That same night, I stayed in the guest wing of the Great Library. A night under their roof was part of my reward for retrieving the copper egg for them, even if it was just an artifact and not a relic.

I awoke to a hum coming from within my own ribcage. My heart’s every vessel quivered, and the hairs on my chest stood on end.

I sat up and rubbed my sternum, trying to make the hum go away. I beat on my breast three times and it did not leave me. Ten more, and it was still there.

So, I donned a robe and took my silver-edge from its spot under the window, where it had been drawing power from the moon’s light. If the trembling around my heart was the call of Zahac I would stand no chance of defeating him, even with an Ancient sword. But it still made me feel better to be armed with a little magic.

The halls of the Great Library were dark, every candle snuffed out because no one wanted to risk an unwatched spark finding its way to the scrolls. I knew that if I brought with me any light I would draw the masters’ questions. Considering that Lavan had warned me not to spread ‘wild rumors’ about the egg, I’d have no good explanation to the guards if I was caught approaching it at night.

Fortunately, the guards did not care about drawing attention to themselves.

I reached the bottom of the spiral staircase and saw white light down the corridor, emanating from the glowing stone in the forehead of a guard’s cap. The light shimmered and danced on the library’s quartz walls, reflecting a every color my eyes knew. In his hand, the guard held an iron-edge, which shone blood red in the fuller.

The hum in my heart grew stronger, and my breathing grew ragged.

Fortunately, the guard on patrol was walking away from me at the time, so, with my body close to the ground, I scurried past to hide behind one of the scroll shelves.

The forty-million scrolls of the Great Library sat behind a grate made of iron bars with Ancient runes. Arcs of red lightning danced in the gaps, daring anyone foolish enough to try to reach in and take a scroll.

But this level of security was actually rather silly, because a real burglar would pick the much simpler lock and open the case.

Noting this as I passed made me realize that I’d left all my own lockpicking tools back in my quarters. If I was to get near the egg and discover the source of the hum in my chest, I could only hope they did not put it behind red bars yet.

Ahead, I could see that I would no longer have the cover of the bookcases to hide me from the guards’ light. There, white rays shone upon the floor, separating the shadows where I could stay hidden.

A gap between shadows.

Crossing it was as dangerous as jumping across a ravine. The punishment for burglarizing the Great Library was death by crucifixion. If I was caught, they’d assume me a thief. Only when that thought struck me did I forget why I’d decided this trek to the museum wing was worth it.

The light still shone in front of me, so I knew the guard had not looked away. But I noticed a steady, rocking rhythm of the light, accompanied by a sound like gravel in a grain mill.

Is he asleep on the job?

I held out my silver-edge and angled it so the tip could act as a mirror and allow me to peer around the corner. I’d risk the guard laying eyes on it, but it was better than sticking my head out there. In the blades reflection, I saw that the guard was facing the other way at the moment, and slumped against a pillar.

Is he asleep?

I slipped through the field of light, and into the corridor which led to the museum wing. The room was almost pitch-black, but I could hear the high-pitched ringing in my ears, as before. It was just as piercing, just as cruel. The hum in my chest was an army of drummers all slightly out of time with each other.

Down the corridor, I arrived at the museum wing. Countless colorful baubles and trinkets sat behind red bars. Sapphires carved into the shape of dolphins. Emeralds that looked like manticore eyes. Goblets encrusted with pearls. Each rested behind a sign explaining what the masters thought the artifact meant in as few words as possible. At times, I wondered how the artists who created these beautiful works might have felt to have their masterpieces summed up so simply as “Ancient Jewelry.”

Even in the low light of the museum wing, my eyes quickly found their way to the copper egg, and my chest pulsated, as if my heart were trying to reach out and grab the treasure. The egg had been placed behind red bars, but they had been melted away at the center, and a pool of solid iron lay on the floor. The egg lay unprotected, an easy target for any thief to come in and take.

Or, for me to destroy.

I held out my silver-edge and ran my thumb over the crimson lac stone at the center of the cross-guard. The fuller in the center of the blade illuminated with white light.

Dread grasped both my hands and shook them more fervently with every step I took nearer to the artifact.

Crack!

A line split down the middle of the copper egg, and my heart leaped into my throat. I wanted to cry for help, but with my heart blocking my vocal cords it was impossible. My weapon raised high above me in my hand, ready to strike a feeble blow against the abomination I’d brought up from the ruins.

The two halves of the shell fell away, filling the room with steam. I shielded my eyes from the intense heat as it billowed past me and out of the room. Sparks sputtered from the fuller of my silver-edge.

And I heard a baby cry.

When I dared to open my eyes again, I peered down at what had been hidden inside the copper shell. A bowl as big as a miner’s helmet sat upon the floor. In it lay a newborn baby boy, his body engulfed in orange gel.

I lowered my weapon.

While I’d readied myself for a fierce, albeit short, battle with Zahac, nothing had prepared me for that moment, staring down at a weeping infant. I don’t remember the thoughts that went through my head, but in an instant I scooped up the child in my arms and rocked him gently.

At the time, I denied it to myself. I knew who the child was. I understood the destruction I was sure to unleash on the world. But when he stopped crying, he looked up at me with the azure eyes of an innocent babe. Eyes which looked at me in a way no one ever had.