Sikakama retraced her steps, but it did not take long for her to realize that she no longer knew the way back to her room. When she had first walked through the tower with Mirelle, the place had seemed simple enough. She had not felt as though they had gone very far or passed through an overwhelming number of corridors. Now, however, it was as though the tower had changed around her. The familiar passages branched into one another, the doors seemed to repeat endlessly, and she could no longer remember which corridor she had come from or where her room was supposed to be. There was no one nearby whom she could ask, and even attempting to retrace the route she had taken earlier proved useless; she had completely lost her sense of direction.
She continued wandering until she came upon a pair of adjoining doors. When she opened them cautiously, she found a stone staircase descending into thick darkness. She had no idea where it led, but an oil lamp hung from the wall beside the entrance, with a small box of matches resting beneath it. Sikakama took one of the matches, struck it against the side of the box, and held the flame to the wick. Almost at once, the lamps fixed along the walls began igniting one after another, their flames spreading downward into the darkness until the staircase seemed to transform into a dimly illuminated path leading beneath the tower.
Sikakama descended slowly, one hand holding the lamp while the other brushed against the cold stone wall. The deeper she went, the damper and colder the air became. The place felt far older than any part of the tower she had seen above, as though she were not merely descending to another level but entering something that had been buried beneath the tower long before it was ever built. After what seemed like a much longer journey than she had expected, the staircase finally opened into an enormous hall stretching into the darkness.
It was a library.
Towering shelves filled the vast chamber, rising almost to the ceiling and disappearing into the shadows above. They were packed with countless books, some neatly arranged while others had clearly remained untouched for years. Narrow passages ran between the shelves in every direction, and small oil lamps hung from the walls, casting a dim, amber glow that did little to reveal the true size of the place.
Curiosity overcame Sikakama as she stepped between the shelves. She slowly scanned the titles as she walked, her attention drifting from one ancient volume to another until one particular section caught her eye. Several books bore the same unmistakable title: Knights.
She reached out and carefully pulled one from the shelf before opening it to a random page. The book spoke of the Kingdom of Solaria and the warriors who had been given the title of Great Knights, those who had defended the northern territories and later been honored by the kingdom's rulers for their victories. One illustration showed a knight raising his blade toward the sky, the polished steel catching the sunlight behind him until it appeared as though the sun itself rested upon the edge of his sword.
Sikakama continued walking slowly through the aisles, reading as she went and gradually forgetting everything around her. The world of knights described in the book was different from anything she had ever known, yet it was strangely close to the image she had carried in her imagination since childhood—only far grander than she had ever pictured it. The stories seemed almost too beautiful to belong to the same world she lived in.
"Are you lost?"
Sikakama startled and turned sharply, finding Mirelle standing beside one of the shelves as though she had simply appeared there. Mirelle wore a calm, almost playful smile as she leaned lightly against the shelf and added, "Don't worry. I won't tell Alistair. Besides, coming down here without his permission is technically forbidden."
Sikakama let out a small breath of relief and gave her an embarrassed smile. "Ah... thank you."
She carefully returned the book to its place, but Mirelle continued watching her with quiet amusement before saying, "You seem to like knights."
Sikakama lowered her head slightly and nodded. "I do. But what does it matter? Alistair said drawing the sword was probably nothing more than a coincidence."
She tried to say it casually, but the disappointment beneath her words was impossible to hide. It was the same disappointment that had been weighing on her ever since Alistair had dismissed what happened as mere chance.
Mirelle remained beside the shelf, a faint smile still resting upon her face. Then, almost as though she had decided to change the subject, she asked with sudden curiosity, "Hmm... do you know who the greatest knights had as their companions?"
"Companions?" Sikakama repeated, her expression revealing that she had no idea what Mirelle meant.
Mirelle reached toward one of the shelves and carefully withdrew another old book. She opened it to a particular page before turning toward Sikakama and holding it out for her to see. The illustration depicted an enormous beast with a fierce, almost primordial appearance, its vast wings spread as it soared through the sky.
"They were called the Sky Guardians," Mirelle explained, pointing toward the creature. "They were said to possess the power to command the wind and storms, and in ancient times, they fought alongside the knights. But they were more than mere companions. According to the old records, they were the ones who chose the knights they would fight beside."
She paused, allowing Sikakama a moment to take in the image before continuing in the same matter-of-fact tone, as though she were telling her about a perfectly ordinary piece of history. "If the spirit of a Guardian chose you, you became its knight."
The words settled heavily in Sikakama's mind. She stared at the creature in the illustration, unable to reconcile such a being with the ordinary world she had known all her life. "They... really existed?"
Mirelle smiled faintly. "Of course they did."
Sikakama continued staring at the page, trying to imagine such creatures once flying above Solaria. Then the words Great Knights suddenly returned to her mind—the royal knights whose names had been honored, whose positions had been revered, and whose stories had been preserved in books like this one. Her eyes brightened with renewed interest as she murmured, "Then they must have chosen great knights."
Mirelle noticed the disappointment that had returned to her face, and a hint of playful disbelief entered her expression. "You might be surprised to learn that one of the greatest knights Solaria ever knew looked nothing like the sort of person you would expect a Guardian to choose."
She continued with a more playful tone, as though she were about to tell Sikakama a story she had always found amusing. "He was incredibly thin when he was young. People used to call him a scarecrow. He was frail, the smallest of his brothers, and by far the weakest among them. His parents had practically given up hope that he would ever amount to anything. If the Guardian had chosen one of his brothers instead, no one would have found it strange. They were stronger, healthier, and far more suitable candidates by anyone's standards."
Mirelle gave a quiet laugh and tilted her head. "Yet the Guardian chose him. Quite ironic, don't you think?"
"Frail... and thin..." Sikakama murmured, repeating the words as though they had caught somewhere in her thoughts.
Something about Mirelle changed then. The playful smile faded into something gentler and more solemn, and when she spoke again, her voice carried the quiet weight of someone who had drawn a piece of wisdom from an ancient source. "Because the Guardian saw something in him that no one else could see. His heart. The great are not born... but fate can be stolen by those who dare to strive for it."
Something stirred within her once again, something she had thought she had lost amid everything that had happened. A part of her that had been buried beneath fear, doubt, and confusion began to surface again, reminding her of something she had once held onto so tightly that she had nearly forgotten it.
And then, before her eyes, the library began to change.
The towering shelves seemed to fade into the distance, while the rows of ancient books blurred and intertwined with another place, another time. The warm glow of the lamps merged with the brilliance of a distant sun, and for a fleeting moment, the boundary between the library and a forgotten age seemed to disappear entirely.
There, a lone knight stood beneath the blazing sun, his sword held firmly in his hand. Golden sunlight crowned him, illuminating his figure and bearing witness to his greatness, as though the heavens themselves had chosen him. Around him, the wind swept violently through the air, stirred by the immense wings of a colossal creature soaring behind him. With every powerful beat of its vast wings, currents of wind rushed around the knight, causing his cloak to billow behind him beneath the radiant sky.
The image lingered before her for a moment, vivid enough to feel almost real.
Then Mirelle's voice reached her again, pulling her gently back from that distant world. When she spoke, there was a quiet acceptance in her voice, mixed with a trace of sorrow. "Even so, there are very few of them left now. Even creatures of such power may ultimately meet their end and disappear from the world entirely."
There was something almost mournful in her voice, and Sikakama found herself sharing the feeling without quite understanding why.
"But..." Mirelle continued after a moment, as though recalling a small detail that might not have been important at all, "there are stories that one of them still remains somewhere in Solaria, waiting for its knight."
The words struck something deep inside Sikakama.
"What? Really? There's still one?"
An idea suddenly flashed through her mind.
Yes.
That was what she needed.
If there truly was a Guardian somewhere in Solaria, and if Guardians really chose their knights, then perhaps reaching it was the only way she could prove that drawing the sword had not been a coincidence. Perhaps, for the first time since arriving at the tower, there was something she could do instead of simply waiting for Alistair to decide her fate.
She moved closer to Mirelle, her curiosity suddenly overpowering every trace of hesitation. "Where is it?"
Mirelle hesitated for a moment before answering, and when she finally spoke, there was a slight tension in her voice that had not been there before. "It's... in a hidden tower. But I can show you where it is."
Not long afterward, Sikakama emerged from the hidden library, her mind still consumed by everything Mirelle had told her. When she glanced back, however, there was no trace of the stone staircase or the vast library she had just left behind. The corridor behind her was covered in the familiar red carpet, its walls decorated with the same ordinary patterns she had seen throughout the rest of the tower, as though the secret place beneath it had never existed at all.
She did not stop to question it.
She simply continued walking until she finally found her room.
Inside, she closed the door behind her and approached the bed. Her crimson cloak had been cleaned by one of the servants and neatly folded on top of the sheets, while her old shirt had been washed and placed beside it. Sikakama picked up a small piece of paper and quickly wrote a few words upon it before setting it down beside her clothes.
As she changed, she removed her shirt, revealing the bandages wrapped around her chest. She instinctively placed a hand over them and glanced at her reflection in the mirror before her.
She had made her decision.
And she had no intention of telling Alistair about it.