The moon hung low over the spires of the royal capital, its light fractured by the jagged rooftops.
Kaden adjusted the rough woolen tunic that strained against his broad shoulders, the smell of sawdust and sweat clinging to the fabric.
Beside him, Serena—now disguised as a lanky boy with a cap pulled low over her honey-brown hair—hefted a crate of scrolls, her fingers brushing the sliver of Finne's sword hidden in her sleeve.
"Remember the plan," Kaden murmured, his voice graveled by tension.
They'd spent the past hour watching the royal archives' rear entrance: two guards, a rotating patrol every twenty minutes, and a clerk who'd grumbled about "lazy apprentices" before handing them the cart of "damaged records" to store in the basement vault.
"Stick to the shadows. If anyone asks, you're mute. I'll do the talking."
Serena nodded, her eyes sharp above the cap's brim.
She didn't need to speak; the way her jaw set, the deliberate lightness of her steps—Kaden knew she'd memorized every guard's shift, every creak in the cobblestones.
The guard at the gate squinted at them as they approached, lantern light glinting off his breastplate.
"What's in the crates?"
"Moldy ledgers," Kaden said, forcing a yawn.
"Clerk said they're not worth keeping, but the archivist's got a fit if anything goes missing. Figured we'd toss 'em in the vault till morning." He knocked the crate with his boot; the scrolls inside rattled, a plausible sound of neglect.
The guard grunted, waving them through.
"Hurry up. Rain's coming, and I don't feel like getting soaked chasing runaways."
Kaden's pulse quickened as they crossed the threshold into the archives.
The air smelled of aged parchment and iron, the low hum of magic—warding spells, he guessed—tingling against his skin.
The system flared in his mind, a faint warmth: Resonance field detected.
Ancient Forging God Runes within 50 meters.
Serena's head tilted, her fingers brushing the sliver of sword again.
She mouthed "here?" and Kaden nodded.
They veered left, past rows of oak shelves stacked with leather-bound tomes, toward a spiral staircase marked "Restricted: Archivists Only."
The stairs creaked under Kaden's weight.
At the top, a heavy door bore a sigil—two hammers crossed over an anvil, the symbol of the royal smiths.
Serena pressed her palm to the wood; her breath hitched.
"Cold," she mouthed, her fingers trembling.
Kaden's throat tightened.
This is it.
He drew the sliver of sword from his pocket, the vibration from earlier flaring to a steady hum.
The system's voice cut through his thoughts: Soul Forge Tier 2 activated.
Initiate Resonance Mode.
A faint glow erupted from the sliver, casting blue light over the door.
The sigil shimmered, then dissolved.
Serena pushed the door open, and they slipped inside.
The room was small, shelves crammed with crumbling manuscripts.
Dust motes danced in the beam of Kaden's borrowed lantern.
"The letter… it was in a lead-lined box," he muttered, recalling his master's cryptic words.
"Said the archives hid more than books."
Serena's hand froze mid-reach for a scroll.
Her eyes widened, and she pointed to the far wall—a section of stone that bulged slightly, as if hiding a cavity.
Kaden stepped closer, the sliver vibrating so fiercely it burned his palm.
There.
He pried at the stone, and it swung open, revealing a niche.
Inside lay a leather-bound volume, its cover etched with runes that glowed faintly.
The Kaden realized.
The system confirmed it: Ancient, Seal level: Bloodline Lock.
Serena's fingers hovered over the book.
"Metal… moving," she mouthed, tracing the air as if following invisible currents.
She met his gaze, then gestured to his palm.
Blood.
Kaden's breath hitched.
He drew a dagger, nicked his finger, and let a drop fall onto the runes.
The blood seeped in, and the book snapped open.
Pages rustled, settling on a passage written in his master's jagged script: "Only the whole-blooded may open the furnace's door."
Below, in the same hand: Ironface Hawke.
A floorboard creaked outside.
Serena's head whipped toward the door.
Kaden's heart slammed against his ribs.
The system blared: Alert!
Advanced mental inquirers are approaching. Remaining time: 47 seconds.
He grabbed the book, shoving it into his tunic.
Serena blew out the lantern, plunging the room into darkness.
Footsteps echoed down the hall—slow, deliberate, the clink of a keyring.
"Who's in there?" A man's voice, deep and authoritative.
"Identify yourselves."
Kaden's mind raced.
The guard?
No—too calm.
A mage.
He pressed Serena against the wall, the sliver of sword still in his hand.
The system 's voice returned: Low-frequency vibration is activated to mask the source.
He focused, channeling the vibration into a low hum that mimicked the creak of old wood.
The footsteps paused.
"Must've been a rat," the man muttered.
"This place is crawling with them."
The footsteps receded.
Kaden exhaled, his shirt sticking to his back with sweat.
Serena squeezed his arm, her eyes wide with relief.
They fled the archives through a service exit, the book heavy against Kaden's chest.
In the all