The Prelude to Accomplices and the Nameless Book

“…”

“…”

The forbidden section on the top floor descended into an eerie, almost palpable silence.

I stood with my back to Beatrix, quietly before a towering row of bookshelves, patiently awaiting her answer.

My fingertips unconsciously traced the cool spines of ancient tomes, sensing the weight of countless years.

This was a psychological gambit.

I gambled that her deeply rooted dedication to truth and justice would outweigh her blind loyalty to Elinor.

Time bled away, second by agonizing second.

I could almost hear the slight tremor in her breath, a sign of her inner struggle.

Just as my patience wore thin, her voice, slightly hoarse and imbued with a newfound resolve, echoed from behind me.

“…Over there.”

I slowly turned.

Beatrix remained rooted to her spot, unmoving.

Yet, she raised a hand, pointing towards an unassuming corner on the other side of the room.

There, a section of shelves appeared no different from the rest.

Though a flicker of struggle still marred her features, a glimmer of determination now shone in her golden eyes.

She had made her choice.

Between obedience and the pursuit of truth, she had chosen the latter.

More precisely, she chose to trust the anomalies she had witnessed firsthand, rather than the beliefs others had instilled in her.

From this moment onward, she was no longer merely Elinor’s unquestioning executor.

Instead, she had become a pivotal, wavering witness between Elinor and me.

****

Without another word, I moved towards the direction she had indicated.

Only when I reached the bookshelf did its secret reveal itself.

One section of the shelf was not solid, but a cleverly disguised hidden compartment.

Beatrix stepped forward, pressing several inconspicuous carvings on the side of the shelf with a practiced, intricate method I had never witnessed before.

A soft ‘click’ echoed.

The entire row of bookshelves silently slid aside, revealing a much more concealed, narrow passage, barely wide enough for one person.

Deep within the passage lay a small, completely sealed stone chamber.

At its center stood a single obsidian pedestal.

Upon the pedestal, a book… quietly floated.

It had neither a front nor a back cover, merely a thick stack of black pages, crafted from an unknown beast’s hide, bound together by an unseen force.

From the edges of its pages, wisps of visible black mist continuously emanated, twisting and swirling in the air before being drawn back into the book in an endless cycle.

Merely gazing upon it filled me with an inexpressible sense of oppression and dread, emanating from the very depths of my soul.

“What… is this?”

I asked softly.

“The Book of the Nameless.”

Beatrix stood behind me, her voice low.

“Lady Elinor discovered it as a sole copy within the ruins of the Windermere family. It is said to be the… diary left by the First Child of Chaos from ancient times.”

‘A diary?’

My heart constricted sharply.

“Within it, everything concerning the power of Chaos is recorded.”

Beatrix continued, her gaze fixed intently on the ominous book.

“However, no one has been able to decipher it. The book actively resists any reader it does not acknowledge. To force its reading would, at best, lead to madness, and at worst… one would be utterly consumed by the book’s power.”

She paused, then her golden eyes turned to me, filled with an extreme complexity of emotion.

“Lady Elinor believes that perhaps… only those who are also Children of Chaos can read it.”

‘So that’s it.’

‘This was Elinor’s true purpose in giving me the key.’

‘She wasn’t guiding me; she was using me.’

‘She intended to use my hand to unlock the secrets of this forbidden book, a book even she couldn’t decipher.’

‘Both Beatrix and I were merely pawns of different uses in her game of forbidden knowledge.’

“She truly… knows how to make the most of things.”

I murmured, a trace of undisguised mockery lacing my words.

Beatrix’s lips parted, yet she offered no rebuttal.

Clearly, she had come to the same realization, and the steadfast loyalty within her was once again eroded by the cracks of reality.

I slowly approached the Book of the Nameless, which still hung suspended in the air.

The closer I drew, the more intense the spiritual oppression became.

The sea of magic within me, seemingly sensing a kindred aura, began to slowly and automatically surge, entirely without my conscious command.

I extended my hand, attempting to touch the book.

Just as my fingertips were about to brush against the black pages…

An abrupt change occurred!

The book, like a startled beast, unleashed its black mist, which instantly surged and transformed into countless sharp tendrils, lashing out towards my face and body!

“Watch out!”

Beatrix’s startled cry rang out behind me.

Almost simultaneously, she moved.

I heard only the crisp whisper of a blade being drawn.

A silver streak, imbued with an aura capable of severing all, instantly materialized before me, precisely slicing towards the attacking black tendrils.

However, a horrifying sight unfolded.

Beatrix’s blade, infused with her full power, seemed to vanish into the void upon contact with the black tendrils, failing to stir even the slightest ripple.

The tendrils, as if incorporeal, passed directly through the sword, continuing their assault towards me.

“What?!”

Even Beatrix herself let out a cry of disbelief.

In this critical moment, the sea of magic within me finally roused from its slumber.

It roared, not at my command, but driven by the primal instinct of a monarch unwilling to be provoked.

A darkness far deeper and purer than the tendrils erupted instantly from within me!

It formed no shield, nor did it take any concrete shape.

Instead, it was an absolutely pure domain of darkness, surging forth to instantly envelop both me and the attacking tendrils.

Within that darkness, time and space seemed to lose all meaning.

The grotesque black tendrils, capable of piercing steel, halted their assault the instant they touched the domain I unleashed, as if encountering their sovereign. Then…

They meekly and respectfully dissolved into their primordial mist, slowly and intimately coiling around my fingertips.

All of this, though lengthy to describe, transpired in but a flash of lightning.

When the domain of darkness receded…

The scene within the stone chamber had utterly transformed.

The Book of the Nameless no longer floated; instead, it rested quietly and submissively in my hand.

The black mist, once violent, now gently caressed the back of my hand like a docile pet.

Beatrix, meanwhile, stood stiffly a short distance behind me, still frozen in her sword-wielding stance.

Her golden eyes were locked onto the book in my hand and my other hand, which was entwined with the black mist.

Upon her usually icy face, for the first time ever, appeared an expression mingling awe, bewilderment, and…

A hint of fanaticism she herself had yet to perceive.

She had just witnessed a miracle…

Or perhaps, an undeniable subjugation, befitting a Chaos Monarch.