Page 29 of Hex and the Dragon
"Together?" Dorian inquired, his amber eyes blazing with dragon fire and absolute resolve.
"Together," Ivy confirmed, feeling her bibliomantic abilities respond to their shared conviction.
How touching,the Chronicle said with amused condescension.And how utterly futile. But please, continue your resistance. It adds a delightful note of dramatic tension to an otherwise foregone conclusion.
As if to emphasize its point, the library began to shift, its familiar imperfections smoothing away in favor of architectural harmony. The real battle wasn't coming—it was already here, and they were losing it one choice at a time.
But choice, Ivy realized, was exactly what they still had. And sometimes, the simple act of choosing resistance was victory enough, regardless of the outcome.
The final confrontation was about to begin.
TWELVE
DORIAN
The war council that assembled in the library's main reading room carried the weight of impossible decisions and rapidly diminishing options. Outside the tall windows, Mistwhisper Falls continued its steady transformation into the Chronicle's vision of perfection—buildings gaining architectural harmony they'd never possessed, streets flowing with geometric precision that erased decades of organic growth, residents moving with the synchronized contentment of people who'd traded individual quirks for collective purpose.
"We have maybe four hours before the equinox peaks," Leo said without preamble, his sheriff's uniform wrinkled from thirty-six hours of crisis management. Dark circles under his eyes spoke to exhaustion that went deeper than physical fatigue. "Four hours to find a way to fight something that's rewriting reality itself."
Aerin spread her research materials across the central table with the methodical precision of someone organizing evidence for a case she desperately didn't want to prosecute. Ancient texts, scrying crystals, hastily sketched diagrams of magical theory—all of it pointing toward conclusions that made her violet eyes heavy with reluctant certainty.
"I've analyzed the Chronicle's structure from every angle I can think of," she said, her usually confident voice carrying notes of defeat. "Cross-referenced binding theories, examined reality-warping countermeasures, even consulted texts on parasitic entity removal that predate human civilization."
"And?" Griff prompted, though his tone suggested he already suspected the answer wouldn't be encouraging.
"There's only one way to destroy something like this," Aerin continued, her hands trembling slightly as she arranged her notes. "The Chronicle exists primarily as a consciousness that has learned to manipulate reality through will and accumulated power. To destroy it, someone would have to enter its mental landscape—the space where it stores all those collected realities—and burn it out from within."
"Mental landscape," Ivy repeated with growing understanding. "The perfect worlds it showed us, the infinite library, all those preserved communities—they exist inside its consciousness."
"Exactly," Aerin confirmed. "But here's the problem: entering that space requires a willing sacrifice. Someone who can maintain their individual identity while surrounded by everything they've ever wanted, resist the temptation to stay in paradise, and have enough power to destroy the Chronicle's core consciousness before it can eject them or rewrite their memories."
Silence settled over the group like a burial shroud. They could see more residents moving through the streets with that same eerie synchronization, their faces peaceful but somehow empty of the spark that made them individually human.
"Dragon fire," Dorian said quietly, his amber eyes fixed on Aerin's research. "That's why you're looking at me. Dragon fire is a rare force that can burn through reality-warping magic."
"It's more than that," Aerin said with academic precision that couldn't quite hide her distress. "Dragon fire operates on principles of creation through destruction—it doesn't just burn things, it burns them back to their fundamental components so something new can grow. Applied to a consciousness like the Chronicle's..."
"It would unravel all those collected realities," Ivy finished with horror. "Destroy the paradise worlds it's been preserving."
"And free the consciousnesses trapped within them," Dorian added with growing conviction. "Give them the chance to choose reality over perfect dreams."
"You're volunteering," Leo observed with the flat certainty of someone who'd seen too many heroes make impossible sacrifices. "You want to go in there alone and burn the Chronicle out from within, knowing you probably won't survive the process."
"Someone has to," Dorian said firmly. "And I'm the only one here whose power can actually affect something that operates outside normal reality."
"No." Ivy's voice cut through the discussion with absolute authority. "Absolutely not. You're not sacrificing yourself because you feel guilty about Portland. You're not dying to prove you can be a protector instead of a destroyer."
"This isn't about guilt," Dorian protested, though the defensive edge in his voice suggested otherwise. "This is about using the tools available to solve an impossible problem."
"The tools available include me," Ivy countered. "My bibliomancy allows me to navigate narrative structures, to understand and manipulate story-based realities. If the Chronicle's mental landscape is built from collected stories, from people's perfect worlds, then I can guide us through it."
"Us," Dorian repeated with sharp focus. "You're proposing we go in together."
"I'm proposing we stop pretending that either of us is expendable," Ivy said firmly. "You need someone who can navigate the Chronicle's reality-prison without getting lost in the temptations it offers. I need someone whose power can actually destroy what we find there. Together, we might have a chance. Alone, we're just throwing lives away."
Mara looked up from where she'd been quietly preparing herbal compounds designed to anchor consciousness during supernatural trauma. "Going in together increases your chances of survival, but it also increases the risk that both of you will be lost if something goes wrong."
"Everything about this plan is risky," Griff said bluntly. "But Ivy's right about one thing—separation is what the Chronicle wants. It's been trying to drive wedges between them since this started. Maybe their connection is exactly what we need to use against it."
