Chapter Four: A Dangerous Plan
Edited: March 19, 2025
The cave was quiet now, the fire reduced to flickers and cinders. Shadows danced along the walls as if eavesdropping, silent and judgmental.
Jim sat nearest to the flame, one arm resting on his knee, the other draped over his sword's hilt like a question mark. Claire sat beside him, legs crossed, hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had gone white. Her silence hadn't gone unnoticed—but no one had pushed her to speak. Not yet.
Merlin stood at the edge of the group, his staff grounded beside him, eyes scanning a parchment map that floated mid-air, sustained by a soft golden aura. He wasn't looking at the points. He was waiting.
"I suppose," Blinky began, breaking the silence, "we should begin by addressing the burning question—how do we even locate the Codex?"
"We know Jamal gave them the note," NotEnrique chimed in, flopping onto a nearby boulder like it was a bean bag. "We know the note mentions a guy. So we find the guy. Easy."
Merlin arched a brow without looking at him. "You have the strategic sense of a particularly dim beetle."
"Thank you," NotEnrique said, genuinely. "That beetle and I were very close."
Jim sighed. "The note gave a name. It was half-burned, but I think it said 'Reyes.' We don't know if that's the first name or the last. But Jamal made it clear—whoever has the Codex now? Took it from him. Which means they're powerful... or stupid."
"Or both," Claire muttered.
"That narrows it down to almost everyone I've ever met," NotEnrique offered, earning a look from Claire that could've flattened steel.
Blinky cleared his throat, shifting the mood. "We need to approach this delicately. The Codex is not an item we can simply reclaim and toss into a bag. It's alive in a sense—an artifact imbued with infernal consciousness. There's no guarantee it will let us take it."
"We don't even know what we're walking into," Jim said. "Could be a cult. Could be a collector. Could be someone who doesn't even know what they're holding."
"Which makes it more dangerous," Merlin added. "A fool with fire can still burn down a kingdom."
Claire exhaled through her nose. "Okay. Let's say we find them. What then? Do we fight them? Steal the book and run? Try to reason with them?"
There was a pause.
Then: "Kill 'em," NotEnrique said brightly.
"No," Claire said immediately, sharp.
"...Noted," NotEnrique muttered, scribbling on an invisible notepad.
Blinky turned to Jim. "And what did Jamal say? What exactly was his demand?"
Jim's expression hardened. "Get the book. Make sure the guy doesn't remember it. Doesn't speak of it. Ever again."
"You mean wipe his memory?" Merlin asked.
Jim shook his head. "He didn't specify. Just said: 'Figure it out. One way or another.'"
The silence turned heavy again.
Blinky's voice was quiet when he spoke. "That... does not offer much room for mercy."
"That's why we have to choose it," Claire said. "We're not doing this Jamal's way. We're doing it ours."
"And if our way doesn't work?" came a voice from the back.
It was Nomura, arms folded, leaning against the stone wall. Her voice wasn't sharp this time. Just honest.
"If things go south," she continued, "what's Plan B?"
Blinky turned. "You think we should consider... Jamal's terms?"
"I think," Nomura said slowly, "we should stop pretending this is going to be clean. It won't be. If this person has the Codex, they're either obsessed, possessed, or protected. Maybe all three. If we don't plan for the worst, we'll lose the book. Or worse, bring hell to our doorstep."
Jim's jaw clenched.
Claire's hands shook a little.
"And what if," Nomura continued, "we split up?"
All eyes turned toward her.
"I'm not saying now," she clarified. "But soon. If this Codex thing is bigger than we thought—and it is—maybe we divide the risk. Let part of us focus on the Heartstone. Let another go after the book."
"That's suicide," Merlin said bluntly.
"It's strategy," Nomura replied.
"Unwise," Blinky murmured.
"It has merit," Jim said softly.
Everyone turned to him.
Jim looked up, finally locking eyes with Merlin. "If we fail at this Codex thing, the troll race doesn't get a second chance. No home. No safety. If the book consumes us, who protects them?"
The fire crackled. The air felt thinner.
Merlin didn't answer.
NotEnrique looked around and shrugged. "We could always not do either and move to Argentina. I hear the caves there are nice."
"Not helping," Blinky hissed.
"No, wait," NotEnrique said, leaning forward. "What if we find someone to help us deal with the Codex? Not a fighter. A mind mage. Memory guy. Someone who could wipe the memory without bloodshed."
Merlin blinked.
"That... is actually not the worst idea."
NotEnrique puffed up with pride. "I'll add it to my list of rare wins."
Jim looked to Claire. "If we go in... we do this clean. No killing. No corruption. We secure the Codex. We bring it back. We lock it away. Forever."
Claire nodded, slowly. "Agreed."
But in the flicker of firelight, her shadow wavered. Just slightly. Like something old... had heard her.
Claire shifted in her seat, finally speaking up again.
"Okay… then why can't you just do what you did with that guy back in Illinois?"
Merlin looked up, brow raised.
"You remember," she continued, "the one who followed us to the cave—the one with the shotgun. You wiped his memory in two seconds. Why can't you just do that to whoever has the Codex?"
Jim blinked, then looked to Merlin. "She's right. Why can't you?"
Even NotEnrique leaned forward, brow furrowed. "Yeah, you whispered some fancy words and boom—dude forgot his own pants."
Merlin's lips tightened. He stared into the fire for a long moment before answering.
"Because that man," he began slowly, "was just a man."
He looked up, and his voice carried weight now. Ancient, steady.
"The Codex Gigas is no ordinary artifact. Its very pages radiate ancient, binding magic—primordial, infernal, and conscious. If I attempt a memory wipe on someone who's interacted with it... directly..."
He paused.
"It could backfire. Not only would I risk fusing my own mind with the memories I'm trying to erase, but the Codex could also use the magic as a conduit. A doorway."
Claire paled slightly. "Like... possess you?"
Merlin nodded. "Or worse—infect me. Or whoever attempts it. Spells that work on normal minds do not behave the same on minds that have been altered—or influenced—by relics of that magnitude."
Jim frowned. "But if we don't erase the thief's memory... Jamal won't pay us. And if we kill the guy, we become exactly the kind of monsters we're running from."
"Which is why," Merlin said firmly, "this has to be handled with surgical precision. If we wipe his memory, it must be done by someone who has never touched the Codex, never read a page, never heard its words whispered in their head. And even then, it would require a spell of immense care—one misstep, and we might trigger something worse inside him."
NotEnrique whistled. "So... we're talking a magical lobotomy with a possible side of demon."
Merlin shot him a sharp look. "A crude way to put it, but... yes."
Claire looked down at her hands. "So what do we do?"
Merlin let out a breath. "We plan. We find a way to isolate the Codex. Contain it. Then—and only then—do we try to neutralize the host."
"Like separating a parasite from a brain," Blinky murmured.
"Exactly," Merlin nodded.
Jim ran a hand over his face. "So we need a spellcaster powerful enough to do it... without dying."
"Or without being... opened," Claire added, her voice barely above a whisper.
Merlin turned to her slowly.
"Opened?" he asked.
Claire didn't answer right away. She just stared into the fire, remembering the black dripping eyes, the cracked skin in her reflection.
"Nothing," she muttered. "Just a thought."
But it wasn't nothing.
The fire had long since faded into red coals, casting a warm pulse over the stone walls. Most of the trolls had settled back to rest, though a few kept quiet watch near the cave entrance—silent, uneasy.
Inside the circle, the core group remained gathered.
"So," Jim said, rolling his shoulders. "Who's going?"
"I'll remain here," Blinky volunteered first. "These trolls still require protection, and if something were to go wrong... they will need someone to lead the fallback."
"And you're not exactly stealthy," NotEnrique muttered.
Blinky didn't even argue. "That too."
"I'll go," Merlin said, rising. "This cannot be left solely to you. If anything goes wrong—if the Codex begins to react—I need to be there to contain it."
"Same," Claire added. "We can't risk separating too much this early."
NotEnrique stood, arms crossed. "If you're going, I'm going. You need someone small enough to crawl through air vents or chew through duct tape."
"Why would we be chewing duct tape?" Jim asked.
NotEnrique just winked. "You never know."
"Then it's settled," Merlin said. "Jim, Claire, NotEnrique, and myself. Blinky remains. Nomura—?"
"I'll stay," Nomura said quickly. "I'll monitor the others and scout cave exits. If anything approaches, I'll know before they do."
Jim nodded. "Good. Now... what exactly are we bringing?"
Merlin waved his staff, conjuring a golden blueprint midair.
"We'll need three things," he said. "A vessel to contain the Codex. A barrier to shield us from its influence. And safeguards in case it tries to latch onto anyone."
He drew his hand across the light, and a visual projection of the Codex Gigas materialized above them—large, ancient, its cover scarred with claw-like ridges and embedded with cracked symbols.
The group stared at it in silence.
"It's huge," Jim muttered.
"Bound in leather from an unknown origin," Merlin said softly. "Heavy. About thirty pounds. Roughly the length of a wolf's torso. Its language shifts with the reader—some say it whispers truths you didn't ask for."
"Cool," NotEnrique said. "So we're stealing a haunted cowhide brick that speaks Latin in our heads. Love that for us."
Claire didn't speak. Her eyes were fixed on the projection.
The sounds around her faded. The fire, the voices, even the low hum of magic—gone.
All she heard now was the soft flutter of pages, like parchment shifting in windless air.
Her vision blurred, the golden light of the Codex projection expanding, pressing in at the edges of her vision. She swayed slightly.
She could almost see something in the corners of its shadow—long hands, a cracked smile in the spine of the book.
Then—
"Claire?"
Jim's voice snapped her out of it. Her head jerked toward him.
"You okay?" he asked, brows furrowed.
"Yeah," she said too quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Merlin's eyes lingered on her for a beat too long, but he said nothing.
"Jim will carry the Codex if necessary," Merlin resumed. "He has the strength and the resistance, though not full immunity."
"We'll also need gloves enchanted against spiritual infection," Merlin added, waving again. "And runes. I'll be etching them into your armor and clothing. Think of them like... magical fireproofing."
"What if the guy refuses to give it up?" Claire asked. "We can't hurt him. And we can't risk him running with it."
"Then we isolate him," Merlin said. "Trap him in a silent ward. I'll prep it. If we must erase his memory, we use a buffer spell first—to suppress the Codex's interference."
"And if that fails?" Jim asked.
Merlin hesitated.
Claire answered for him. "We do it anyway."
No one spoke for a long moment.
Near the fire, one of the background trolls finally stirred. An older one, eyes dull but sharp, voice dry.
"Maybe it's time we split," he said. "Let some go find the stone. The rest go after the book."
"We're not doing that yet," Nomura said flatly, though her eyes flicked toward the projection again. "But the thought's not wrong."
"We're running out of safe nights," the troll added. "We either move... or we rot."
Jim looked to Claire again. Her hand had closed into a fist in her lap, her jaw set. He gave her a slight nod—silent, but grounding.
They had to move carefully. Together.
The sun was up.
Even in the shadow of the cave's mouth, soft light filtered in through cracks and moss, painting the stone with slanted gold. The trolls had helped build a makeshift barricade near the front—stacked boulders, woven branches, and dark cloth woven from scavenged materials. It wasn't much, but it cloaked them from passing eyes and kept the light from pouring too far in.
Inside, the air buzzed with tension and old magic. Sigils glowed faintly across the floor, each one hand-drawn by Merlin's staff and sealed with ash and whispered incantations. The scent of burnt sage, iron, and something faintly citrus lingered in the air—Merlin's idea of spiritual insulation.
"Stand still," Merlin muttered as he etched a golden rune just below Claire's shoulder blade.
She obeyed, silent, watching the thread of magic sink into the seam of her hoodie like it was stitching itself into her skin.
"These will act as anchors," he explained, stepping back. "If the Codex attempts to speak, lure, influence, or... consume, the runes will hold your mind tethered. But only for so long. If you remove your gear or if the book's presence is stronger than anticipated, they'll falter."
Claire nodded once.
Jim was across from her, adjusting his gear—newly sealed sleeves lined with fine inscriptions, his gloves reinforced with a second layer of silk-bound metal thread that shimmered faintly in the light. His sword remained strapped across his back, but even it bore new runes, designed to disrupt infernal auras on contact.
NotEnrique sat on a crate, kicking his legs and checking a belt of magical tools: smoke pellets, salt bombs, wire traps, and a crystal prism about the size of a grape.
"Remind me again what this little thing is for?" he asked, squinting.
"In case the Codex turns invisible, shifts planes, or tries to hide in shadow," Merlin said. "That prism sees through tricks."
"...Right. Definitely won't break it."
"You will," Claire murmured, deadpan.
"I probably will," he agreed.
Merlin stood in the center now, arms raised. "Now. Review time."
With a wave of his staff, the magical projection of the Codex Gigas flickered into view. Even in illusion form, it radiated weight—bound in scarred, dark leather, etched with spiraling runes in faded red. The pages shimmered like they were still turning, even when closed.
The air went still for a moment. Claire's eyes locked on it—but this time she said nothing.
"This," Merlin said, gesturing to the book, "is not to be touched directly under any circumstances. Even with gloves. Even with runes. We treat it like living venom."
He waved his hand again, and beside the book a secondary object appeared—a container. Large, cylindrical, made of a burnished dark metal lined with silver lattice patterns. Four locks. No handle.
"This was recovered from the Vaults of Avalon," he said. "Crafted to contain relics of infernal or celestial nature. It's iron-laced, blessed, and shielded with anti-possession runes. The moment the book is inside, its aura will be sealed."
Jim walked up, examining it. "And who's carrying this?"
"You are," Merlin said.
"Of course I am."
"You're the only one who can hold the weight, literally and magically. And if something goes wrong, you're the one we trust to crush it before it escapes."
Jim blinked. "Wait, crush the Codex?"
"Plan Z," Merlin said.
Claire stepped beside him, voice tight. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
Merlin turned to the group. "Let's review the plan. Again."
He raised a glowing glyph in the air, shifting through an outline:
Locate Reyes—Jamal's last known thief.
Separate him from the Codex.
Isolate the Codex immediately—contain it in the cylinder.
Isolate Reyes—bind him inside a magical circle, suppress outside influence.
Wipe the memory, only if the suppression ward is successful.
Evacuate.
"If we can't erase the memory?" Jim asked.
"Plan B," Merlin replied. "We threaten him. Relocate him. Detain him if needed."
"And Plan C?" NotEnrique asked.
"Claire knocks him unconscious with a chair," Merlin said.
Claire gave a small smile. "You say that like I haven't done it before."
"The chair may not survive," NotEnrique added.
"Focus," Merlin snapped. "This isn't a joke. That book wants to be found. It wants to be read. And the closer you get, the harder it will become to resist."
He looked at Claire now. Directly.
"And if you feel anything—visions, whispers, nausea, time skipping—you say something. Immediately."
Claire nodded, but her mouth felt dry.
The image of the Codex flickered again, and for the briefest second, she thought she saw something beneath its surface. A shape curled between its pages. Watching.
She blinked it away.
Jim looked to each of them. "Everyone clear?"
No one answered. They just nodded.
And with that, the real mission began.
"So," NotEnrique said, stretching his arms over his head, "how do we actually find this Reyes guy?"
Merlin, already gathering up the map projection with a flick of his wrist, didn't even look up. "We trace the signature."
"Signature?" Jim asked, brows narrowing.
Merlin nodded. "The Codex isn't quiet. Even when it's sealed, it leaves an imprint—especially on the one who possesses it. Think of it like... a scent. Only magical. Corrupted. I placed a detection ward around the cave hours ago, and already I've felt three pings from the city nearby."
He waved again, and the map zoomed outward, revealing a small city spread across the coast. An industrial sector, a few university buildings, older neighborhoods and winding alleyways. The kind of place where someone could hide... and not be found unless they wanted to be.
"This city has four active magical signatures," Merlin said. "Three of them are faint—charms, protective tattoos, probably harmless. But one... one pulses like an open wound."
"That's him?" Claire asked.
"Unless there's another fool toying with demonic literature in this region, yes."
NotEnrique peered at the map. "So what, we just knock on his door and say, 'Hey bro, mind giving us the Satan Bible real quick?'"
"No," Jim said. "We watch him first."
Merlin nodded. "Correct. We observe. Confirm he still has the book. Confirm he's alone. Then we move."
"And what if he's not alone?" Claire asked.
Merlin hesitated.
"Then we adapt," Jim said.
Claire looked at him, eyes slightly wider, searching for something unspoken in his face. She found it—determination. But behind that... fear. Not for himself. For her.
Merlin turned to NotEnrique. "You'll scout ahead with Claire. Smaller footprints. Less suspicious."
"Oh, so now I'm helpful," he grinned.
"You're always helpful," Merlin said dryly. "Just rarely in the ways you intend."
Jim buckled the container to a strap across his chest. Its weight settled immediately—more psychic than physical. He felt like he was wearing a warning sign.
Claire checked her blades, her mirror, and the small ring of sigil paper Merlin had crafted earlier. She paused, glanced at Jim, then lowered her voice.
"Do you think he knows what he's carrying?"
Jim didn't answer right away. "I think if he does, that's worse."
Merlin cut in again. "We head out now. I'll be a block behind, veiled, monitoring the Codex's pull. If something changes—if he tries to run—I'll lock him down."
"Do we even know what he looks like?" Claire asked.
The map projection shifted once more, zooming in on a blurred photo. Grainy security cam footage. A man, maybe mid-thirties, shaggy hair, worn hoodie. Backpack slung over his shoulder. Eyes cast down.
"That's Reyes," Merlin confirmed. "He's a low-tier alchemist. Former student at Arkmoor University. Expelled for 'experimental violations.' Hasn't been on the grid since. Jamal says he stole the Codex two months ago."
"And we're only hearing about this now?" NotEnrique asked.
"He didn't trust anyone to deal with it until now."
Jim glanced at the container again. "Let's hope we prove him wrong."
Claire looked one last time at the image of Reyes. Her stomach twisted. Something about his shadow looked... wrong.
The air outside the cave had cooled. Nightfall had stretched itself across the sky in a deep, endless navy, and a soft wind threaded through the trees like it was trying to listen in.
Claire stepped out first, hood up, staff secured against her back. Her boots crunched the loose gravel as she moved silently, eyes scanning for motion in the trees, ears tuned to the silence. NotEnrique trailed beside her—lighter on his feet than he had any right to be. Jim followed behind them, container locked tight against his side, muscles coiled like a spring beneath reinforced gear. Merlin brought up the rear, quiet as a shadow despite the occasional glint of gold from his staff.
They didn't speak.
They didn't have to.
They had gone over the plan for hours.
Track Reyes.
Confirm he still had the Codex.
Make sure he was alone.
Move in.
Isolate him.
Isolate the book.
Contain both.
No surprises.
No deaths.
No room for failure.
The streets were quieter now than they had been earlier. The part of Illinois they were in was aged but dense—a city that had stopped trying to grow and simply learned how to survive. Rows of small homes sat shoulder to shoulder beneath bent street lamps and tangled electrical lines. There were lights on in a few windows, the flicker of televisions against drawn curtains. But no cars passed. No children played. Everyone, it seemed, knew how to disappear at night.
"Stay low," Merlin whispered.
Claire gave a subtle nod. She and NotEnrique peeled off, darting ahead through the thinner stretch of sidewalk where the hedges overgrew the fences.
Jim stayed close to Merlin, eyes flicking from rooftop to shadow to alley and back again.
Then Claire's voice came softly through the comm rune:
"Got him."
They paused.
Merlin raised two fingers, and a light illusion bloomed in front of him—a floating, pulsing map projection. A glowing marker blinked faintly on the corner of an intersection about two blocks ahead.
Reyes.
They moved fast, silent. No spells yet. No magic that might alert someone tuned into strange frequencies.
Claire regrouped with them two houses down from the one Reyes was apparently holed up in. It was an old duplex—shutters falling apart, porch light broken, a "No Trespassing" sign zip-tied to a rusted railing.
Claire's voice was low but firm. "He came out to check the street. Looked over his shoulder the whole time. Paranoid. But he's alone."
"He still have the Codex?" Jim asked.
Claire nodded. "Didn't see it directly, but he has something in a thick cloth bag strapped tight against his back. Carried it like it was heavy."
"Then it's him," Merlin said. "We give him five minutes. Then we circle the back. Jim, you stay in the alley. Claire and NotEnrique, move in through the side. I'll create a suppression dome once we're in range."
"And if he runs?" NotEnrique asked.
"We don't let him," Jim said.
Merlin nodded grimly.
They waited, breathing slow. Watching.
Five minutes passed like five hours.
Then Merlin moved his hand—signal.
They went.
Claire and NotEnrique slipped between the chain-link gate, crouching low beneath the overgrowth. They moved like echoes, each footstep placed with care, each movement calculated.
Jim took the opposite side, sliding past the corner of the house, back pressed to the siding.
Inside, through a slit in the blinds, he could see the shape of a man—Reyes—moving back and forth, pacing. Muttering. Clutching the bag like it would vanish if he let go.
Merlin's voice came across the rune softly.
"Ready."
Then the light shifted.
A golden shimmer swept across the yard, silent and fast, blanketing the space in an invisible dome. The streetlights dimmed. The air pulled tight like a breath being held.
Jim moved in first, hands steady, claws tucked but ready.
Claire and NotEnrique reached the back door. Claire twisted the handle slowly—it was unlocked.
She opened it.
Reyes stood in the kitchen, halfway between the sink and the doorway, bag still clutched tight.
He turned—eyes wide, face pale.
"You—who are—"
"Don't run," Jim said as he stepped through the front.
Merlin entered behind them, the dome sealing fully.
"You're safe," Claire added, her voice careful. "We don't want to hurt you. We just need to talk."
But Reyes didn't speak.
He stared.
At Claire.
And his eyes—already wide—widened further.
He saw something.
Not on her.
In her.
"No," he whispered, backing up.
NotEnrique stepped in front of the back door, blocking the exit.
"I've seen that glow before," Reyes muttered. "You think I don't know what that book is? What it does? You think it doesn't see you back?"
He dropped the bag.
It hit the floor with a thud.
Everyone froze.
Merlin reached forward carefully. "Don't move."
Claire didn't blink. Her heart pounded. Something was wrong. She could feel it crawling beneath her skin.
Jim picked up the bag slowly, opening it just enough to see—
The Codex.
The room dimmed.
Merlin moved fast, drawing a sigil in the air, then slammed it into Reyes's chest with a wave of golden energy. The man's body went rigid, then slack—eyes dull, head tilting forward.
Memory wiped.
Just like that.
Contained.
Codex secured.
Plan successful.
Almost.
Claire didn't breathe.
She reached for her mirror—Merlin's mirror.
The moment her fingers touched it—
Crack.
The sound was small. Soft.
But the mirror split clean down the middle.
No pressure. No impact.
Just broken.
Claire stared.
She didn't say a word.
And deep in her chest, something pulsed.
Slow.
Warm.
Ancient.
Jim's head snapped toward the sound the second it broke.
Crack.
The mirror hadn't fallen. Hadn't hit anything. It just... fractured.
Everyone heard it.
Merlin froze.
Claire's hand hovered above the broken shard, eyes wide. She didn't say anything. Her fingers curled slowly into a fist and she dropped the mirror back into her pouch like it burned.
NotEnrique was the first to speak.
"Okay. Nope. We're done here. Time to go."
Jim looked at Claire. "You alright?"
She nodded. "I'm fine."
Liar. Her voice was flat. Empty.
Merlin didn't press. He just turned, the containment spell on Reyes fading as the man slumped gently to the floor, unharmed, unaware, unburdened.
"Mission's complete," he said tightly. "Let's return. Now."
No one argued.
Jim gripped the cylinder tight, slinging it securely over his back. He could feel the Codex inside—quiet, but not dormant. It was almost like it was... waiting.
They exited the house fast and clean, NotEnrique erasing their tracks with salt dust as they moved.
The street was still empty.
Too empty.
Merlin didn't even wait to dismiss the illusion spells—they shattered behind them like fragile glass as soon as they were out of range.
No one spoke for the next eight blocks.
Claire didn't look at anyone.
NotEnrique didn't crack a joke.
And Jim kept glancing over his shoulder like something was following them—even though nothing was.
By the time the cave came into view again, night had completely swallowed the sky.
And deep in Claire's pouch, under shattered glass and runes,
the broken mirror was bleeding shadow.
No one saw it.
Not yet.
They slipped through the cave's veil of woven shadows just past midnight, and the moment the first boot hit the stone floor—
"By Draal's beard, that was fast!" Blinky's voice rang from deeper inside, wide-eyed and blinking as he hurried to greet them. "You were barely gone thirty minutes—forty at most! Was there no resistance? No trap? No... ancient summoning circle made of bones?"
Jim gave a short shake of his head. "Smooth. Too smooth."
"Suspiciously smooth," NotEnrique added, eyes narrowed. "It's like the universe finally gave us a win just to mess with us later."
Blinky tilted his head. "Or perhaps things are, for once, going according to plan?"
Merlin strode past him without a word, staff already casting protective layers around the container as he moved toward the inner chamber. "Get me space. I'm sealing it again."
Claire didn't move.
She stood at the edge of the cave's torchlight, fingers slowly pulling the mirror from her pouch.
It was still intact—technically. No shards had fallen. No cracks had pierced the surface. But it was broken.
The glass was webbed with faint black fractures, like veins of rot curling outward from the center.
She stared at it.
It stared back.
The reflection wasn't wrong… but it wasn't right either. Her face looked dull. Dimmer. Like the light didn't quite touch her skin the same way.
Jim noticed first. "Claire?"
She didn't answer.
Blinky turned next, blinking at the object in her hands. "Is that the mirror Merlin gave you?"
Now everyone was watching.
Merlin froze mid-chant.
Then slowly turned.
His eyes locked onto the glass—and for the first time in a very long time, he looked truly unsettled.
"What happened?" he asked.
Claire didn't look up. Her thumb ran over the cracks. Still no loose shards. Just... splintered silence.
"It cracked when we sealed the Codex," she said. Her voice wasn't shaking. Just low.
"Cracked?" Merlin stepped forward. "You didn't drop it? No impact?"
"Nope," NotEnrique cut in. "We all heard it. It snapped like a twig in a snowstorm. And she hadn't even touched it yet."
Merlin extended a hand. "May I?"
Claire hesitated.
Then she passed it over.
He held the mirror in his palm, turning it slightly. The fractures didn't reflect like normal cracks—they shimmered, just barely, like oil on water.
"This mirror was shielded with clarity and reflection wards," Merlin murmured. "Designed to reject invasive thought magic, illusion, dream residue…"
He trailed off.
Then: "It didn't just crack. It absorbed something."
Claire's head snapped up. "From the Codex?"
"Possibly," Merlin muttered, scanning the surface. "Or… something that recognized you when you got too close."
Jim stepped forward. "But the Codex never left the containment field. None of us touched it directly."
"No," Merlin said. "But it doesn't need physical contact. A powerful enough entity could use spiritual threads… latching onto whatever was weakest. Or most familiar."
Claire felt everyone watching her now.
She clenched her jaw. "I didn't feel anything."
"That doesn't mean nothing felt you," Merlin said quietly.
And that's when the shadows inside the cracks shifted—
Just slightly.
Enough for Merlin to mutter a ward under his breath and seal it tight in a cloth rune. He passed it back to Claire with a frown.
"Keep it with you. But do not look into it again until I say otherwise."
"What does it mean?" Jim asked.
Merlin didn't answer right away.
Then: "It means the Codex recognized her. And something else... recognized it back."
No one spoke.
The cave felt smaller.
Colder.
Claire tucked the mirror away.
The silence stretched long enough to become uncomfortable.
Claire shifted her weight, eyes fixed on the pouch now tied tight at her hip, where the wrapped mirror pulsed with the barest heat.
Merlin turned slightly, muttering something under his breath as if still working through the implications. Jim opened his mouth to say something, but NotEnrique beat him to it.
"Hold on."
His voice cut clean across the quiet.
"Wait—wait. I just realized something."
Everyone looked at him. He waved a hand like trying to catch his own thoughts.
"If the book noticed Claire," he started, brows furrowed. "And then something… noticed it back through her—what does that mean?"
Claire blinked, caught off guard.
Jim's frown deepened.
NotEnrique kept going, stumbling a little over his words but too far in to stop.
"I mean... if the Codex saw something in Claire, and that something recognized the Codex back—like... like they already knew each other or something—then…"
He paused, face screwing up.
"Then what the hell's in Claire?"
That hit like a bolt.
Merlin's head shot up.
Jim straightened, eyes wide, realization dawning—but not in relief. In dread.
Even Claire didn't move. Her chest rose with a slow, careful breath—but she didn't deny it.
And in that moment, all of them—Merlin, Jim, NotEnrique—stared at her like they were seeing her for the first time.
She didn't flinch.
But she couldn't look at any of them either.
Merlin's voice was quiet. Careful.
"Claire... is there something you need to tell us?"
Claire stared at the floor.
Claire's heart pounded in her chest.
Her fingers clenched at her sides. Her throat felt too tight, too dry, like even a small word might shatter the stillness wrapped around them.
Merlin was still watching her.
So was Jim.
So was NotEnrique—less suspicious, more confused, like he hadn't expected his own question to hit that hard.
And that voice...
That voice in her head…
She didn't know if it was Morgana or someone else now.
"They're finally asking the right question."
"No," Claire said quickly. "No, it's—there's nothing."
Her voice cracked on the second "no," a half-second tremble. She cleared her throat, trying to cover it, but it didn't matter.
Jim stepped forward slightly. "Claire…"
"I'm fine," she said too fast. "Really. I didn't feel anything. It was just the mirror. Probably old magic. Leftover—feedback or something."
"You're sweating," NotEnrique pointed out, not meanly, just... observant.
She was.
She hadn't even realized it, but a thin sheen clung to her brow and under her jawline. Her hands were damp, her fingers cold. Like her body knew something she wouldn't admit.
Merlin exhaled slowly, like he was trying not to jump to conclusions. "Claire… the Codex isn't just a cursed relic. It's a beacon. If it marked you—or if something reached through it to see you—we need to know what it saw."
"I don't know," Claire said. "Okay? I don't know."
Jim's voice was softer now. "But something's been happening. Hasn't it?"
Claire's jaw tightened.
A flicker of shadow crossed her eyes. A heartbeat's worth of time.
She didn't say anything.
Didn't have to.
Because Merlin saw it.
Jim felt it.
And for the first time, NotEnrique didn't crack a joke.
Merlin finally stepped back, just a little, letting the tension soften without releasing it.
"We'll table it for now," he said, voice low. "But this isn't over."
Claire nodded, stiff. She turned away before anyone could see the shake in her hands.
Claire's heart pounded in her chest.
Her fingers clenched at her sides. Her throat felt too tight, too dry, like even a small word might shatter the stillness wrapped around them.
Merlin was still watching her.
So was Jim.
So was NotEnrique—less suspicious, more confused, like he hadn't expected his own question to hit that hard.
And that voice...
That voice in her head…
She didn't know if it was Morgana or someone else now.
"They're finally asking the right question."
"No," Claire said quickly. "No, it's—there's nothing."
Her voice cracked on the second "no," a half-second tremble. She cleared her throat, trying to cover it, but it didn't matter.
Jim stepped forward slightly. "Claire…"
"I'm fine," she said too fast. "Really. I didn't feel anything. It was just the mirror. Probably old magic. Leftover—feedback or something."
"You're sweating," NotEnrique pointed out, not meanly, just... observant.
She was.
She hadn't even realized it, but a thin sheen clung to her brow and under her jawline. Her hands were damp, her fingers cold. Like her body knew something she wouldn't admit.
Merlin exhaled slowly, like he was trying not to jump to conclusions. "Claire… the Codex isn't just a cursed relic. It's a beacon. If it marked you—or if something reached through it to see you—we need to know what it saw."
"I don't know," Claire said. "Okay? I don't know."
Jim's voice was softer now. "But something's been happening. Hasn't it?"
Claire's jaw tightened.
A flicker of shadow crossed her eyes. A heartbeat's worth of time.
She didn't say anything.
Didn't have to.
Because Merlin saw it.
Jim felt it.
And for the first time, NotEnrique didn't crack a joke.
Merlin finally stepped back, just a little, letting the tension soften without releasing it.
"We'll table it for now," he said, voice low. "But this isn't over."
Claire nodded, her shoulders went still.
She turned only slightly, breath catching. "Okay. I'm just gonna grab something to—"
"No," Jim said, stepping forward, voice low but firm. "We can't do that. We can't just let this go."
Claire froze.
Jim's tone wasn't aggressive, but it was real—unshakable, grounded in the way only someone who truly knew her could be. "If something's wrong," he said, "we need to know. Claire... what is it?"
He hesitated. Then, gently:
"Is it Morgana?"
The cave dimmed in silence. No one moved.
Before Claire could speak, Blinky, still nearby, lifted his head sharply. "That's impossible. Claire cast Morgana out during the last confrontation. She withstood the full severance of their magical tether—any lingering trace would've been purged completely."
Claire didn't meet anyone's eyes.
Not Jim's.
Not Blinky's.
Not even NotEnrique, who stood fidgeting nearby, unusually quiet.
Jim took another step, softer now. "Claire, I'm serious. Your mirror shattered without contact. You've been off since before the mission. You haven't looked at me once since we got back. Something happened back there. I saw it."
He lowered his voice—not a demand, but a plea.
"Please. Don't lie to me."
Claire's jaw clenched, but she exhaled slowly, her voice finally emerging—strained.
"I don't know if it's Morgana."
That made everyone go still.
"I've been seeing things," she continued. "Not just today. Not just with the Codex. For a while now."
She swallowed hard, her voice shaking just enough to be real.
"At first, it was little things. Like shadows... or reflections that didn't move when I did. Then I started hearing things—whispers. Sometimes in my sleep. Sometimes when I was fully awake."
Jim's face tightened.
Merlin stood silently across the chamber, gaze heavy, unreadable.
Claire lifted her head just enough to meet Jim's eyes.
"They started before the Codex. Before we ever knew Reyes had it. I didn't say anything because... I didn't want to scare anyone."
NotEnrique finally spoke, voice low. "You were scared though. Weren't you?"
Claire nodded. "Still am."
Merlin's head turned slowly.
His voice was quiet. Focused. "What have you been seeing?"
Claire hesitated. Then, with a breath:
"A couple days ago… after I made NotEnrique take a bath—"
"I still say that was cruel and unusual punishment," NotEnrique muttered under his breath. "You have no idea what that soap did to me."
Claire didn't even smile.
"I went to wash up after. Alone," she said, voice tighter now. "I looked in the water. The reflection didn't look like me. My eyes were—" she paused, breathing through it, "—inky black. Like ink was dripping straight out of them. And my face…"
She touched her cheek lightly.
"It was cracked. Like porcelain. Like I'd been broken and put back together wrong."
The silence that followed wasn't surprise.
It was confirmation.
Merlin's expression darkened.
"There was another time," she said quietly. "Before the competition. I was just walking. Sun was out. Nothing weird."
She swallowed.
"And then for, like, three seconds… everything turned black and white. Not colorless—just wrong. Like someone drained the light out of everything but left the shadows." Merlin's brows twitched. That got his attention.
"I blinked and it was gone," she added quickly. "It didn't happen again. I thought maybe I was tired, or—"
"Color-warp," Merlin muttered. "Shadow flattening. Displacement haze…"
Claire blinked. "What?"
He didn't answer. He was pacing now, moving his hand through the air as if flipping through an invisible book, lips pressed tight.
NotEnrique raised a brow. "Uh… are you gonna share with the class, or are we just gonna watch you unravel in Latin?"
Merlin ignored him. He finally stopped walking.
Then turned to Claire.
"You said these visions, these distortions… they happened before the Codex?"
Claire nodded. "Weeks ago."
"Which means this isn't an infection," he murmured. "It's a resonance. A matching frequency. Something already inside you… and the Codex just amplified it."
Jim stepped closer. "Amplified what?
Merlin looked at Claire, and for a moment, there was something in his expression Claire wasn't used to seeing.
Not calculation. Not suspicion.
Fear.
"There are older things," he said softly. "Older than Morgana. Older than Gunmar. Creatures and spirits that predate the creation of our magical records. Things that don't leave footprints—but echoes."
He turned his head slightly, like thinking hurt.
"One of them may have marked you. Or… remembered you."
Claire's skin prickled. "What does that mean?"I don't know yet," Merlin admitted, and that made it worse. "But I intend to find out."
The container sat in the center of a spell circle—glowing faintly, lines of ink burned into the stone beneath it. Merlin stood over it, hands hovering as he sealed the runes tighter with every pass.
Thick, bitter-smelling smoke drifted from the edges of the warded cylinder.
Jim watched from the edge of the cave, arms crossed, fingers twitching with tension he couldn't shake. Claire stood a few paces back, trying not to look at the container at all.
NotEnrique broke the silence first.
"So… are we giving it back to Jamal, or what?"
Merlin didn't flinch, but his concentration deepened. He added another seal to the top ring.
Jim exhaled through his nose. "He hasn't heard from us since the handoff. It's been a day."
Claire's voice was quiet. "Can we afford to?"
Everyone looked at her.
She glanced at the container—just for a second. "This book shouldn't be in anyone's hands. But we need the money. We need a way out of here. The van, the supplies—this was supposed to pay for that."
NotEnrique raised both hands. "So we're keeping it and ditching the guy? Real classy."
"We don't have a choice," Claire snapped, then immediately dropped her voice. "He wasn't honest with us either. He knew what it was. He knew how dangerous it could be, and he still wanted us to put it in his hands like it was a pair of shoes."
Blinky, standing off to the side, cleared his throat.
"Then it seems," he said, "we may need to split."
Everyone turned to him.
"Not all of us will fit in whatever transportation is secured," he added. "And this mission was never just about travel. The trolls we brought with us still need shelter. A Heart Stone. A home."
Nomura stepped out from the back of the cave, arms crossed, jaw set.
"That's why I've started preparing them," she said. "If this gets worse—and it will—we need to be ready to move."
Jim turned toward her, brow creased. "We can't move them yet. We don't even know where the Heart Stone is."
"Which is still our main goal," Nomura replied, voice sharp. "Find the Heart Stone. Find a place the trolls can survive. That hasn't changed."
Merlin stepped back from the seal, wiping ash from his fingers.
"The Codex is stable—for now," he said. "But Claire is right. It's not safe. And if we're not returning it to Jamal…"
He let the words hang in the air.
Then Jim looked toward the cave mouth, voice low.
"Then we're not just protecting ourselves anymore. We're protecting everyone else from it too."
Claire took a sharp breath, her arms crossed tight across her chest now.
"But we also don't know if Jamal knows we have it," she said suddenly.
Jim glanced over. "You think he might?"
"All it takes is Reyes," Claire said, her voice climbing a bit—not panicked, but pressed. "All it takes is for Jamal to come across him. And what happens when he realizes the guy has no memory of the book? No clue what the Codex Gigas even is?"
The cave went still.
Claire kept going. "He might've sent someone to check in already. Or maybe he hasn't. But if he does, and Reyes doesn't remember anything? Then it's obvious. We took it. We didn't return it. And we didn't say a word."
Her fingers tightened. "That's not just a broken deal. That's a changeling who now thinks we betrayed him. One we don't understand. One who used to run with Gunmar before he went 'neutral.'"
She looked at Merlin, then Jim.
"We don't know what Jamal is capable of. Especially if he had the Codex before it was stolen."
NotEnrique whistled low. "So... worst-case scenario: ancient death magic, and now an angry ex–Gunmar ally hunting us down for it. Sweet."
Blinky's voice was cautious. "We may need to start scouting for another location soon—just in case."
Claire exhaled hard, jaw clenched. "We need to move. Fast."
The conversation faded into a heavy silence.
Jim sat still, one hand resting on his leg, the other loosely curled near his knee. His eyes were locked on the sealed container, but he wasn't looking at it—he was thinking.
Hard.
Finally, he spoke, voice low and even.
"…What if we talk to Jamal?"
Claire turned, brow furrowing. "What do you mean, talk to him?"
Jim looked up. "I mean face him. Ask him directly."
Claire blinked, not following yet.
"We have no idea why he wants this book," Jim said. "All we know is that he had it once, it was stolen, and he wanted it back. But we've seen what it does. What it could do to someone not protected by half a dozen layers of magic."
Merlin glanced toward him now, silent but listening.
Jim stood slowly, brushing dust off his palms. "What if… we don't give it back? Not yet. We keep it contained—here. Safe. I go to Jamal. Maybe Merlin comes too. Or Claire, if she wants. We talk to him."
"Talk to him," Claire repeated, half skeptical, half wary.
"Yeah. We confront him with the truth," Jim said. "That book is dangerous. We know it. He didn't warn us. He gave us a vague job, a fat prize, and left out the part where it could've corrupted someone or worse."
NotEnrique made a low hmmph sound. "Not exactly a friendly Yelp review."
"We go to him with our concerns," Jim continued, ignoring him. "We ask him directly: why do you want it? What are you planning to do with it? Because from where we're standing, he let us walk into something that could've killed us without so much as a heads-up."
Claire stared at him, arms crossed again. "You think he'll just tell us?"
Jim shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. But if we show up not empty-handed, not combative, just aware—he might respect that."
"And if he doesn't?" Claire asked.
Jim looked her in the eye.
"Then we walk away with more than we started with. Either he proves he's not to be trusted—or he gives us just enough to understand what he's really after."
Claire went quiet, chewing the inside of her cheek.
Merlin, at last, gave a small nod. "It's a calculated risk. But you may be right."
And just like that—
The plan was made.
The choice was set.
And the moment they decided to face Jamal—
—they were there.
The building looked different at night.
What had once been buzzing with cameras, glitter, and high-pitched chaos was now quiet. The posters had been stripped down. The lot was half-lit by dim security lights. A few people moved around the edges of the block, shadows disappearing into alleyways.
Claire stood beside Jim; arms tucked tight into her jacket. NotEnrique hung back, perched casually on the lip of a cracked concrete planter, trying not to look like backup.
Merlin stood just behind them both, cloak pulled tighter over his shoulders, a dim rune pulsing at the corner of his sleeve.
And Jamal?
He was right there.
Leaning against the same gate they'd met him at before, arms crossed, glasses glinting under the orange lamplight.
He didn't look surprised to see them.
Didn't even blink.
He just said, cool and calm:
"Took you long enough."
Thanks For Reading!
~ { C.R.B Tae Shears}