Empire Reborn (Taran Empire Saga Book 1): A Cadicle Space Opera by A.K. DuBoff (jenna bush book club TXT) 📕

wallcovering and stone behind. Since he was effectively breaking the molecular bonds between the materials rather than actually sawing, there was very little dust but a good deal of heat, which he vented into transdimensional space to keep the temperature under control.

Within a minute, the outline of the archway had been fully cut out. Wil then grabbed the wall segment and began sliding it toward them. The wall groaned in protest.

“This structure is solid rock. It’s not going anywhere,” Cris said.

“All right.” With his fear of a collapse assuaged, Wil gave the chunk another firm telekinetic yank.

The section came free with the rumbling grind of stone-on-stone. A spray of dust, loosened from the friction, prompted Wil to put up a shield between the three of them and the opening to cut off the chalky mist. He guided the wall chunk down the corridor in the opposite direction from their exit and set it down. A thud reverberated underfoot as it came to rest.

Through the archway, Saera had her shield intact. Invisible to anyone without Gifts, it showed up as a silver shimmer to Wil’s enhanced senses.

“It feels like there was a good seal in here,” Saera reported. “The air is stagnant.”

As the dust settled, Wil dropped his temporary shield. “I can’t say I know much about document preservation,” he admitted.

“Uh.” Cris shrugged. “I think moderate humidity and temperature.”

Wil assessed the conditions inside the chamber. “Feels okay, I think?”

“I’ll start slowly equalizing the air.” Saera made her shield slightly permeable and allowed the air to begin mixing from the hallway into the room, rather than billowing in with a single gust.

While they waited for the process to complete, Wil shined his handheld’s light inside to start taking visual inventory of the contents.

At first glance, there wasn’t a lot to see. A thin layer of tan dust covered everything in the room. The objects appeared to be in cluttered piles and had no consistency in size and shape. Statues. Crates. Pottery. The only thing uniting the mismatched collection was that it all seemed old. Though no books or other paper were out in the open, he was thankful they had taken precautions while accessing the space.

No energy signatures jumped out at him. But a cursory glance wasn’t sufficient.

“Would something important like an ancient treaty end up here?” Cris asked.

“I don’t have a good reason why, but my gut is telling me ‘yes’.” The feeling had been insistent since Wil first got the idea to visit the island—almost like he was being drawn by a preternatural force to the place. Having looked into the nexus, he respected the universal energies and the patterns woven in complex paths. So, when he was nudged in a direction, he tried to follow the threads to see where he was being led.

“What would this thing even look like?” Saera asked.

It was a good question, and Wil didn’t have a lot to go on. During his prior conversations with the Aesir, they suggested that it would have been a physical record, probably etched in something that could stand the test of time. One would think something like that would stand out, though, and not have been tossed into a random storeroom. Except, Wil didn’t know where else it might be. The Priesthood’s many, many artifacts had already been meticulously cataloged, and there wasn’t anything that fit the description. So, either it was buried somewhere down here, or the Priesthood never had it and the treaty record might be lost forever.

“We’re probably looking for something durable,” Wil said. “I know it’s not helpful, but I think we’ll know it when we see it.”

They began going through the items as carefully as they could, using telekinesis to move around objects rather than their hands as to avoid unnecessary contamination. Nearly half an hour passed, and Wil had yet to see anything valuable.

“These items are totally random,” Cris said, echoing Wil’s thoughts.

Saera nodded. “Yeah, this all seems like useless junk. Like stuff that was dumped in a storage shed because no one knew what else to do with it.”

“Yeah.” Cris nudged a plain, bronze vase with his toe. “Things can get lost over time, but the Priesthood sealed off this room for a reason. It was the reject stuff—items that weren’t even worth removing.”

“I just can’t shake the feeling that it’s close. I don’t know why.” Wil shook his head.

“I trust your instincts,” his father said. “There could be another room like this. We haven’t yet completed this level, and there very well may be others.”

“No, I’m missing something.” He looked around the room again. All old, ugly things. None of this fits the Priesthood’s style. “Maybe I’ve been going about this all wrong. We agreed that a treaty of this importance would have been documented on a material that would last. Gold. Crystal. We’re talking about something maybe a hundred thousand years old. The Priesthood, themselves, used amber and gold to preserve those bodies.” He paused for a few seconds to swallow while his stomach turned over at the thought.

“So,” he continued, “there’s a measure of innate worth to the material itself that we’re looking for, even behind the value of its content. One thing we know for certain about the Priesthood is that they enjoyed being ostentatious. Anything ‘pretty’ or valuable would be on display, not locked in a forgotten room with a bunch of reject junk.”

“Where, though?” Saera held out her arms. “You said yourself, everything else was cataloged.”

Cris pursed his lips in thought. “Could it have been sealed in a shrine or something?”

“Oh, shite.” Wil froze. “Stars, why didn’t I think of it before? We already have the foking thing!”

“What?” Cris asked.

“It’s been right there all along. Stars!” Wil ran back toward the elevator.

“Wil, what are you talking about?” Saera questioned as she ran after