Rhys stood in the doorway of the dusty study, his gaze unwavering, yet somehow soft. Evelyn felt the subtle hum of his thread, bright and stable, but with faint, almost imperceptible darker strands woven through it. Not malicious, but complex. Like a secret kept for a very long time.
"My Lady, I apologize for disturbing your… exploration," Rhys said, his voice as smooth as polished stone. "Elara was concerned when she couldn't locate you. The manor can be rather disorienting to those unfamiliar with its… deeper passages."
"No apology necessary, Rhys," Evelyn replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "I simply got a bit carried away. This place is quite vast. And rather charmingly archaic." She gestured vaguely at the cobweb-draped furniture.
Rhys's eyes flickered to the desk where she had just been reading Isolde's journal, then to her cloak pocket, where the journal now rested. He knew. He definitely knew. The question was, how much? And what was his game?
"Indeed, My Lady," Rhys said, stepping further into the room. "The Summer Manor holds many layers of history. Some are quite… revealing. Others, perhaps, are best left undisturbed." He paused, his gaze meeting hers. "Did you find what you were looking for, My Lady?"
Evelyn felt a jolt. This wasn't a casual question. This was a direct probe. She decided to be cautiously honest, or at least, honest enough to prompt more information from him.
"I found… a great deal of dust," Evelyn said, a wry smile touching her lips. "And a rather aggressive security system in what appears to be the main library. It seems the Beaumonts take their literary pursuits very seriously."
Rhys's lips twitched. "The library's guardian is… zealous. It was placed there by the first matriarch herself, to protect knowledge she deemed too dangerous for the Architects' eyes. It responds to specific magical signatures, and to those who seek to disrupt the Architects' narrative. Its aggression, My Lady, is a testament to your own awakening."
Evelyn stared at him. He just casually confirmed everything. The Architects. Isolde. The guardian. He wasn't just a butler; he was an informant. Or an accomplice.
"You know about the Architects?" Evelyn asked, her voice barely a whisper. "And Isolde? And the narrative?"
Rhys inclined his head slightly. "My family has served the Beaumont line for generations, My Lady. We have been… privy to certain truths. We are the keepers of the unseen. The threads, as you might now perceive them, are not new to us."
Evelyn's Echo flared, and she saw it. A faint, almost imperceptible thread connected Rhys to a much older, deeper network of threads, one that seemed to bypass the Architect's usual manipulations. It was like a hidden current beneath the main flow. This wasn't just a single family's secret; it was a lineage of knowledge.
"So, you're saying your family are… co-conspirators?" Evelyn asked, a strange mix of relief and disbelief washing over her. "You're part of Isolde's network?"
"We are guardians of the truth, My Lady," Rhys corrected, his voice firm. "We observe. We guide. We ensure that when the time is right, the tools and knowledge are available to those who can wield them. Lady Isolde foresaw a time when the narrative would become too rigid, too stifling. She prepared for it. And you, My Lady, are the one she prepared for."
Evelyn blinked. "Me? But I'm… I was just a regular person. From another world. I just happened to read a book."
"Destiny, My Lady, works in mysterious ways," Rhys said, his eyes twinkling. "And sometimes, the most unexpected threads are the strongest. Your unique perspective, your… modern sensibilities, are an advantage. You are not bound by the Architects' narrative in the same way. You are an anomaly. And anomalies, My Lady, are the greatest disruptors."
"So, the System… that's also part of Isolde's plan?" Evelyn asked, a new thought dawning on her.
Rhys shook his head. "No, My Lady. The System is the Architects' tool. It was designed to guide individuals back onto the predetermined path, to correct 'deviations.' But in your case, something… unexpected occurred. Your transmigration was not part of their design. It was a true anomaly. And the System, in attempting to 'correct' your path, has inadvertently provided you with the means to truly break free. It is a tool, yes, but one that can be turned against its masters."
Evelyn felt a surge of understanding. The System wasn't trying to help her rewrite her destiny for her sake. It was trying to force her back onto a path, any path, within the Architects' acceptable parameters. But her very existence, her foreign nature, was disrupting its core programming. It was a glitch in the matrix, and she was the glitch.
"So, I'm a bug in their system," Evelyn said, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across her face. "I like that. A very annoying, very powerful bug."
Rhys's faint smile widened. "Indeed, My Lady. And now, you have awakened your Echo. The ability to perceive the threads. This is a crucial step. It allows you to see the Architects' manipulations, to understand their patterns."
"But the corrupted guardian in the library," Evelyn said, her smile fading. "It's still there. And it's connected to the locket, to Isolde's secrets. How do I get past it? How do I get back to the journal and the tome?"
"The guardian is a fragment of the Architects' own power, twisted and bound to protect their most vital secrets within the library," Rhys explained. "It feeds on fear and uncertainty. Its weakness lies in defiance. In the unwavering will to break free from control. And in a specific resonance."
"Resonance?" Evelyn prompted.
"The Nightbloom, My Lady," Rhys said, gesturing to her cloak pocket. "It is not merely a catalyst for awakening Echoes. It is also a key to unlocking certain ancient enchantments. The guardian, being a fragment of the Architects' power, is vulnerable to the pure, untamed magic that the Nightbloom represents. It is the antithesis of their control."
"So, I use the Nightbloom to… blast it?" Evelyn asked, picturing a magical showdown.
Rhys shook his head. "Not a blast, My Lady. A resonance. You must project your awakened Echo, channeled through the Nightbloom, into the guardian. It will disrupt its corrupted form, not destroy it, but incapacitate it long enough for you to pass." He paused. "It requires immense focus. And courage."
"Courage, I have in spades," Evelyn scoffed. "Focus is another matter when I'm screaming internally. But I'll manage." She looked at the desk, at the journal. "I need to get back to Isolde's journal. There's more to learn."
"Indeed," Rhys said. "The journal holds the true history of the Beaumont line, and the location of other hidden caches of knowledge. It also contains hints about the Grand Duke Valerius. He is a key player in the Architects' current narrative, a puppet master pulling strings for their benefit."
"I figured as much," Evelyn muttered, remembering Isolde's warning. "He's connected to the deception."
"He is," Rhys confirmed. "And his thread, My Lady, is particularly dark and twisted. Be wary of him. He is cunning, and ruthless."
"Got it. Cunning, ruthless, and probably smells faintly of ambition and despair," Evelyn said dryly. "Anything else I should know before I go poke the angry shadow monster again?"
Rhys paused, his gaze distant. "There is one more thing, My Lady. The Summer Manor itself. It is a place of ancient power. Its walls remember. Its very stones hum with the magic of the first Beaumonts. As you explore, pay attention to the subtle currents, the faint echoes of the past. They may guide you to other secrets."
"More secrets?" Evelyn groaned. "My brain is already at maximum capacity for secrets. I'm going to need a bigger hard drive."
Rhys offered her a rare, genuine smile. "You will adapt, My Lady. You always do." He turned to leave. "I will ensure you are not disturbed for the remainder of the day. Take your time. Rest. And prepare."
"Thank you, Rhys," Evelyn said, a genuine warmth spreading through her. Despite the terrifying revelations, having Rhys as an ally, a knowledgeable guide in this insane world, was a huge relief.
As he closed the door, Evelyn looked at the journal. She had a plan. A terrifying, potentially suicidal plan, but a plan nonetheless. She needed to master her Echo, understand the Nightbloom's full potential, and then face the corrupted guardian.
She pulled out the Nightbloom and held it. She closed her eyes, focusing on the threads she could now perceive. She practiced filtering them, isolating specific ones, sensing their intent. It was like learning a new language, one made of pure energy. She focused on the threads connected to the manor itself, feeling the ancient magic woven into its structure. She felt the faint, almost imperceptible threads of the Old Watchers outside, their cold, distant gaze. She felt the strong, vibrant thread of Rhys, steady and reassuring.
She spent the next few hours immersed in the journal, devouring Isolde's words. She learned about the Architects' subtle manipulations, how they used "prophetic visions" to guide key individuals, how they amplified certain magical talents to create their "heroes," and how they subtly undermined anyone who deviated from their script. It was a chilling revelation, turning the entire novel she had read into a meticulously crafted lie.
Isolde had also written about the "Nexus Points," places where the Architects' threads were strongest, where their influence was most profound. And conversely, "Blind Spots," areas where their control was weak, where true magic could still flourish, and where the Echoes could be awakened more easily. The Summer Manor, Isolde hinted, was a significant Blind Spot.
As Evelyn read, she felt a growing anger. Not just at the Architects, but at the injustice of it all. Seraphina, the original villainess, had been nothing more than a pawn, her life twisted and controlled for someone else's agenda. And countless others, heroes and commoners alike, were living out pre-written lives, unaware of the strings attached to their very existence.
She looked at her own hands, at the faint shimmer of her awakened Echo. She was a glitch. A disruption. And she had the tools to fight back.
The sun began to set, casting long, purple shadows through the dusty windows. Evelyn felt a growing sense of resolve. She was tired, but determined. The corrupted guardian awaited. And beyond it, more of Isolde's secrets.
She stood up, stretching her aching muscles. She needed food. And then, she needed to prepare. The fight for the truth was far from over. And she had a feeling it was going to involve a lot more than just reading old books. It was going to involve breaking a lot of threads. And perhaps, making some very powerful enemies. The thought, oddly enough, didn't scare her as much as it should have. It just made her more determined.