บททั้งหมดของ THE ARCHIVISTS PAWN: REBIRTH OF THE BURIED QUEEN: บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

Elara Thorne Five Years Later (Cian is 10, Mina is 7) The sound of clashing wood echoed through the courtyard of the Thorne Manor. It wasn't the heavy, bone-breaking sound of steel on steel that used to haunt my dreams. It was light and sharper. I sat on the porch, a basket of summer berries in my lap, watching the three people I loved most in the world. Cian, now ten years old, had grown tall and lean, mirroring his father’s build. He moved with a natural grace that was almost scary. In his hand was a practice sword made of heavy oak. Across from him stood Kaelen, looking as strong as ever, though there were a few more silver hairs at his temples that he claimed were "earned by stress." "Focus, Cian," Kaelen said, parrying a quick strike from the boy. "Your feet are too wide. If I were a real enemy, I’d have tripped you already." "But I’m faster than a real enemy!" Cian chirped, lunging forward again.While the boys were busy with their "serious" training, a smaller figure was

Elara Thorne The air in the library felt heavy, not with the dust of old ledgers, but with the weight of leaving. Philip sat in his favorite leather chair, his sightless eyes fixed on the fireplace. He looked smaller than I remembered, yet more sturdy, like a mountain that had weathered a thousand winters. "You're sure about this, My Lady?" Philip asked. His voice was soft, but it lacked the tremor of fear. "We don't have a choice, Philip," I said, packing a small trunk with warm sweaters and the children's favorite books. "Cian nearly lifted the kitchen table this morning because he wanted the jam. And Mina... she turned the bathwater into bubbles without using any soap. It’s growing too fast." I walked over and knelt by his chair. "I wouldn't leave if I didn't trust you more than anyone else in this world."Philip reached out, his hand finding my shoulder. His grip was surprisingly strong. "I was an auditor for the Vance family for forty years, Elara. I know how to keep a house

Kaelen Thorne "To the horses! Now!" the Silver Weaver commanded. Her voice wasn't a whisper anymore; it was a crack of a whip. I didn't waste a second. I scooped up Mina and tossed her onto the lead horse, while Elara grabbed Cian. We couldn't take the wagon, it was too slow, a wooden box in a desert full of glass-toothed hunters. "Leave the supplies!" I shouted as I cinched the saddles. "Just take the water and the children!" Behind us, the dunes were moving. It wasn't the wind. The Sand Stalkers were closing in, their long, spindly legs clicking rhythmically against the hard packed earth. In the moonlight, they looked like a forest of moving needles.We kicked the horses into a gallop. The Silver Weaver led the way, her sand-colored silks flying behind her like a banner. She wasn't riding a horse; she was gliding just inches above the ground, her feet churning the sand into a golden mist. "Stay in my wake!" she yelled over the roar of the wind. "The sand I stir will hide your s

Elara Thorne "We aren't going to a coronation," Kaelen said, his voice dropping to that dangerous, low frequency that used to make the Southern lords tremble. He stepped in front of Cian, his body shielding our son from the Southern general’s gaze. "The Queen will be... disappointed," the general said. His voice sounded like it was being filtered through a jar of coins. He didn't move to attack; he simply stood there, a living statue of debt. "But time waits for no one, Duke Thorne. Especially not for your son." The general turned and walked out of the temple, his footsteps leaving faint, inky stains on the white marble. I ignored him. I ran to the pedestal where the candle had burned. The wax was no longer white; it had turned into a dark, translucent substance that looked like an hourglass. Inside the wax, tiny golden grains, Cian’s seconds, were slowly falling from the top to the bottom. "How do we stop it?" I demanded, looking at the Silver Weaver. "You said this was a s

Kaelen Thorne Back at the Temple, the air had turned as still as a tomb. I was standing in the courtyard, watching the sunset, when the feeling hit me, a cold, oily sensation at the base of my neck. It was the feeling of a predator nearby. I spun around, my hand flying to my belt, but there was nothing there but the silver leaved trees. "Cian? Mina?" I called out. Cian was sitting by the reflection pool, his face pale from the day’s training. He looked up, his brow furrowed. "Papa? I can't hear Mina's heart anymore." My blood turned to ice. Mina had a "loud" heart, always thumping, always running. I sprinted toward the temple steps, my boots echoing against the silk stone. I burst into the small room where she had been napping. The bed was empty. On the pillow sat a single, shimmering object. It was a dragon scale, polished until it shone like a mirror. But when I picked it up, it didn't feel like bone. It felt like a cold, metal coin. "The Weaver!" I roared. The Silver Weave