Chapter 6 - The Black Market for Words

The fall felt like drowning in a sea of viscous darkness. There was not enough air to breathe, nor solid walls to touch—only a sensation of continuous spinning and pressure weighing on his chest as if all the oceans had combined their weight. Elian gripped Professor Vera's hand tightly, his fingers tangled in her rough cloak, trying to anchor himself against the strange gravitational force pulling them into the depths. He did not scream; he realized that sound here might be more dangerous than the fall itself. He closed his eyes and focused on the pulse of the tattoo on his arm, which glowed with a faint, dark red light, like a living compass guiding them through this invisible tunnel. He felt that the tattoo was not burning this time, but cooling, as if absorbing the negative energy of the place, or perhaps trying to protect him from something waiting below.After what seemed like hours, though only minutes had passed, their fall suddenly slowed. They did not stop smoothly, but collided with something soft and flexible, like a giant net made of intertwined plant fibers. They bounced slightly before finally settling on a damp, cold floor. Elian breathed with difficulty, his lungs searching for clean oxygen, but the air here was heavy, saturated with strange, overlapping scents: spicy herbs, old ink, human sweat, and a metallic smell resembling dried blood. He opened his eyes slowly, trying to adjust to the pitch-black darkness pierced only by weak flashes from multiple scattered light sources.He found himself in a very wide corridor, its ceiling so high it vanished into the upper shadows. The walls were carved into natural rock but reinforced with massive wooden arches that looked ancient, bearing faded inscriptions in languages Elian had never seen before. On both sides of the corridor stretched small stalls and shops made of wood and black cloth, each lit by oil lamps with blue or pale green flames. People—or creatures resembling humans—moved in silent crowds, wearing robes that hid their faces and bodies, exchanging goods in faint whispers. There was no shouting as in normal markets; instead, the atmosphere was charged with tension and extreme caution.Vera rose beside him, swaying slightly but quickly regaining her balance. She raised her staff and pressed a hidden button, causing a faint white light to emanate from it, illuminating a small area around them. She looked at Elian with sharp eyes, quickly checking his condition."Are you alright?" she asked in a very low voice, her lips barely moving.Elian nodded, although his head was still spinning and the dizziness had not completely left him. "Where are we?" he whispered, his voice sounding strange in this suspiciously quiet place."We are in the 'Lower Market'," Vera answered, helping him stand. "The place where those expelled by the system seek refuge, or where those looking for things the law forbids buying come. Here, words have a different price. Not just in gold, but in memory, in time, and in true names."Vera pulled her cloak tighter around her body and signaled for Elian to do the same. "Hide your face. And hide your hand. The red tattoo attracts attention here. Some see it as a mark of power, others as a sign of easy prey."They walked slowly between the stalls, Elian feeling the gaze of hidden eyes under hoods following them. He saw strange things for sale: small bottles containing colored smoke labeled "A Child's Laughter," leather sheets with drawings of dead stars, and broken magical wands said to have belonged to great wizards who fell in war. But what caught Elian's attention most was a small stall in a dark corner, where an old man with white glassy eyes sold "Forgotten Names." Customers paid him with small pieces of mirrors, and in return, the man would whisper a single word into the buyer's ear, causing the buyer to tremble and either cry or laugh hysterically before leaving quickly."Do not look at them directly," Vera warned, gently pulling Elian away from the stall. "Curiosity here kills faster than a sword. We are looking for a specific person. An information broker named 'The Whisper.' He is the only one who might know something about your father.""My father?" Elian stopped suddenly, his heart jumping in his chest. "How do you know I'm looking for him? I didn't tell you…"Vera cut him off with a quick, sharp look. "You have the same eyes, Elian. And the same deadly curiosity. Besides, the tattoo… Your father was a Bearer too. And not an ordinary one. He was known as 'The Last Reader.'"Elian felt as if the ground beneath his feet had shaken again. "My father was a Bearer? But… he was just a scribe. They told me he died in a library accident."Vera gave a short, bitter laugh. "The Academy does not always kill its enemies with knives, boy. Sometimes it kills them by erasing their existence from memory. Your father did not die in an accident. He disappeared because he found something in 'Semantic Chaos' that made Lord Selix tremble with fear. And we are here to find what he found, before Selix finds us."She led him through a narrower, darker side passage, where the smells became more intense and the people fewer. They reached a small wooden door with a carved symbol: a closed eye. Vera knocked three times in succession, paused, then knocked once more. They waited for a moment, and then the door creaked open faintly.They entered a small room filled with thick blue smoke. In the center sat a very thin man, his skin so pale it seemed transparent, his eyes closed. He was smoking a long pipe from which smoke emerged, forming words that faded into the air."Vera," the man said in a hoarse voice that seemed to come from the depths of a well. "Your absence has been long. And is this… his son?"The man suddenly opened his eyes. They were completely black, without whites, and seemed to absorb the light from the room. He looked at Elian, then at his hand hidden under his sleeve. He smiled broadly, revealing slightly pointed teeth."The red tattoo," the man whispered. "It has begun to awaken. I expected it to take longer. But 'The Last Reader' left a heavy legacy."Elian stepped forward, ignoring Vera's silent warning. "I knew my father. What happened to him? Where is he now?"The man raised his thin hand and pointed to an empty chair in front of him. "Sit. Knowledge is not free, Bearer. And even if it were, hearing the truth might cost you your sanity. Are you ready to pay?""What do you want in exchange for the information?" Elian asked firmly.The man looked at Vera, then back at Elian. "I do not want gold. Nor memory. I want a word. One word from your own language. The word that turned the tattoo red. Speak it here, in this neutral place, and I will tell you everything I know about your father, and about the 'Burnt Library.'"Elian hesitated. He looked at Vera, who looked very worried. She shook her head slightly, a clear warning signal. But Elian thought of his father, of the long years of silence and lies, of the urgent desire to know the truth. He felt the tattoo pulsing in his arm, as if encouraging him, or perhaps pushing him toward the abyss.He took a deep breath, rolled up his shirt sleeve, and revealed the glowing red tattoo. He focused on the essence he had learned in previous training: contradiction, movement in stillness. He whispered the word, in a clear and steady voice: "Moving stillness."Absolute silence fell over the room. The blue smoke stopped forming shapes. The black-eyed man's eyes widened, and for the first time, genuine fear appeared on his face. Then, slowly, he began to laugh. A loud, hysterical laughter filled the small room."Magnificent!" the man shouted. "You inherited his madness and his power together. Yes, I will tell you. Your father did not disappear. He is hiding. In the 'Burnt Library.' And he is waiting for you. But he warned you: Trust no one who carries a staff of oak engraved with stars."Elian turned very slowly toward Vera. She was standing behind him, and her wooden staff—made of dark wood and engraved with small silver stars—was raised slightly, as if preparing for a swift strike.Blood froze in Elian's veins."Vera?" he whispered with a trembling voice.Vera did not answer. But her gray eyes no longer looked kind or even neutral. They were cold, calculating, and filled with something like regret mixed with determination."I hoped you would not have to use that word here," Vera said in a calm, terrifying voice. "Because it revealed something I did not want you to know yet. Yes, my staff is made of oak engraved with stars. But not because I am your enemy, Elian. But because I was the only guardian preventing others from reaching you… until now."Before Elian could respond, he heard a loud explosion from outside the wooden door. The door shattered into splinters, and three masked men wearing black armor entered, carrying swords ignited with blue fire."Betrayal tastes bitter," one of the attackers shouted, lunging at Vera.Vera moved with lightning speed, her staff blocking the strike and releasing a wave of energy that pushed the attacker back. But she did not attack Elian. Instead, she screamed at him: "Run! Find the Burnt Library! Trust your father, and trust no one else!"Elian looked at her for one last moment, seeing the internal conflict in her eyes, then turned and jumped through the small back window leading to a dark sewage tunnel. As he ran through the darkness, he heard the sounds of battle fading behind him, and Vera's voice screaming his name for the last time before he vanished into the shadows.He was alone now. Hunted. Deceived. But he knew the destination.The Burnt Library.