Chapter 6: The Release
553 Words
For the briefest of seconds, time slowed. The moment Alex extended the obsidian disc toward the charging man in the blue vest, everything changed.
There was no blinding light, no dramatic explosion. Instead, reality around him shivered.
A pulse radiated outward from the disc, invisible but undeniable. The man lunging toward him froze mid-stride, his face contorting in confusion and then pain. His body collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut, slamming to the floor in a heap. A faint, crackling distortion hung in the air for a heartbeat longer, then vanished.
The other “librarians” stopped instantly.
They looked at Alex – or more precisely, at the disc in his hand. Their expressions were no longer those of predators. Now they resembled animals faced with a fire they didn’t understand. The one who had issued the earlier command muttered something in that guttural, alien tongue, his voice low and tense. Then, one by one, they retreated. Fast. Purposeful. Avoiding eye contact.
Within moments, the reading gallery was empty again, save for Alex and the man lying motionless at his feet.
Alex stood frozen, breath ragged, hands trembling. He stared at the disc. Its surface was still glowing faintly, the lines warm like embers, but whatever energy had burst forth now seemed dormant again.
He backed away from the body on the floor, unsure whether the man was dead, unconscious… or something else entirely. Sirens weren’t blaring. No alarms had gone off. The other patrons in nearby sections were still reading quietly, seemingly oblivious. Had no one seen anything? Or had the “Silent Hand” distorted reality in more ways than one?
Alex didn’t wait to find out.
He tucked the disc back into his coat, grabbed the stolen pages from Arcady’s collection tighter, and slipped out of the gallery.
This time, he didn’t run. He walked quickly, calmly, past the front desk, nodding at the security guard, exiting into the sunlit chaos of the city.
Only when he turned a corner and ducked into an alley did he allow himself to breathe again.
He leaned against the wall, heart still thudding, mind racing. The disc responded to danger—to him. But he wasn’t in control. Not yet.
He looked down at the pages.
One sketch now stood out more than ever: a circular diagram, almost identical to the disc itself, surrounded by strange symbols. And a phrase, scribbled beside it in desperate handwriting:
“To awaken the Eye beneath the city, follow the Echo Spiral. Three Resonance Points must be activated. The first lies beneath the oldest root.”
Alex whispered the phrase out loud. Beneath the oldest root?
He pulled out his phone and searched. In old maps of New York, “the oldest root” of the city was often referred to as the area near Castle Clinton in Battery Park — the original fortification of New Amsterdam.
That was his next destination.
But before he could begin planning, his phone buzzed with a notification.
Unknown sender.
Message: “Stop digging. We’re done watching. The next time we meet, you won’t walk away.”
Attached was a photo.
It showed Alex—sitting in the diner last night, staring at the disc.
Taken from outside the window.
His blood turned to ice.
(To Be Continued)
- Writer
