#Chapter 125: Whispers in the Wall

The crash of stone came first, then the shouts. I hurried down to the archive corridor, where workers had been clearing fire-damaged walls. A section of brick had collapsed inward, and dust clouded the hall. When it cleared, I saw what they had struck: a narrow tunnel sealed behind centuries of brickwork, the surface marked with faint chalk sigils that had survived even fire. Some were circles within circles, others were jagged symbols I half recognized from marginal notes in old council ledgers. They looked like warnings, or permissions, and their presence made my stomach turn. We followed the crew’s lantern light into the dark. The air inside tasted of smoke and damp earth. Short stools ringed a scorched table, as though people had gathered here often. I brushed my fingers over the surface, ash crumbling at my touch. Ledger fragments lay scattered, fragile with age. Nathan lifted one carefully, and my heart lurched when I saw the torn edge of a letter, addressed in careful script: