Chapter 14 -The Hidden Lexicon

The dimensional stone walls faded behind him as Ashton stepped through the void. Then he materialized in the shadows of the corridor— the same corner he had left hours ago. 

The room was silent now. The breathing had settled into a low, steady rhythm. Only one lamp was still lit.

Ashton moved silently towards the room. Through the doorway, he saw Leo slumped over his work on the heavy Vorak dictionary, his face buried against the pages, his hand still clutching his half-written note.

Leo had fallen asleep in the middle of his work.

He moved closer. The desk was messy with scattered files, scratched notes, and the heavy dictionary. The five symbols Leo had deciphered were scrawled on a separate sheet, surrounded by multiple sets of crosses and circles as Leo worked out his frustration.

He works hard, Ashton thought. Harder than I thought.

The gas lamp was softly hissing as it gave off a low flame. Ashton reached out and adjusted the valve. The flame shrank and died.

Darkness filled the room. But it was not complete darkness. Through the window, the light of the Amethyst Moon still filtered in, casting a pale violet light over Leo.

He stood there, his eyes fixed on Leo. The boy's face was at peace as he slept, but there was a faint tension etched on his forehead.

Ashton draped a blanket over Leo's shoulders and then turned and left the room as silently as he had entered. 

The corridor swallowed his footsteps. By morning, no one would know he had been there.

****

In the morning, Leo awakened to the smell of dust and old paper.

His neck hurt, and his face was pressed against something hard, like leather and creases, a page of a book. He blinked, dazed with confusion, and pulled his head back from the Vorak dictionary.

Morning light streamed in through the window, bright and pale, casting light across everything: the messy files, the hasty notes, the ink on his fingers turning to dark shadows.

Leo sat up slowly. He rubbed his eyes to clear the sleep from his mind. The blanket slipped off his shoulders. He stared at it with confusion.

Someone... 

The thought flashed across his mind like a spark, and then it went out. His mind wandered to the table, to the clues he'd left himself last night.

The five symbols glared back at him.

Leo pulled a fresh sheet of paper and drew the symbols again, making them larger. He wrote what he had decoded beside each one:

☉ (Ala) — Dawn. The beginning.

▲ (Ar) — Mountain. The end.

≈ (Mer) — River. Water in motion.

☾ (Shi) — Shadow. Concealment.

ϟ (Kha) — Opens. A verb of force.

He looked at them. Five words. Five bits of information. No sentence yet.

But something was bothering him. The order of these symbols was not random. The symbols themselves had meaning. Direction.

He drew a simple compass on the piece of paper and started to arrange them.

The Vorak dictionary had hints buried in its appendices. Old footnotes. Fragments of forgotten knowledge.

So ☉ (Ala) belonged to the North.

He wrote it down:

North — ☉ (Ala) — Dawn

From there, he worked clockwise. The dictionary's scattered references gave him the rest:

East — ϟ (Kha) — Opens

South — ≈ (Mer) — River

West — ☾ (Shi) — Shadow

Back to the beginning:

North — ▲ (Ar) — Mountain

This mountain represented the end. The final destination. Where all routes would meet.

Wait…

He looked at it again. The mountain symbol, ▲, was not on the compass. It was at the center. The destination. The point where the path was leading.

He traced the clockwise path with his finger, starting from the north:

Dawn... Opens... River... Shadow... Mountain.

His breath caught.

Words were now forming, flowing, taking shape beyond a simple sentence—instantly becoming a statement.

"The dawn opens the river of shadow mountain."

Leo gazed at his page. The sentence was there, as if waiting for a key to unlock it.

A river of shadow. A mountain in darkness. And dawn—the only power to unlock it.

Leo was still staring at the phrase when the air in front of him split.

A figure materialized from nothing, as though reality itself had ripped apart and she stepped through it, sealing the tear behind her.

Leo jerked back, his chair scraping against the floor. His heart slammed against his ribs.

The woman stood there, calm as morning light. She had a beautiful face, sharp eyes, and an air of someone who had done this a thousand times before.

"Good morning," she said, smiling.

Before Leo could even try to answer, she sat down in the chair opposite him, scanning the papers on the table. She looked at his papers, then back to his notes, to the compass he'd sketched, to the five symbols he'd placed in order.

"Any luck?" she asked.

Leo opened his mouth, then shut it. He took a moment to catch his breath.

"How did you...?" Leo trailed off.

"You can call me Clara," she said, as though the simple word explained everything. She nodded her head toward his papers. "You've been here all night, haven't you? Ashton said you'd nearly solved it."

Ashton? The Captain?

Leo's mind raced. The blanket. The lamp turned off. Someone had been watching him.

"You were in my room," he said slowly. "Last night."

Clara's smile didn't waver. "Not me. But someone was."

She leaned forward, elbows on the table, and her position relaxed and became heavier with purpose.

"You found the words," she said. looked down at the words he had written.

"The dawn opens the river of shadow mountain."

"But knowing the words isn't enough," she went on. "You have to learn how to pronounce that in Vorak."

"Vorak isn't just language," she said. "It's a language that can communicate with nature. You have to be careful when you use mysticism. Everything is listening — one mistake can lure you to grave danger and corrupt you by an unknown existence."

Leo looked down at his notes. The symbols seemed heavier now. Dangerous.

"Then how do I learn?"

Clara's smile returned — softer this time. "That's why I'm here."

She reached into the air beside her, and for a moment, Leo saw the faint outline of a tear — a pocket of space that shouldn't exist. Her hand emerged holding three books, each one thicker than the last.

She placed them on the table.

"Foundations of Vorak Phonetics" — A worn primer with frayed edges.

"Rituals and the Mysticism of the Old World" — A thick volume bound in dark leather, its cover etched with faded symbols.

"Thresholds and Keys" — Heavy. Ancient. The cover bore a symbol Leo recognized — the crescent-cross from the Charwood Chapel file.

"These will teach you what the dictionary can't," Clara said. She tapped the second book. "This one is the most important. Vorak isn't just about pronunciation. It's about ritual — the structure of mysticism, how to channel power safely."

Leo reached for Rituals and the Mysticism of the Old World and opened it. The pages were dense with text, diagrams, and warnings. He caught fragments as he flipped through.

"Where did these come from?" he asked.

"The Eclipse's private catalog," Clara said. "You can't find them in the public library."

"The main library is in the east wing, third floor. "

Leo nodded.

"What's in the catalog?"

"Answers," Clara said simply. "And probably more questions." She stood, pushing her chair back. "learn the rituals carefully. You have to improve your mysticism knowledge."

She paused, her expression turning serious.

"And Leo — don't attempt anything alone. Not until you understand what you're dealing with."

Before he could respond, she stepped backward — and the air swallowed her.

Leo looked at the empty space where Clara had been.

The three books were in front of him. The map. The weight of all that he had learned.

His stomach growled.

He hadn't eaten since... he couldn't remember. The fatigue of the night before was suddenly catching up with him, the hunger, the stiff neck, the dryness in his throat.

"Rough night?"

Leo turned. A man stood in the doorway, holding a plate. He had a square jaw, messy brown hair, and the easy posture of someone who had seen enough to stop taking things too seriously.

Vincent. One of the senior members of the Eclipse. Leo had seen him around but hadn't spoken to him much.

"Captain asked me to bring you something," Vincent said, walking over. He set the plate on the table — two thick sandwiches, layers of meat and cheese between dark bread. "Thought you forgot to eat."

Leo blinked. "The Captain?"

"Ashton. The guy's got eyes everywhere."Vincent sat back down in the chair Clara had just vacated.

"Don't ask me how he knows. He just does."

Leo picked up one of the sandwiches and took a bite. The bread was dense, the meat salty. It tasted like the first real thing he'd eaten in days.

"Thanks," he said, between mouthfuls.

Vincent waved a hand. "Don't mention it. We've all been there — lost in work, forgetting our bodies exist." He glanced at the books on the table. "Vorak stuff? That's heavy reading for morning."

"It's... complicated."

Vincent nodded. "Everything here is complicated."

He stretched back in his chair and uncrossed his arms.

"You'll get used to it."

Leo noticed something in Vincent's expression that seemed almost like happiness. But there was something else behind that. Something more. A tiredness that came from seeing too much and saying too little.

"How long have you been with the Eclipse?"

Vincent's eyes drifted away from Leo and out the window.

"Seven years."

He stood and smoothed out his pants.

"Anyway. Eat up. The library's a long walk, and those books won't read themselves."

Leo watched him go, then turned back to the table.

The food settled in his stomach. The exhaustion softened, replaced by something else — anticipation.

He gathered the books. Stood.

It was time to find the library.