himself, face impassive.

Lilith spoke next, voice cool and precise.

“Then why this route? The main trade road from Melium to Solaria is faster and better guarded. Why stray into these backwoods?”

Seraphina answered this time, voice thick with barely-contained rage.

“Because of him.” She spat the word like poison. “The lich. He’s been hunting us for months. Every time we took the main roads, his forces ambushed us—undead, mercenaries he paid, even traitors in our own ranks. We lost everyone. One by one. We were forced off the path, deeper into the wilds, running blind. Last night was the closest he’s ever come. If not for you…”

She trailed off, fists clenched.

Elise looked at Adam again, gray eyes clear and unflinching.

“I did not choose to bring this danger to Elden Hollow. I never would have. But when the lich forces you off every safe road… there is no clean path left. We ran here because there was nowhere else to run.”

Adam exhaled slowly through his nose.

He didn’t speak for a long moment.

Then:

“You’re carrying a walking catastrophe on your back. And you ran straight into a defenseless village with it.”

It wasn’t an accusation—more an observation, flat and factual.

Elise didn’t flinch.

“I know,” she said quietly. “And I hate it. Every day I hate it. But running forever isn’t living. Hiding isn’t surviving. I want this curse gone.”

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