Forgotten Pages
1248 Words
The palace felt different without Ace.
It wasn't quieter.
Servants still hurried through the halls.
Knights still changed shifts along the castle walls.
The kitchens remained just as lively as ever, filling the corridors with the scent of fresh bread and sweet pastries each morning.
Everything continued exactly as it always had.
Yet somehow...
It felt emptier.
Nyra wandered the eastern corridor with a book tucked beneath one arm, absentmindedly tracing her fingers along the cool marble walls as she walked.
She smiled politely as passing servants greeted her.
"Good morning, Your Highness."
"Good morning."
Most of them smiled back.
Some even stopped to ask how she was.
It reminded her of something Ace had once told her.
"Kindness has a funny way of finding its way home."
She wondered how Frostmere was.
Had Ace remembered to sleep?
Or was he still working?
Had Orion eaten anything besides travel rations?
She smiled to herself.
Probably not.
Before she realized it, her feet had carried her to the library once again.
She laughed softly.
"I really should learn another way through the palace."
The heavy oak doors creaked open.
As always...
The library welcomed her without question.
Master Edwin was nowhere to be seen.
That was unusual.
Nyra set her book on one of the reading tables before wandering deeper into the towering shelves.
"Master Edwin?"
No answer.
She frowned.
"You've never missed tea before."
Her voice echoed gently through the nearly empty room.
Still nothing.
Curiosity led her farther into the eastern wing of the library, a section few visitors ever entered.
The shelves here were older.
Taller.
Dust clung to the bindings of forgotten volumes, and narrow windows allowed only thin beams of morning light to filter inside.
It felt...
Untouched.
Nyra rounded a corner and finally spotted him.
Master Edwin stood atop a rolling ladder, balancing precariously as he reached toward the highest shelf.
Scrolls surrounded him.
Books lay open across a nearby table.
Half a dozen maps had been pinned to a cork board, each depicting a different version of northern Eirenshade.
Nyra blinked.
"...Master Edwin?"
The old historian nearly dropped the scroll in his hands.
"Oh!"
He steadied himself against the shelf before climbing down with surprising agility.
"Princess."
She looked around the room.
"I've never seen this many maps out before."
Edwin adjusted his spectacles.
"Neither have I."
Nyra tilted her head.
"What are you looking for?"
He hesitated.
Then smiled.
"An answer."
She walked toward the nearest table.
Every map she could see had one thing in common.
Lake Vaelor.
Some were beautifully illustrated.
Others were little more than rough sketches drawn by traveling explorers.
Yet every single one marked the lake in exactly the same place.
Nyra looked back at him.
"You've been thinking about Frostmere."
"I have."
"You believe the merchant."
Edwin was quiet for a moment.
"I believe something happened."
She gently rested her fingertips on the oldest map.
"This lake..."
Her ember-colored eyes lingered on the faded ink.
"...has always been here."
Edwin nodded.
"For as long as our records remember."
Nyra frowned.
"But records don't go back forever."
A smile slowly spread across the historian's face.
"No."
He carefully rolled up one of the maps and tucked it beneath his arm.
"They don't."
He looked toward a heavy iron door at the back of the archive room.
"But I know where older ones might."
Nyra followed Master Edwin toward the iron door at the rear of the archive room.
Unlike the rest of the library, this section had no welcoming warmth.
The air was cooler.
Older.
The scent of parchment gave way to aged cedar and iron.
A heavy brass key hung from a chain at Edwin's side. He removed it carefully, brushing a layer of dust from the lock before inserting it.
"I've only opened this room a handful of times."
Nyra looked at him in surprise.
"In all the years I've known you?"
He nodded.
"Most of what is kept in here has already been copied into the main archives."
"Then why keep the originals?"
Edwin smiled faintly.
"Because copies preserve words."
He turned the key.
"Originals preserve history."
The lock gave a satisfying click.
With both hands, Edwin pushed against the door.
It opened slowly with a deep groan, disturbed only by the settling of dust that had rested undisturbed for years.
Rows upon rows of ancient shelves stretched into the dim room beyond.
Leather scroll cases stood stacked beside weathered cabinets.
Maps rested inside wide wooden drawers.
Bundles of parchment were tied together with faded blue ribbons.
Nyra stepped inside almost reverently.
"...It's beautiful."
Master Edwin chuckled.
"I've never heard anyone describe an archive that way."
"I think it's wonderful."
She slowly turned in a circle, taking everything in.
"It's like walking through the kingdom's memory."
Edwin's smile softened.
"That's exactly what it is."
He lit another lantern and placed it upon a nearby table.
Golden light spread across the room.
Dust danced lazily through the air.
"Let's begin with the oldest survey maps."
Nyra nodded eagerly.
For the next hour, the two worked in comfortable silence.
Scroll after scroll was carefully unrolled.
Some were so old the ink had faded to a pale brown.
Others were remarkably well preserved despite their age.
Every one of them showed the northern territories.
Every one of them marked Lake Vaelor.
Nyra frowned.
"It's always there."
"It is."
"No changes."
"No."
"No different shoreline."
Edwin leaned closer to one particularly old map.
"Remarkable."
Nyra looked up.
"What is?"
"This map predates House Asterion."
Her eyes widened.
"It does?"
He nodded.
"By nearly two centuries."
She stared at the familiar blue shape representing the lake.
"So Vaelor existed before our kingdom."
"Long before."
Silence settled over the archive once again.
Nyra reached for another bundle tucked into the back of the shelf.
As she untied the ribbon, several loose pages slipped free and scattered across the table.
She quickly gathered them.
"...These aren't maps."
Edwin glanced over.
"They're inventory records."
Nyra skimmed the first page.
"'Northern Archives... Revised Collection...'"
She turned another page.
Then another.
A puzzled expression crossed her face.
"Master Edwin..."
"Hm?"
"There are numbers missing."
He stepped closer.
"What do you mean?"
She pointed to the margin.
"These records list manuscripts by catalog number."
Her finger traced the neat handwriting.
"One hundred forty-seven..."
"One hundred forty-eight..."
She paused.
"Then it jumps to one hundred fifty-six."
Edwin's brow furrowed.
He reached for another inventory sheet from a different year.
The same gap.
Another.
Again.
And another.
The old historian's expression slowly changed.
"This isn't damage."
Nyra looked at him.
"No."
His voice was quieter now.
"It was intentional."
He hurried to another cabinet, pulling open a long drawer filled with catalog ledgers.
His fingers moved quickly through decades of records.
Every ledger told the same story.
Entries.
Numbers.
Titles.
Then...
Blank spaces.
Entire sections quietly omitted.
Nyra watched him in silence.
"...Someone removed them."
Edwin stopped turning pages.
After a long moment, he answered.
"I don't believe they removed only the books."
He looked around the forgotten archive.
"I believe they removed the memory that those books ever existed."
The room suddenly felt much colder.
Nyra glanced toward the towering shelves surrounding them.
Thousands of books.
Centuries of history.
How many stories had simply...
vanished?
She swallowed.
"Why would anyone erase history?"
Master Edwin closed the ledger carefully.
"Princess..."
His eyes lingered on the missing catalog numbers.
"...That is the question historians fear the most."
- Writer
