Chapter 27

Garrick brought his ankles down on the floor with a loud thud. The sudden noise made me jump. Justice and I turned to face him, our hands instinctively reaching for our weapons.

"I told you what the inscription said," Garrick growled, his eyes flashing with barely contained rage. "Now untie me, as you promised."

Justice and I glanced at each other. I saw the doubt and mistrust in his gaze, the unspoken question. Can we really let him go?

"I think we should leave him tied up." Justice's hand still rested on the hilt of his sword. "I don't trust him not to turn on us the moment he's free."

I hesitated, weighing the options in my mind. Justice was right to be cautious. Garrick had already proven himself a formidable and unpredictable adversary. Yet, at the same time, he had upheld his part of the bargain. If we were going to navigate the dangers of the Archives and unravel the Grimoire's curse, we might need his knowledge and power on our side.

"He helped us with the inscription, Justice," I finally pointed out, making my decision. "We can't leave him here. Cut the binds off his ankles but leave his hands tied. We'll bring him with us."

Justice frowned, clearly unhappy with the idea. But he trusted my judgment. With a curt nod, he knelt and sawed through the ropes around Garrick's ankles with his dagger.

Garrick watched him work, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "How magnanimous of you," he drawled. "The great heroes, deigning to show mercy to their fallen foe."

I met his gaze steadily, refusing to rise to the bait. "Don't mistake this for mercy, Garrick. We're bringing you with us because we need you. Make no mistake, if you give us any reason to doubt your loyalty, any hint of betrayal, we won't hesitate to put you down."

The smile fell from Garrick's face, replaced by a cold, calculating look. "Understood," he replied softly, and I knew the true battle for his allegiance had only begun.

As Justice finished freeing Garrick's ankles, I returned my attention to the painting and the cryptic inscription that set us on this path.

I could only hope that in the end, my decision to trust Garrick, even a little, wouldn't be our undoing.

Justice grabbed Garrick's arm and hauled him to his feet. "Now, come on…king," he stated, the last word dripping with sarcasm.

Garrick stumbled slightly, his bound hands making it hard to keep his balance. "I am the king," he grumbled.

I stepped forward, positioning myself in front of Garrick so he had to meet my gaze. The flickering light of the Archives cast strange shadows across his face, making him look older, wearier.

"You told us the inscription." I kept my voice steady. "What do you think that means?"

A hint of a smirk played at the corner of Garrick's mouth, and he shook his head. "It's so simple. I'm surprised you can't figure it out."

Justice's hand tightened on Garrick's arm, and he gave him a rough shake. "Don't play games, Your Highness." The words were heavy with warning and barely restrained anger.

Garrick rolled his eyes, the picture of regal disdain despite his disheveled state. "You need to find three statues that are based on either a painting, a book, or a door. The inscription speaks of the chosen one who can find the way forward. And for some unfathomable reason…" His gaze locked with mine, intense and unsettling. "Sawyer is our chosen one."

A chill ran through me at his words. Me, the chosen one? It seemed impossible, yet I was the one with the visions, and they had guided us through the heart of the Archives.

Justice's response was immediate and vehement. "She's not going alone."

Garrick shrugged, the movement awkward with his bound hands. "Then you don't get the prize, vampire," he remarked as if it were a matter of unquestionable fact.

I looked between them, seeing the battle of wills playing out in their eyes. Justice, fierce and protective, ready to fight tooth and nail to keep me safe. Garrick, calculating and cryptic, holding the keys to knowledge but always at a price.

The path ahead would be difficult and dangerous, full of impossible choices and uncertain alliances. But I knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that I couldn't turn back now.

The inscription had named me as the chosen one. For better or worse, this was my destiny.

I squared my shoulders and met Garrick's gaze. "Tell us more about these statues." My voice rang with a new note of command. "And what exactly is the prize we're supposed to claim?"

Garrick sighed. "I honestly don't know. You'll have to trust your instincts. After all, you're the chosen one."

The urge to throttle Garrick was almost overwhelming. My fingers twitched with the desire to wrap around his infuriatingly smug neck. Before I could act on the impulse, another sound echoed through the massive space of the library, bouncing off the towering shelves and ancient tomes.

It was a sound that didn't belong, a discordant note in the silence of the Archives. A scraping, shuffling noise, like something heavy dragging across the stone floor. Beneath it, a low, guttural moan raised the hairs on the back of my neck and sent a chill down my spine.

Justice, Garrick, and I exchanged wary glances. Our differences and hostilities were forgotten, subsumed by the shared realization that we were no longer alone in this place.

"Maci?" Justice mouthed, his hand already reaching for his sword.

I shook my head, a sinking feeling in my gut. Whatever was making that sound, I knew it wasn't the shadow dragon. This was something else, something darker and more sinister.

Garrick's eyes widened, his face pale in the guttering light of the Archives. His aristocratic composure seemed to crack, revealing a glimpse of genuine fear.

The sound came again, louder this time, closer. It was the only prompting we needed to move, our bodies galvanized into action by the primal instinct to survive. We searched the main floor, hunting for the statues.

Yet, as the minutes ticked by and the sounds grew closer, a sinking realization dawned on me. There were no statues pressed together, no sign of the cryptic markers that were supposed to lead us to the chosen one's path.

Frustration welled inside me, hot and bitter, threatening to choke me with its intensity. Had Garrick lied to us? Was this all a twisted game, a trap designed to lure us to our doom?

As the doubts and fears swirled in my mind, I knew I was far from giving up. I had come too far and sacrificed too much to let this setback defeat me.

"We need to move to the second floor," Justice suggested.

Garrick tried to break away from Justice's iron grip. "That's where whatever is making the sound is."

"Come on, chickenshit," Justice grumbled.

I wanted to say I didn't care, but my knocking knees told a different story. I wanted to find this object and get us all out of here.

I led the way to the second floor. As I pushed open the creaky wooden door at the top of the stairs, a gust of cool, stale air washed over me, carrying the scent of old parchment, dried ink, and something else. Something darker and more primal. A shiver ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.

The second floor was even more dimly lit than the main level, the only illumination coming from a single stained-glass window set high in the far wall. The glass was a deep, rich blue with swirls of shimmering purple and black. In the center of the window was a symbol I didn't recognize, a complex knot of lines and curves that appeared to twist and change the longer I looked at it.

Dust lay thick on every surface, muffling our footsteps as we moved cautiously into the room. The shelves here were taller, the books older and more ornate. Many were bound in strange materials, not only leather but also what looked like scales, feathers, and even thin sheets of hammered metal.

As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I noticed other oddities. A skull perched atop a stack of tomes, a series of ancient maps pinned to the walls, a large brass globe that seemed to track the movements of unknown constellations. This place was a treasure trove of esoteric knowledge.

I couldn't let myself get distracted by the mysteries that surrounded us. We had a mission, a purpose, that brought us to this eerie and unsettling place. Somewhere on this floor, hidden among the dusty shelves and forgotten artifacts, were the statues that would lead us to the next step in our quest.

I inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart and the prickling of my skin. I was the chosen one, the key to unraveling the Grimoire's curse. I had to stay focused and brave in the face of the unknown.

"Let's split up." My voice sounded unnaturally loud in the hushed stillness of the second floor.

Justice shook his head. "No."

The look in his eyes said he wasn't compromising on that declaration.

I didn't argue. Instead, I tilted my head to move. As we headed deeper into the shadowy recesses of the Archives, I couldn't shake the feeling we were being watched, that some unseen presence was tracking our every move. Still, I focused on the task at hand.

The statues were here somewhere. I simply had to find them before whatever lurked in the darkness found us.