Chapter 23 - History Shouldn't Exist

The hidden door creaked open, revealing darkness.

Cool air spilled out, thick with dust and secrets.

Kieran stepped forward, following Revelle into the unknown.

The royal archives had always been a place of forbidden knowledge.

But this?

This was something deeper. Older.

Something not meant to be found.

The room was small, built of black stone.

No windows. No decorations.

Just a single stone table in the center.

And on it—a book.

Not just any book.

A leather-bound tome, its cover scarred by time.

No title. No insignia.

Just the feeling of something heavy.

Something dangerous.

Kieran exhaled.

"This is it?"

Revelle nodded.

"This is what they buried."

Kieran approached the table, brushing his fingers over the cover.

It was cold.

Too cold.

He could feel the weight of something unnatural inside.

"What is this?"

Revelle watched him carefully.

"A record of the war."

"The real war. Not the one they teach in noble halls."

Kieran's pulse quickened.

Because this was it.

This was the truth that had cost him his life.

The truth that had rewritten history.

Revelle folded his arms.

"You need to understand something, Kieran."

"Once you read this, you will know why the Keepers exist."

"Why they erased everything."

He met Kieran's gaze.

"And why they will never let you live after this."

Kieran exhaled slowly.

Then, without another word, he opened the book.

And the past, long buried, began to rise again.

The first pages were fragile, the ink faded with age.

But the words still burned.

A single passage stood out.

A passage that changed everything.

"The war was not against men."

"It was against something far worse."

"Something that never truly died."

Kieran's breath caught.

This wasn't about politics.

This wasn't about borders or noble houses.

The war they had erased had been against something else entirely.

Something that wasn't human.

Kieran turned the pages faster now, his eyes scanning the text.

The kingdom had fought against an ancient force.

A war not against rebels or rival factions—

But against shadows.

Creatures that could not be killed by steel alone.

Creatures that had been sealed away, not destroyed.

And the Keepers?

They weren't just protecting their power.

They were keeping the seal intact.

"This is why they erased it."

Revelle's voice was low, distant.

"Because if the people knew the truth—"

"If they knew the enemy still existed—"

"There would be no kingdom left to rule."

Kieran gritted his teeth.

The Keepers had spent centuries maintaining a lie.

They had rewritten history.

Erased entire bloodlines.

Killed anyone who came too close.

And for what?

"To protect the world from something worse?"

Revelle nodded.

"At least, that's what they believe."

Kieran stepped back, his hands clenched.

Everything he thought he knew—

Everything he had fought for—

Had been a fraction of the truth.

The war had never ended.

Because the enemy had never been defeated.

And now—

They were waking up again.

Near the back of the book, a final passage.

The ink was bolder, more deliberate.

A prophecy.

One that had been ignored.

One that had been forgotten.

"The seal will not hold forever."

"When the Forgotten stir once more, the one who returns shall stand at the crossroads."

"One will bring the kingdom to ruin."

"One will bring war beyond reckoning."

"And one… shall decide the fate of all."

Kieran's heart pounded.

Because the moment he read those words, he knew.

He wasn't just someone who had been erased.

He wasn't just a loose end the Keepers had failed to silence.

He was part of this.

A piece in the war they had tried to prevent.

And now?

The war was coming back.

And he was standing right in the center of it.

Revelle closed the book.

"Now you understand."

Kieran exhaled sharply.

"No. I have more questions than ever."

Revelle smirked.

"Good. That means you're still thinking."

Then, his expression darkened.

"But we don't have time to sit and ponder."

He turned toward the door.

"Because the moment you opened that book—"

"The Keepers knew."

Kieran froze.

The air shifted.

Magic rippled through the walls, silent, unseen.

An enchantment had been broken.

A failsafe.

A signal.

"They're coming."

Revelle's voice was grim.

"You need to leave. Now."

Footsteps echoed in the distance.

Not just one or two.

A dozen.

Then more.

Moving fast.

The royal archives were sealed from the inside.

There was only one way out.

And the Keepers were already blocking it.

Kieran clenched his jaw.

He had known this was a risk.

Had known he might not leave alive.

But he had learned the truth.

And if he died here, the Keepers would erase it all over again.

That wasn't an option.

Revelle grabbed something from his desk—a small glass vial.

"Smoke bomb. Distraction. It won't last long."

Kieran took it.

"And you?"

Revelle smirked.

"I'll do what I do best—disappear."

Kieran didn't question it.

Because right now, survival came first.

He pocketed the vial, pulling his hood low.

Then—

The doors to the archive burst open.

Figures in black cloaks flooded in.

Swords drawn.

Magic humming in the air.

The Keepers had come to erase him.

But Kieran?

He had no intention of being erased again.

Not this time.

Not ever.

The royal archives erupted into chaos.

Kieran moved fast.

The Keepers had blocked the exits.

More were flooding in. Silent. Precise. Deadly.

These weren't common soldiers.

These were men trained to erase problems.

And right now?

Kieran was the biggest problem in the kingdom.

A blade sliced through the air.

Kieran dodged, twisting past the first attacker.

The second came faster.

Too fast.

Steel clashed against steel as Kieran barely parried in time.

Their movements were flawless.

They weren't here to capture him.

They were here to kill him.

Immediately.

Without hesitation.

Without leaving a body to be found.

"Kieran!"

Revelle's voice snapped through the chaos.

He tossed the glass vial.

Kieran caught it, shoving it into the ground.

Smoke exploded outward.

A thick, blinding cloud.

The Keepers hesitated.

Kieran didn't.

He moved fast, weaving between the shelves.

He needed a way out.

But the main doors were sealed.

Too many guards.

Too many blades.

And the Keepers weren't making mistakes.

They were herding him.

Pushing him toward a dead end.

If they funneled him into the wrong corridor, it was over.

But Kieran had spent his entire second life escaping death.

And he wasn't about to stop now.

He reached a spiral staircase—one leading up.

Not out.

But up was better than trapped.

He took the steps two at a time.

The Keepers followed, silent as ghosts.

A dagger whistled past his ear, embedding itself into the stone wall.

He didn't slow down.

At the top of the stairs, he reached a narrow balcony.

One that overlooked the entire archive hall.

And beyond that?

A stained glass window.

His only chance.

Kieran turned just in time.

A Keeper lunged.

He barely ducked, slamming his blade into the man's ribs.

Not deep enough to kill.

But enough to make him stumble.

Enough to give Kieran a single opening.

Without hesitation, he grabbed a nearby metal candelabrum—

And hurled it through the stained glass window.

Glass shattered.

Cold night air rushed in.

And beyond the window?

A straight drop into the palace gardens.

"This is a terrible idea."

Kieran jumped anyway.

The wind ripped past him.

The Keepers rushed forward—but too late.

He crashed through a tangle of branches, hitting the ground hard.

Pain exploded through his body.

But he was alive.

And right now?

That was all that mattered.

Guards were already swarming the palace grounds.

Torches flickered.

Voices shouted.

"Find him!"

Kieran forced himself up.

His ribs ached.

His legs felt like lead.

But he ran.

Because if he stopped, he was dead.

He slipped through the hedges, cutting through the gardens.

The palace walls were too high to scale.

The gates were too well guarded.

He needed an opening.

He needed—

A shadow moved ahead.

Not a guard.

Not a Keeper.

Something else.

Someone else.

A hooded figure waiting in the dark.

And then—

"Kieran. This way."

Kieran didn't hesitate.

He followed.

Because if this was a trap?

He was already out of options.

The hooded figure moved fast.

Through the back alleys.

Through a hidden passage behind the garden wall.

Kieran's breath came ragged.

"Who the hell are you?"

The figure didn't turn.

"Someone who doesn't want you dead. Not yet."

Kieran gritted his teeth.

"That's not exactly reassuring."

The stranger chuckled.

"Then keep running, and maybe you'll live long enough to ask me better questions."

They reached a small stone doorway, half-buried under vines.

The stranger pulled it open, revealing a tunnel leading underground.

"Inside. Now."

Kieran didn't argue.

The moment he stepped in, the door slammed shut behind him.

The shouts outside grew distant.

The air grew cold.

And for the first time in hours—

Kieran wasn't running.

But something told him his problems were just beginning.

The hooded figure pulled back their cloak.

A woman.

Tall.

Sharp features.

Eyes like cold steel.

Someone Kieran had never seen before.

But someone who, judging by her expression—

Had seen him.

Had been waiting for him.

"Who are you?" Kieran asked, still catching his breath.

The woman crossed her arms.

"You've spent your whole life looking for answers, Kieran."

"It's about time you met someone who actually has them."

She smiled.

"Call me Selene."

Kieran studied her.

She wasn't a noble.

She wasn't a Keeper.

But she knew him.

She knew what he was searching for.

And she had saved him from the people who wanted him dead.

Which meant one thing.

She was part of this.

Whether he liked it or not.

Kieran exhaled.

"So, Selene. What happens now?"

She smirked.

"Now? Now we figure out just how deep this goes."

She turned, walking deeper into the tunnel.

"And we make sure the Keepers never see it coming."

Kieran followed.

Because for the first time—

He wasn't just uncovering the past.

He was rewriting it.

And the Keepers?

They were about to learn what happened when history refused to stay buried.