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"I told you."

"I dislike that you were right."

His grin transforms into a smile. "I know." He immediately slides another stack of copied reports toward me.

"You're giving me more work?"

"You said you felt better."

"I walked into that one."

"You did."

I narrow my eyes. "I liked you more yesterday."

The five of us settle back into the rhythm we'd built over the last two days. No discussion. No instructions. Simply work. Cassian disappears before anyone can ask him to. Moments later his voice echoes from somewhere beyond the western shelves. "I FOUND—" A pause. "Something."

Nyra smiles without looking up. "Better."

"I remembered." Cassian smiles.

I smile to myself and return to the journal in front of me. The new quill glides effortlessly across the parchment. Rhyven had been right. It really is lighter. Not that I intend to admit that. Ever.

Another hour disappears. The stack of copied records beside Nyra has grown taller than the originals. Cassian has somehow organized three entirely separate timelines across the floor. Caelen now carries a notebook of his own. Not because he's investigating. Because he's tracking us. Who has eaten. Who has rested. Who needs more parchment. Who has already copied which records. It's terrifyingly efficient. "Water."

I don't even look up. "I'm not thirsty."

A cup appears beside my elbow. "You are."

"I'm really not."

"You've rubbed your temples six times in the last fifteen minutes." Rhyven calls out from his table.

I stop moving. Slowly I lower my hand. "Have I?" Rhyven doesn't answer. He simply continues reading the military report in front of him. As though the conversation has already ended. I stare at the cup. Then quietly drink the water. It tastes unfairly refreshing. Professor Neris watches the exchange from the far end of the room. I think, very briefly, I see the corner of her mouth twitch.

Night settles over the Archive once more. The lamps glow golden against the ancient stone. Outside, rain begins tapping softly against the narrow windows. Inside, only pages turn. Quills scratch. Fire crackles. The world has become wonderfully, impossibly small. Just us. And history. Cassian suddenly lowers another journal onto the central table. "I think..." He hesitates. "I think these people knew."

Nyra looks up. "Knew what?"

"Not everything." He shakes his head. "But they knew something had changed." He points toward the page. "'The Academy remains beautiful.'" He reads aloud. "'The children still laugh.'" Another line. "'But no one notices that silence now arrives before the birds do.'" The room falls still. Even Professor Neris stops writing. Cassian looks around quietly. "That's exactly what Briar's Hollow felt like." No one disagrees. Because he isn't wrong. Nyra carefully copies the passage. Then adds one small note beneath it. Environmental changes precede visible manifestations. I glance toward her. "You really think that's important?"

She doesn't hesitate. "I think everything becomes important eventually."

The hours pass. The pile of blank parchment grows smaller. The pile of copied history grows larger. Nyra silently slides documents toward Cassian before he asks. He already knows where to place them. Caelen replaces empty candles before anyone notices they've burned low. Professor Neris quietly removes completed records from the tables, returning the originals to their shelves while leaving only our copies behind. And Rhyven... Rhyven somehow always reaches the heavier stack before I do. Again. And again. And again. Every time I reach toward one it's already gone. Balanced beneath his arm as though it had always belonged there.

Near midnight, Professor Neris closes the final ledger. The sound echoes softly through the Archive. "Enough." No one argues. Not even Cassian. We all know she's right. My eyes burn. Nyra's fingers are stained almost entirely black with ink. Caelen rolls his shoulders with a quiet wince. For the first time all weekend even Rhyven looks tired. Professor Neris walks slowly around the room. She pauses beside each table. Each stack of copied records. Each carefully labeled bundle tied together with twine. When she reaches the center she looks at all five of us. "I've worked in this Archive." She says quietly. "For twenty-three years." No one speaks. "I've watched students come here because they wanted answers." A faint smile. "Some because they wanted excuses." Cassian looks suspiciously guilty. Professor Neris pretends not to notice. "But..." She rests one hand lightly on the nearest stack of copied journals. "I've never watched students come here because they wanted to preserve knowledge."Her eyes move from one of us to the next. "You've done more this weekend than copy books." She gently lifts one bundle of parchment. "You've ensured that if these shelves are ever emptied...their contents won't disappear." The words settle heavily over all of us. She ties the final bundle herself. Carefully. Almost reverently. Then places it inside one of Caelen's satchels. "Take them."

I blink. "All of them?"

She nods. "The Council cannot confiscate what it cannot find." For a heartbeat no one moves. Then Caelen quietly shoulders the satchel. Not proudly. Carefully. As though it weighs far more than parchment. Perhaps it does.

Professor Neris extinguishes the first lamp. Darkness swallows one corner of the Archive. Then another. And another. One by one the shelves disappear into shadow. The room slowly becomes what it had always been before we arrived. Ancient. Silent. Waiting. We climb the metal staircase together. None of us looks back at first. Until the great iron doors come into view. Professor Neris remains inside. One hand resting on the handle. She looks at us for a long moment. "Whatever happens tomorrow..." Her voice is calm. Steady. "Remember this." She glances over her shoulder toward the endless darkness beyond. "History survives because someone chooses to remember." Not kings. Not Councils. Not wars. People. Ordinary people. Choosing not to let the truth disappear. My throat tightens. Professor Neris inclines her head once. "Go." We step into the corridor. One after another. Cassian. Nyra. Me. Caelen. Rhyven is the last to cross the threshold. Professor Neris meets his gaze. He gives the smallest nod. A promise. He'll protect what we've saved. She seems to understand. The iron doors begin to close. Slowly. The sound reverberates through the stone hallway. Deep. Ancient. Final. I watch until only a narrow line of golden light remains between the doors. Then...That too disappears. The lock turns. Once. Twice. Silence. For several moments none of us moves. Five students. Standing before a door that suddenly feels much heavier than iron. Nyra is the first to speak. "Monday."

Cassian exhales. "The Council."

Caelen adjusts the satchel over his shoulder. "They'll seal everything."

"No." Rhyven says quietly. We all look toward him. "They'll try." The distinction hangs in the air. Small. Important. I don't realize I'm smiling until Nyra nudges my shoulder. "What?" She follows my gaze toward Rhyven.