Vlad clung to my side as we ran among the dirt of the ruins. Where were we going? I hadn’t a clue. I ran where my legs took me, and never looked beyond what was before me, clutching the scrolls I’d taken from a box my mother had left for me, so many years ago.
“We’ll never get away,” Vlad fretted.
“Don’t look back,” I said, “I read of a place,” I pointed just ahead.
A library. Such a word was foreign to us; the people of Newfound-York. This place had long since buried beneath the rubbles of the old world; a city left to nature’s cruel and disorganized assault.
The Palads serving the Archons gave chase, yet, somehow, my heart took solace in the fact that the library would give sanctuary against their oppression.
We were sure in our flight, leading our chasers along darkened alleyways long forgotten, and leaving less than a footprint to mark our passing when a shadowed figure barred our progress…
“You are far from the umbrella of the Archons!” the voice was female.
“We seek the library!” I said.