The Syndicate's broadcast ended, but its poison lingered in the air. The fragile hope in the chamber curdled into a new, sharper fear. The Council was a known enemy, a brutal fist. The Syndicate was a smiling thief in the night.
The big mechanic, Roric, was the first to find his voice. "So we trade one master for another? What's the difference?"
"The difference is choice," Kaelen said, though the words felt inadequate. "The Council took by force. The Syndicate will use desperation. If people are hungry, if they're afraid, they'll sell their most precious things just to survive."
Valeria had been quietly assessing their situation. "He's right. The Syndicate moves fast. They'll have agents here within the hour, trying to seize the central node—this chamber. Our position is defensible, but we have no trained fighters, no real weapons."
"We have the truth," Lyssa said, her voice small but firm. She stood a little closer to Kaelen, a flicker of her old defiance returning.
"Truth doesn't stop a neural-dampener," Valeria countered bluntly. "We need a perimeter. We need scouts. We need to know what's coming." She looked at Kaelen, her gaze intent. "You can feel the city. Can you see them? The Syndicate forces?"
Kaelen closed his eyes, letting his consciousness expand. The city was a tapestry of panic, confusion, and pockets of strange, aggressive order. He pushed past the fading signals of the Mnemonic Guard, past the swirling emotions of the populace, and found what he was looking for: disciplined, focused minds moving with clear intent. They were converging from the industrial sectors, armed with advanced, non-regulation weaponry. Suppressors that could cloud the mind, synaptic lances that could induce temporary paralysis. Tools for capture, not kill.
"They're coming," Kaelen confirmed, his eyes snapping open. "Dozens of them. They're not trying to destroy the place. They want to take it intact."
"To control the Library," Valeria breathed. "To become the sole vendors of memory." She turned to the few loyal guards who had clustered around her. "You heard him. Barricade the main entrances. Use the environment. Conduit panels, console housings—anything for cover."
The guards, looking to her for leadership, sprang into action. But they were just a handful.
Kaelen looked at the crowd of former Hollows and conditioned workers. They were teachers, mechanics, clerks, and artists. They were not soldiers. The thought of asking them to fight made him sick.
He didn't have to.
Roric, the mechanic, picked up a heavy metal pipe that had been shaken loose from the ceiling. "They're not taking my brother's memory," he growled. "Not from me. Not again."
A woman who had been a archival scribe stood up, her hands clenched. "They want to put a price on my daughter's first steps? Let them try."
One by one, they stood. Not with the disciplined precision of Valeria's guards, but with a raw, desperate courage that was far more powerful. They were defending the only thing they had just gotten back: themselves.
Kaelen felt their resolve like a rising tide. He was their Librarian, and they were his living books. He would not let them be stolen.
"Valeria," he said. "They're your troops. But they're my people. No one gets hurt unless there is no other way."
She gave a curt nod. "Understood. We'll aim to disable." She began directing the volunteers, showing them how to create chokepoints, where to aim their makeshift weapons to maximize shock without causing permanent harm.
Lyssa tugged at Kaelen's sleeve. "And what about you? What will you do?"
Kaelen looked towards the sealed main entrance, feeling the approaching Syndicate agents like a gathering storm.
"I'm going to talk to them," he said.
Valeria spun around. "That's a suicide mission. Their leader will have a psychic damper. They'll capture you the moment you step out."
"I'm not stepping out," Kaelen said. A plan, both brilliant and terrifying, was forming in his mind. It was a use of his power he hadn't considered before. "I'm going to bring their leader in."
Before anyone could protest, he focused. He reached through the network, past the advancing troops, and found the mind leading them. It was sharp, greedy, and shielded—but no shield was perfect against a direct invitation from the source itself.
He didn't try to break in. He crafted a message, a single, compelling thought, and sent it directly to that one mind, bypassing its defenses with the gentle insistence of a key turning in a lock.
The Librarian wishes to negotiate. Enter alone. The fate of the Syndicate's future awaits.
He then gave a single, mental command to the main door. It hissed open just wide enough for one person to enter, then slammed shut again.
Silence descended. The volunteers held their breath, their makeshift weapons trembling.
Seconds ticked by. Then, a figure stepped through the opening.
He was tall, dressed in a sleek, dark grey suit instead of armour. He carried no visible weapon, but his gloved hands crackled with faint energy. His face was sharp and intelligent, his eyes calculating as they scanned the room, taking in the ragtag defenders, Valeria's guards, and finally, landing on Kaelen.
"So," the man said, his voice as smooth as his broadcast. "You're the asset that broke the world." He smiled, a cold, predatory expression. "My name is Silas. And I believe we can do business."