Page 4 of Hex and the Dragon
As if it understood their discussion, the Chronicle's pages began to turn of their own accord, revealing text that appeared in flowing script:
Such clever analysis. But understanding the trap does not free you from it. The bond grows stronger with proximity, deeper with time. Soon you will find that separation brings pain, while unity brings... revelation.
Ivy felt a chill run down her spine as the words sank in. "Separation brings pain," she repeated. "What does that mean?"
The answer didn’t come from the Chronicle's pages, but from her own body. The moment she considered leaving the archive room, a sharp headache spiked behind her eyes, accompanied by a wave of nausea that made her grip the edge of her desk for support.
Dorian cursed under his breath, his hand moving to his temple. "It's doing the same thing to me. The further I think about getting from this place, the worse it gets."
"How far?" Aerin asked with clinical precision. "What's the range of the effect?"
Ivy forced herself to walk toward the archive room doorway, monitoring the intensity of the discomfort. The headache grew worse with each step, but it wasn't unbearable until she reached the main library floor. By the time she was halfway to the front door, the pain was sharp enough to make her vision blur.
"Fifty feet," she said, returning to the archive room with relief. "Maybe sixty. Beyond that, it becomes... unpleasant."
"Unpleasant enough to make long-term separation impossible," Leo observed grimly. "Which means you're stuck together until we find a way to break the bond."
"Or until we give the Chronicle what it wants," Dorian stated with dark humor. "I'm sure that's not a coincidence."
The Chronicle's pages moved, and let out what seemed to be laughter, and new text appeared:
Proximity breeds familiarity. Familiarity breeds trust. Trust breeds the willingness to listen when I offer you everything you've ever wanted. The bond serves multiple purposes, dear readers.
"It's manipulating us," Ivy stated even with the uncertainty in her own voice. "Forcing us together so it can work on both of us simultaneously."
"Maybe," Aerin said thoughtfully. "But there might be another explanation. Ancient binding magic often requires specific conditions to function properly. Multiple participants, shared experiences, emotional resonance..." She trailed off, studying the Chronicle with increased interest. "This fragment might need you to work together to achieve whatever its ultimate goal is."
"Which is what, exactly?" Dorian demanded. "What does it actually want from us?"
The Chronicle's responded:
I want what I have always wanted. Perfection. Order. The elimination of chaos and suffering through the application of superior design. Your reality is flawed, broken, filled with unnecessary pain. I offer the chance to rewrite that reality, to craft something better. Something worthy of the power required to create it.
"Rewrite reality," Ivy repeated, her scholar's mind immediately grasping the implications. "Not just alter it or influence it. Actually rewrite the fundamental structure of existence."
"Using what power source?" Aerin asked sharply. "Reality-warping on that scale would require enormous amounts of magical energy."
The answer came from Dorian's sharp intake of breath. "Dragon fire," he said quietly. "That's why it needs me. Dragon fire can burn the barriers between realities."
"And bibliomancy," Ivy added with growing understanding. "The ability to rewrite reality through words, through stories. That's why it chose me." She felt the Chronicle's satisfaction pulse through their bond, cold and alien and utterly pleased with her deduction.
"So you're the tools it needs to remake the world," Leo said bluntly. "The question is whether you're going to let it use you."
"We don't have much choice," Dorian pointed out. "This bond isn't going to break itself, and I'm betting the Chronicle isn't going to get bored and wander off to find other victims."
"There's always a choice," Ivy declared even if the whispers in her mind were growing stronger, offering glimpses of a world where libraries contained every book that had ever been written or ever could be written, where knowledge flowed like water and answers came as easily as breathing.
The thought was seductive enough to make her breath catch.
"The choice is what kind of partnership you're going to have," Aerin observed with clinical detachment. "You can work together to resist the Chronicle's influence, or you can let it drive a wedge between you and pick you off one at a time."
"Partnership," Dorian repeated, his amber eyes finding Ivy's face. "With someone I barely know, dealing with a magical crisis that could reshape reality as we know it."
"I realize this isn't ideal," Ivy said, trying to ignore the way his intense gaze made her pulse quicken. "But Aerin's right. We're stronger together than apart. And if we're going to make a plan on how to stop this thing..."
"We need to understand it first," Dorian finished, though his expression suggested he was far from happy about the prospect. "Research. Careful, methodical research."
"With appropriate safeguards," Nico added. "No one works with the Chronicle alone. No extended exposure without breaks.And at the first sign that either of you is being overly influenced..."
