People mingled, some still shaken from the falling chandelier. Prime Minister Jian, looking a bit pale but composed, had resumed his speech. He was talking about the importance of remembering old agreements. His voice was steady, but there was a new urgency in it. He spoke with deep feeling, as if he knew something important that others did not.
Prince Wen Zhi watched him. The unease he felt earlier had not gone away. It was still there, a cold knot in his stomach. His silver foresight was quiet for now. It seemed the chandelier incident was over. But the feeling of dread remained. He kept his eyes on Jian, sensing that something else was about to happen.
Princess Cao Zhen stood nearby. She had also recovered from the shock of the chandelier. She watched Jian, her amber sight working. She felt the echoes of the recent panic. The fear in the crowd. The shock of the guards. But she also felt something else, something faint. A trace of Jian's earlier fear from the garden. It was like a faint scent still hanging in the air.
Jian's speech was powerful. He spoke of unity. He said the Nine Realms were like a family. But families sometimes argued. He said it was important to remember why they were a family. To remember the old pacts. The agreements that had kept peace for so long. He looked out at the crowd, his gaze sweeping over them.
Suddenly, Jian's voice faltered. He stopped speaking. He coughed. A small, dry sound. It was barely noticeable at first.
Wen Zhi's silver vision flashed. It was immediate. Sharp. Violent. He saw Jian's head bump back. A small, dark object. A dart. It flew through the air. It landed with perfect aim in Jian's neck. He saw Jian's eyes widen in shock. He saw him clutch his throat. He saw him begin to fall. It was happening in the next few seconds.
Wen Zhi's mind went into overdrive. He saw the future so clearly. Jian collapsing. The sudden chaos. The panic. But he also saw something else in the silver haze. A heavy, ornate candelabra, high on a balcony. It began to sway. It looked like it was about to fall. It was positioned to fall directly where Jian would be in a few moments, after being hit by the dart. It was a double attack. A planned event.
He looked at Jian. The minister was still standing, but he was struggling to breathe. He swayed slightly. His hand went to his neck. His eyes looked confused, then filled with pain. He was about to collapse.
Wen Zhi saw the dart in his vision. It was too small, too fast to see in reality yet. But he knew it was there. He knew what was coming. His silver foresight was precise.
At the same time, Zhen's amber sight flared. It had been picking up the faint echoes in the hall. Now, near where Jian was standing, the echoes became much stronger. They swirled around Jian's falling form. She saw a desperate scene. A whispered conversation. It was from just a few moments ago, near this very spot.
In Zhen's vision, Jian was talking to someone. His voice was low, filled with fear. He was urgent. "Remember…" the echo whispered.
"Remember the name… the Archivist…" Jian's echo sounded weak. He was already feeling the effects of something. His words were rushed. He clutched his throat, just as Wen Zhi saw him do in his future vision.
Zhen saw a shadowy figure standing close to Jian in the echo. The figure's hand was moving. A quick, small movement. Then, Jian's echo began to fall. The whispered words continued, trailing off.
"…warn… the pact…"
Zhen saw it all at once. The past conversation. Jian's fear. The shadowy figure. And then, in the present, Jian's body began to crumple. He was falling.
Wen Zhi moved. He couldn't stop the dart. It was too fast. It had already happened in his vision. But he saw the candelabra. He saw its intended target. Jian. But now, with Jian falling, the candelabra would hit the ground nearby. It was meant to add to the chaos, perhaps to hide the dart's entry.
He couldn't let it hit anyone else. He looked around. His silver vision showed him the path of the falling candelabra. It would land near a group of nobles, including the Grand Chancellor.
Wen Zhi acted instantly. He didn't shout. He didn't want to cause more panic. He moved with an almost unnatural speed. He darted forward, not towards Jian, but towards the nobles.
"Move!" he said, his voice sharp and clear, directed at the Grand Chancellor and those nearby.
"Quickly! To the side!"
His voice cut through the growing murmur. People looked at him, surprised. But his urgency was clear. The Grand Chancellor, caught off guard, looked at Wen Zhi, then up. He saw the ornate candelabra begin to sway precariously. A collective gasp went through the crowd.
Just as Jian hit the floor, the candelabra detached with a loud groan. It fell heavily, crashing down precisely where Wen Zhi had directed the Grand Chancellor and the others to move. It landed with a tremendous smash, sending shards of crystal and metal flying. But because of Wen Zhi's quick warning, no one was directly beneath it.
Chaos erupted. Screams filled the hall. Guards rushed forward, surrounding the fallen Jian and the wreckage of the candelabra. The focus was now split. Some were tending to Jian, others were securing the area, and a few were staring in horror at the second near-disaster.
Zhen, her amber sight still flickering with the echoes, saw the dart. It was too small to be seen clearly, but she sensed its presence from Jian's echo. The shadowy figure had used it. And she saw the echo of the candelabra falling, but it seemed… less planned than the dart. Perhaps it was a secondary effect, or a contingency.
She looked at Jian. He lay on the floor, pale and still. He was breathing, but shallowly. His eyes were half-closed. Zhen focused her amber sight on him. She saw the echo of his earlier fear in the garden. And she heard the whispered words again, clearer now. "The Archivist…" Jian's voice was weak, almost a sigh in the echo. "…warn… the pact…"
She looked at Wen Zhi. He was standing calmly amidst the chaos, his expression serious. He had saved the Grand Chancellor and others from the falling candelabra. He had acted based on his vision of the future. But he hadn't stopped the dart.
Wen Zhi watched Jian on the floor. His silver vision had shown the fall, but not the cause. He had focused on the secondary threat, the candelabra. He hadn't seen the dart clearly enough to prevent it. It was a sharp reminder of his gift's limits. He could see what was coming, but often not why or how it was caused, especially with things so small and fast.
He looked at Zhen. He saw the flicker of her amber sight, the way she was focused on Jian. He knew she was seeing something he couldn't. Something from the past.
"Prime Minister Jian is struck," Wen Zhi announced, his voice cutting through the noise. His tone was calm, factual. He was reporting what he saw, what everyone could now see.
"The candelabra was a secondary danger. It has been averted."
Guards were now examining Jian. One of them, a captain, looked closely at Jian's neck.
"There is a wound," he said, his voice grim. "Small. Like a dart."
The word "dart" sent a fresh wave of murmurs through the crowd. This was not an accident. This was an attack. A planned assassination.
Zhen approached Jian cautiously. Her amber sight was focused on him. She saw the echoes of his last moments of health. His conversation in the garden. His fear. His urgent whisper.
"The Archivist…" she murmured, almost to herself.
Wen Zhi heard her. "The Archivist?" he asked, his voice low.
He didn't know that name. His silver vision had shown him the falling objects, the panic, but not the assassin or their motive.
Zhen looked at Wen Zhi. She knew he had saved people from the candelabra. She knew he saw the future. She decided to trust him. "In the garden, earlier today," she said, her voice soft but clear,
"Prime Minister Jian was speaking with someone. He was very afraid. He mentioned a name. 'The Archivist.' He said to remember it. He was warning about… erasing history."
Wen Zhi processed her words. Erasing history? The Archivist? These were new pieces of information. They didn't fit with his silver visions of falling objects. This was deeper. This was about motives.
He looked at the chaos around them. The guards were securing the area. The nobles were whispering, their faces a mixture of fear and anger. The Inquiry team would focus on the dart, the wound, and the falling objects. They would look for a political enemy. But Wen Zhi and Zhen knew there was more.
"The Archivist," Wen Zhi repeated the name, tasting it. It felt cold. Unfamiliar. His silver foresight showed him the immediate future. Confusion, panic, and the Inquiry chasing the wrong leads. But it didn't show him this 'Archivist.'
Zhen focused on the spot where Jian had fallen. She saw the echo of the shadowy figure. Quick. Nimble. Gone. She couldn't get a clear image. But she sensed a coldness. A lack of emotion. Like the presence she had felt around the dark stain on the floor earlier.
"The person he spoke to," Zhen said, her voice hushed, "in the garden. They felt… cold. Like the stain on the floor. Not angry, but empty."
Wen Zhi nodded slowly. Empty. That matched the unsettling feeling he sometimes got from people who seemed too calm, too controlled. He looked at the Grand Chancellor, who was now directing the guards. He looked like a man of duty. But Wen Zhi's silver vision showed him a future where the Chancellor's investigation would be misled.
Prime Minister Jian was being carefully carried away. His fate was uncertain. He was alive, but gravely injured. His last words, his whispered warning, were now in Zhen's memory. And the chaos of the assassination attempt was now the primary focus for everyone in the hall.
Wen Zhi looked at Zhen. They had witnessed two major events in a short time. A falling chandelier. An assassination attempt. He had foreseen the dangers and acted. She had seen the echoes of the past, the whispers of warning. They were a strange pair. One saw what was coming. The other saw what had been.
"We must find this Archivist," Wen Zhi said, his voice firm.
"And understand what Prime Minister Jian was trying to warn us about."
Zhen nodded. The fear in Jian's echo was a strong signal. It meant his warning was important. "Erasing history," she murmured. It was a chilling thought. It was a threat far greater than a simple war.
The hall was still in turmoil. But in the minds of Wen Zhi and Zhen, a new path had opened. A path not of outward investigation, but of looking into the unseen. Into the future they could glimpse, and the past that held the hidden truth.