The Price of Knowledge

Chapter 34: The Price of Knowledge

The bookseller's gray eyes never wavered.

For a moment, Elias felt as if he were standing at the edge of an abyss, staring into something vast and unfathomable.

"You've heard the whispers," the old man said, his voice low and even.

Elias stiffened.

"Don't look so surprised," the bookseller chuckled. "They always lead the curious ones here. Though most don't survive long enough to understand what they've found."

Leira's hand drifted toward her dagger. "Who are you?"

The bookseller ignored her, keeping his gaze locked on Elias. "The question you should be asking is… do you truly want to know?"

A chill ran down Elias's spine.

The whispers had brought him here. The city of Vaelthorne had seemed like the right step. But now, standing in this dimly lit marketplace, faced with an old man who spoke as if he knew the secrets of the world—he realized just how little he actually understood.

But hesitation was not an option.

"Yes," Elias said. "I need to know the truth."

The bookseller's smile widened.

"Then let's discuss the price."

The bookseller led them deeper into the Twilight Exchange, past rows of strange trinkets and shadowy figures whispering in hushed tones. Finally, they stopped before a curtained alcove, hidden from prying eyes.

The old man gestured for them to enter.

Inside, a single candle burned atop a table, illuminating the dust swirling in the air.

"Before I answer your questions," the bookseller said, lowering himself into a chair, "you must offer something of value in return."

Elias frowned. "I have money."

The old man laughed. A deep, raspy sound.

"Money? Do you think I deal in gold and silver?" He leaned forward. "No, boy. Knowledge is paid for with knowledge. That is the first rule of the unseen world."

Leira crossed her arms. "And what kind of knowledge are you looking for?"

The bookseller tapped a bony finger against the table.

"A secret. A truth. Something real—that few others know." His gaze darkened. "Tell me, Elias… what do you fear most?"

A sharp silence filled the room.

Elias's breath caught in his throat. He didn't know why, but the question sent a wave of unease through him.

The bookseller was not asking. He was digging.

And in that moment, Elias understood.

This man was not just a trader of books.

He was a Seeker.

A person who dealt in hidden truths, peeling away the layers of the world one whisper at a time.

Elias's fingers clenched into fists. "I fear…" He swallowed. "I fear that something is watching me. That these whispers aren't just in my head—that they're coming from something real."

The bookseller's smile returned, but this time, it was different.

"Good," he said. "That will do."

The bookseller leaned back, his gray eyes glittering in the candlelight.

"You seek the Veiled City," he murmured. "A place that is not on any map. A place that exists beyond sight and memory."

Elias didn't speak. He simply nodded.

The bookseller exhaled softly. "The truth is… you have already seen it."

A shiver ran down Elias's spine.

"What?"

"The whispers, the glimpses, the things you cannot explain… they are not hallucinations," the old man continued. "They are invitations. Proof that the city has already taken notice of you."

Leira stiffened. "That doesn't make sense. If this city is hidden, then how—"

"Because it does not exist in the way you understand," the bookseller interrupted. "The Veiled City is not simply a place. It is an idea. A construct. A threshold between the known and the unknown."

Elias's pulse quickened. "Then how do I reach it?"

The bookseller's gaze darkened.

"You must be chosen."

Silence filled the room.

Leira narrowed her eyes. "Chosen by who?"

The bookseller smiled. "By them."

Elias felt his breath hitch. He didn't need to ask who the bookseller meant.

He already knew.

The whispers.

The unseen presence that had followed him since that night in Valesh.

The bookseller pushed back his chair and stood. "If you truly wish to enter the Veiled City, there is only one way." He reached into his robe and pulled out a black iron emblem, etched with unfamiliar symbols.

"Take this," he said, placing it on the table. "It is an invitation."

Elias hesitated, then reached out—

The moment his fingers brushed the emblem, a sharp, inhuman whisper echoed in his mind.