Chapter 26: Records of the Root
The bookstore smelled of paper and dust, its silence heavy with secrets. Adrian sat at the counter, pendant glowing faintly against his chest, while Leah leaned against a shelf, arms crossed. Isabella spread a stack of old notebooks across the table, their pages yellowed, edges frayed.
"These belonged to my grandmother," Isabella said softly. "She kept records of everything she saw, everything she heard. Most people dismissed her as eccentric. But she knew the relic was real."
Adrian leaned closer, heart pounding. The handwriting was neat but faded, the ink smudged by time. Sketches filled the margins — symbols, fragments of murals, even crude drawings of a glowing pendant. Adrian's chest tightened. It was the same relic he carried now.
"She called it the Emerald Root," Isabella continued. "She believed it wasn't just a relic. It was a seed. A fragment of something larger, buried beneath the city. Every time it appeared, it chose someone to carry it. Someone to protect it."
Leah frowned. "Protect it from what?"
Isabella's gaze hardened. "From hunters. From those who would twist it. My grandmother said the relic was tied to the balance of the city. If it fell into the wrong hands, the roots would wither. And when the roots wither, everything collapses."
Adrian swallowed hard, pendant pulsing faintly against his chest. He thought of the cavern, of the fragments humming with energy, of the voice that had echoed in his mind: Chosen vessel. Guardian of roots. Defy fate.
He whispered, almost to himself. "It's not just survival. It's legacy."
Leah stepped closer, eyes sharp. "But why now? Why you?"
Isabella flipped through the notebooks, stopping at a page filled with dates. "The relic doesn't appear randomly. It surfaces during times of upheaval. My grandmother saw it once during martial law, when the city was drowning in fear. She believed it emerges when balance is threatened."
Adrian's chest tightened. "And now it's me."
Isabella nodded. "Which means balance is breaking again."
The pendant pulsed harder, flooding the bookstore with faint emerald light. Adrian gasped, clutching it. The warmth spread through his veins, steady but urgent. He felt the weight pressing down heavier than ever.
Elias's warning echoed in his mind: Relics aren't gifts. They're burdens.
Adrian clenched his fists. "Then I need to know everything. Every record. Every story. If I'm carrying this, I need to understand what it wants."
Isabella hesitated, then pushed the notebooks toward him. "Take them. But be careful. Knowledge draws attention. Hunters aren't blind. They'll sense when you start piecing things together."
Leah's jaw tightened. "Then let them come. We'll be ready."
Adrian looked at her, then at Isabella. For the first time, he felt the threads weaving together — Elias's discipline, Leah's fire, Isabella's records. The pendant wasn't just binding him. It was binding all of them.
He whispered to himself, voice hoarse. "I'll rise. I'll uncover the truth. And I'll carry this legacy."
The pendant pulsed again, brighter than before.
And Adrian Reyes knew the path ahead wasn't just about cultivation or history. It was about balance — fragile, threatened, waiting to be defended.