The elevator they took to exit the underground line was groaning upwards like a broken breath. The lights inside the cabin flickered on every floor, and the old engines rumbled, vibrating the metal floor. Arin leaned his back against the cold wall, watching the floor numbers on the panel above but his mind was elsewhere.

He finally asked the question that had been on his mind for a while: “We’ve been intervening in these cases, but we haven’t come across a single law enforcement officer. Is that normal?”

Kael's gaze remained fixed. “Our assignments come directly from the Magical Oversight Council,” he said.

“So we're independent of official investigations?”

Kael paused for a moment. Then he nodded very slightly. “The Empire doesn't want its institutions interfering with each other. It's more efficient for everyone.”

Arin furrowed his brow and tilted his head with irony. “Or they just don’t want all institutions knowing the same truths,” he said.

Kael glanced at him. He neither confirmed nor denied it. He simply turned forward again.

The elevator finally reached the surface with the squeal of its gearwheels, and the doors slid open. A cold gust of wind rushed in. The sun was beginning to set; the sky was painted in rusty oranges and purples. As they stepped out, Arin took a deep breath; the capital's noise reached his ears even here, but it was a livable, clean sort of noise compared to the layers below.

A few staff passed by at the building’s exit, all nodding their heads respectfully toward Kael. Arin watched them from the corner of his eye. Each wore uniforms in the same muted tones, their faces tired but expressionless.

As he walked beside Kael, his voice dropped into a more pointed tone: “Why weren’t we assigned a vehicle?”

Kael didn’t stop as he answered. “The archives are within walking distance. External logistics must be requested directly from the Central.”

Arin rolled his eyes. “Then let’s request it already. We can’t keep wandering around this whole city.”

Kael didn’t reply.

As they approached the archive building, Arin somehow sensed it instinctively. Compared to other government buildings, it was plainer, but it carried an eerie grandeur, much like the stone headquarters of the Magical Oversight Council it belonged to. Its tall walls were almost smooth; the outer facade was a pale stone color but shimmered bluish or grayish depending on the light. There were almost no windows, only a massive recessed door, with an embossed symbol above it: three spirals intertwined, with a single eye in the center.

Seeing the symbol stirred unease in Arin’s chest. He was tired of seeing spiral shapes. He glanced at his ring reflexively. Thankfully, it wasn’t glowing. Azimushan was still silent. But this time, it wasn’t just silence.

He couldn’t even sense his presence anymore.

Azimushan?

“This is it,” Kael said, heading for the door. “You’ll have access to the archives. But nothing inside can be copied. And nothing can be shown to others.”

Arin nodded.

They stopped at the door. Kael pressed his finger against a small metal plate. The surface lit up instantly, and mechanical locks began unlocking with a slow grind. The door slid inward with a deep groan. Arin looked up at the sky one last time. Then he stepped into the cold darkness of the archives.

***

The corridors of the archive building were disturbingly silent. As his footsteps echoed on the stone floor, Arin felt like he was walking among the ghosts of an old world. Gray cabinets lined the vast halls. In each corridor, the lights overhead turned on only when they entered and turned off once they passed.

He still couldn’t believe there were no personnel in the whole place. “Why isn’t anyone guarding this?” he asked uneasily.

Kael moved toward a screen lit up on the far wall. “They’re all copies. The originals aren’t here. Everything’s digitally archived.”

Kael stood at the screen and entered a string of commands and search parameters. As results started to appear, Arin kept glancing around anxiously.

“This place is as quiet as a tomb,” he muttered eventually.

“Given what kind of supernatural things you deal with, your metaphors are impressively grim,” Kael said without looking away from the screen. “Sometimes I almost believe you’re just a little boy.”

Arin snorted mockingly. “I’m not a little boy, you’re just way too big for your own good. And even dangerous little boys get scared.”

Kael looked up from the screen and, for a brief moment, smiled without meaning to.

When Kael pressed a final key, mechanical clicks echoed throughout the hall. Several cabinets opened at once, but Arin couldn’t see what was inside before they quickly snapped shut. Instead, soft clicking came from a drawer beside the screen. Arin turned around on edge, but Kael looked at him and said in a calming tone, “Relax. They’re just delivering our requested files.”

He opened the drawer swiftly, pulled out several glass slides, and placed them on a digital reader next to the screen.

As the slides loaded, Arin leaned in curiously. The screen filled first with dates and symbols: intricate seals, old texts. Then a sequence of incident records appeared. Arin’s eyes scanned quickly through the lines. Some phrases seemed to leap out and carve themselves into his mind:

“…blood-sealed agreements…”

“…body must be broken before ritual is complete…”

“…the entity’s name does not appear in records…”

Arin’s chest tightened. He thought of what he’d seen: the victim’s unnatural posture, blood trapped beneath his skin, the writing... They all had a purpose. But he couldn’t see what it was.

Kael pointed at one heading: “File 009874: Lost Rituals / On Blood-Bond Experiments.”

“This,” Kael said slowly, “goes back to the last years of the Civil War. There are earlier records too but nothing after.”

“How many years apart?” Arin asked, trying to confirm his suspicion.

Kael scrolled down. “First record’s from 1133. The intervals vary, but they stopped during the Civil War era.”

Arin frowned. “Still, there must be some kind of mathematical pattern… a cycle, maybe.”

Kael nodded slightly. “If there is… it may have restarted.”

Just then, a sound rose from deep within the building; it was cold, sharp, and inexplicable, like metal striking metal or a heavy lock being dragged. They both flinched and instinctively turned around, eyes on the hallway. Kael watched and listened for a moment, tense, waiting for a signal.

Arin broke the silence. “We need to know the dates in those records!”

Kael silently turned and scrolled down the screen. “Got them,” he said.

Arin blinked. “Got what?”

“The records. They’re memorized.”

“You really are a robot, aren’t you?” Arin narrowed his eyes.

Kael turned toward him with a cold expression. “Unlike you, my memory is excellent. And no, I’m not a robot. Just certain parts are synthetic.”

Arin, noticing the irritation, smirked. “I believe you. No robot could be this grumpy.”

Just as he said it, one of the corridor lights they had passed earlier flickered on. Both turned toward it instantly. Then it turned off, only for the light in the next corridor to switch on.

Kael stepped in front of Arin, shielding him.

“What’s coming?” Arin whispered, eyes locked on the glowing light.

“No one else can enter the building while a visitor is inside,” Kael said firmly.

Arin instinctively reached for his ring and ran his fingers across the engraved Sealed Eye, but Azimushan remained silent. He was really starting to feel afraid. He was about to explain the situation to Kael when the corridor lights began flickering more rapidly.

Someone or something was moving toward them.

He called out to Azimushan one last time, almost begging but still, no answer.

“Kael, do you have a weapon?” he asked, desperation creeping into his voice.

Kael turned slightly, frowning. “No. I’m not allowed to use one. I’m just an observer.”

Arin stared. “Excuse me?”

“That means the only one armed here… is you.”

“I have bad news then. My weapon is broken.”

Kael turned to him fully, face taut with tension. “Get on my back,” he said.

“Not happening!” Arin gasped.

“If you can’t summon your jinn, we have only one option.”

Thinking of whatever was now just one corridor away, Arin acted quickly. He jumped onto Kael’s back, wrapping his arms around his neck. The faint scent of cinnamon hit his nose.

Kael crouched slightly, then, with a surge of impossible strength, leapt upward. Arin clung tighter as they landed atop one of the massive cabinet structures. He must have jumped at least five meters.

Without hesitation, Kael bounded from one towering cabinet to another, racing toward the exit. When Arin looked back, he saw that whatever was chasing them had reached the area they were just in; every light there was now on.

As they dropped to the ground, Arin slipped off Kael’s back, and they both turned to find the entrance door still sealed.

Kael pressed his finger to the same metal panel as before. The door groaned open. They burst out just as a savage, furious shriek rose from within the building behind them.