Brando's KryoWatch showed 10:57 PM. The Academy corridors' lights had been dimmed to minimum, leaving only a faint bluish glow reflecting off the volcanic stone walls. Brando was posted in the blind spot Giordano had identified, right under the Protector's statue whose pedestal created that shadow zone where the cameras couldn't reach him.

  Where the fuck are you, Giordano?

  Rusty was crouched at his feet with eyes wide open and alert. However, suddenly he turned—someone was approaching. Giordano materialized from the shadows with a nervous grin.

  "You know what the maximum penalty is for Academy property violation? Like eighteen lifetimes, figure that."

  "You're late," Brando replied, ignoring the attempt to lighten the mood.

  "Had to take a longer route. There's an extra patrol in the east corridor." Then he extracted the frequency disruptor from his jacket's inner pocket. "I checked the battery, should last about forty minutes."

  Brando nodded, checking his KryoWatch one last time. "Let's recap. We enter through the ventilation duct in the back, reach the library, find shelf 42, extract the documents and get out. Maximum time?"

  "Thirty minutes," Giordano replied. "If we take longer, the chances of being discovered increase exponentially. This isn't a game, Brando. If they catch us, we're out. Best case scenario."

  They moved in silence, staying in the shadow zones while traversing the side corridor leading to the Academy's east wing. Rusty trotted ahead of them with his third eye glowing faintly. Every so often he'd stop, tilting his head as if listening to something only he could hear.

  "He's acting strange," Giordano whispered when they stopped in a dark corner.

  "Let's find out why," Brando replied, crouching beside Rusty. He raised his hand and materialized a small sphere of Sync Ice.

  "You sure?" Giordano asked, looking nervously over his shoulder. "What if something goes wrong?"

  "It won't," Brando interrupted, hoping he was right. Brando called softly and Rusty turned immediately. He offered the sphere, Rusty studied it for a few moments with all three eyes, then swallowed it without hesitation. The effect was immediate.

  The world around Brando split in two.

  It was as if his brain had been cut in half, each connected to a different circuit. On one side, he continued to perceive normally through his eyes: he saw Giordano, the dark corridor, felt the floor beneath his feet. On the other, suddenly, he was experiencing the world through Rusty, and this new reality overwhelmed him like a wave.

  He could see smells, like clouds of color floating in the corridor. The metallic scent of drones that had patrolled the corridor appeared as bluish trails hanging in the air. Giordano's scent was an amber cloud that enveloped him completely. Even the smell of the volcanic stone walls had a tangible presence of gray buzzing.

  Brando staggered for a moment, stunned by the double perception. His brain struggled to process both information streams simultaneously.

  "Brando?" Giordano's voice reached him distorted, as if speaking underwater. "You okay?"

  "There's a guard," he said suddenly, focusing on Rusty's vision. "About fifteen meters, around that corner."

  "How do you know?" Giordano whispered, scanning the dark corridor where not a soul could be seen.

  "Rusty can smell him, and the heat too. He's stationary, I think he's checking something on his KryoWatch."

  "So what do we do?" Giordano asked quietly.

  "There's another route," Brando replied. "See that grate halfway down the corridor? It leads to a maintenance passage. Rusty can feel the air moving from there."

  They moved silently, bypassing the guard and slipping into the service duct. It was narrow and dusty, but Brando could move with surprising confidence thanks to the double vision.

  Thanks to the Sync Ice, they managed to avoid all obstacles with discrete ease through stealthy maneuvers and detours. Then they found themselves facing the main entrance. It was closed, but Giordano quickly identified a ventilation grate that should lead directly to the main section.

  "You first," he whispered to Brando. "You're our canine radar."

  Brando slid into the duct, followed by Rusty and finally Giordano. The metal beneath them creaked slightly, making them freeze each time waiting for an alarm that never came. Finally they reached the grate overlooking the library.

  Brando opened the ventilation grate and the two lowered themselves silently into the library. Through Rusty's eyes, Brando studied the environment. The Academy library was an immense circular hall, with shelves rising three stories connected by wrought iron spiral staircases. Most of the books seemed decades old, bound in materials that emanated a strange glow to Rusty's sensitive eyes. Then, Brando noticed something strange. Something was off.

  "No one in sight," Brando whispered. "But someone was here recently. Rusty can smell it."

  Giordano didn't pay too much attention to what Brando said and thought to extract from an inner pocket a small hand-drawn map.

  "Shelf 42," he murmured, orienting himself. "Should be in the east sector, second level."

  They cautiously climbed the spiral staircase, with Rusty scouting ahead. Brando felt increasingly comfortable with the double vision, as if his brain was beginning to integrate the two streams into a single enhanced perception.

  "It's here," Giordano whispered, pointing to a number engraved in golden chrome on a shelf. "Number 42."

  They opened it and among many documents, at its center was a heavy book bound in what Brando would have sworn was black leather.

  "That one," he declared, feeling drawn to the volume like a magnet. Even Rusty had frozen—the book emanated a faint glow visible only through his senses.

  Giordano reached out and took it cautiously. "It's cold," he murmured, placing it on a nearby reading table. "Freezing."

  Brando understood what he meant as soon as he touched the cover. The book wasn't cold because the room temperature was low: it emanated an active cold, seemed almost to breathe.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  "I can't read the title," Giordano said, cautiously opening the cover. "It's written in some strange language."

  The first page was covered in symbols that seemed to move imperceptibly, refusing to stay still long enough to be read. Brando placed a finger on the page following some kind of instinct that had appeared randomly to him. The symbols seemed to react to his touch, reorganizing like metallic particles attracted to a magnet.

  "What the fuck...?" Giordano whispered, as the symbols transformed into recognizable letters.

  "It's responding to my presence," Brando murmured. The frontispiece finally revealed itself in a comprehensible language.

  CRYOGENIC ANOMALIES: DEVIATION PROJECT

  Protocols and Documentation Classification: ULTRA CLASSIFIED

  "Jackpot," Giordano murmured, already preparing his KryoWatch to scan the pages.

  Brando began flipping rapidly. The book contained detailed information about experiments conducted on Bearers in the decades following the Alien Artifact's appearance. One section in particular caught his attention. The title was printed in larger characters and seemed to pulse on the page.

  PROJECT KARANTI

  "Karanti" (derived from ancient Sumerian "kar-an-ti", literally "sacred vessel") represents the culmination of the Deviation Project. While previous subjects manifested structural instability when exposed to Class A synthetic nanospores, the Karanti protocol has produced unprecedented results. Subject SG73 showed exceptional compatibility with ethereal material, developing a completely unique Cold Veins system...

  Brando felt his heart accelerate. The entity in the Labyrinth had called him "Karanti." It wasn't a name, but a designation. A code for something created with a specific purpose.

  He quickly turned the page, finding a reference to a complementary project.

  ...the Khepera project (from the Egyptian root "kheper", he who becomes) represents the necessary antithesis to Karanti. The two elements were conceived as complementary parts of a single containment system...

  "Start scanning," Brando whispered to Giordano, but his friend was already cursing under his breath.

  "The disruptor... something's wrong," he murmured, tapping the device that had started emitting a faint buzz. "Fuck, it's overheating. Someone's activated a countersignal."

  Rusty suddenly emitted a low growl, turning toward the library entrance. Through his eyes, Brando saw a heat signature approaching: someone was entering the library. They were coming toward them.

  "We need to go," Brando whispered, quickly closing the book. "Now."

  "But we haven't yet—"

  "Now."

  They hastily put the book back in its place and turned toward the ventilation grate they'd entered through. But Rusty was motionless with eyes fixed on a point behind them. The two turned slowly.

  A figure stood between the shelves, wrapped in a white uniform more ornate than normal. But it wasn't the uniform that captured attention: it was the helmet. Where there should have been a human face, there was an imposing helmet of orange permanent ice, though signs of various colored paintings could be seen adorning it. It looked like a Norse Valkyrie helmet, with lateral horns that curved elegantly upward and face protection that revealed only two eye slits, from which emanated an emerald green light.

  "Fuck," Giordano hissed. "It's one of the Four Aces."

  Brando felt his Cold Veins freeze. One of the Four Aces? And what were they doing there? The figure didn't move, simply observing them through those disturbing luminous slits. Then slowly raised a hand.

  Brando instinctively got into a defensive position, ready to materialize ice, but instead of attacking them, the figure simply pointed to the book they had just consulted.

  "Project Karanti," said a female voice from inside the helmet, surprisingly soft despite the intimidating appearance. "You're looking for answers, aren't you, Brando Casadei?"

  Brando remained paralyzed, not only because an Ace knew his name, but because she seemed to know exactly what he was looking for.

  "How... how do you know who I am?"

  The figure took a few steps forward, moving with a grace that contradicted the uniform's menacing air. "You'd be surprised to know how many things I know about you."

  Rusty, to Brando's surprise, showed no signs of aggression. The puppy tilted his head, as if listening to something only he could hear.

  "Your Pseudo-Glacial perceives something," the figure said, tilting her head slightly.

  With a deliberately slow gesture, she raised both hands toward the helmet. Brando tensed, ready to materialize ice in defense, but what happened completely threw him off.

  The figure hesitated while keeping her hands steady on the helmet. "What I'm about to do violates every Academy protocol," she said in a lower voice. "But I believe the circumstances require it."

  Slowly, she removed the permanent ice helmet, revealing a feminine face with proud, sharp features. A cascade of copper-colored hair framed her face, falling like a soft wave on her shoulders. Her eyes maintained that almost unnatural green luminosity.

  "Finally we meet, Brando Casadei. And you must be Giordano Volpe."

  Brando remained motionless, unable to take his eyes off the woman. She must have been about forty, but her face presented that fierceness typical of powerful Bearers. A thin scar crossed her right cheek, and it shone as if it had been treated with ice at 0 Kelvin temperature.

  "Who are you?" Brando asked, feeling his voice hoarse with tension.

  The woman tilted her head slightly. "They know me as Folgore. One of the Four Aces, as your friend brilliantly deduced." Her gaze shifted to Giordano, who seemed paralyzed in place but found the strength to say something.

  "Why are you showing us your face? I thought the Four Aces never revealed their identity."

  "Good observation." She rotated the orange helmet in her hands, studying the permanent ice as if seeing it for the first time. "It's difficult to trust someone without a face, especially for someone like you, Brando Casadei, who grew up believing that people like me can only be enemies." Her supernatural eyes fixed on Brando's. "If I want your trust, I must first give you mine."

  Brando and Giordano exchanged a confused, almost panicked look. An Ace's identity was a state secret, something that not even many of the Academy's big shots knew. And now this woman had just violated one of the Polis's most sacred taboos for them?

  "Shit," Giordano murmured, running a hand through his hair. "I'd almost prefer not to have known."

  "If someone discovers we know your identity, I don't know how we might end up," Brando completed. It seemed like a trap, a situation too absurd. An Ace revealing her face to two random students? Impossible.

  Rusty, however, didn't seem frightened. Instead of maintaining a defensive position in front of Brando, the puppy cautiously advanced toward Folgore.

  Brando, still connected to Rusty through the Sync Ice, immediately perceived what the puppy was feeling: no threat or hostility, only a strange familiarity, as if he had already encountered this person somehow.

  "Rusty senses something in you," Brando said, surprised by the puppy's reaction. "He doesn't perceive you as a danger. And Rusty doesn't make mistakes when it comes to judging people."

  Folgore slowly knelt, placing the permanent ice helmet on the floor and extended a hand toward Rusty. "Pseudo-Glacials have a perception that goes beyond our senses. They perceive pure intentions much better than we can."

  Rusty advanced further, cautiously sniffing Folgore's extended hand. Then, with a movement that surprised even Brando, the puppy pressed his third eye against the woman's palm. A flash of bluish light flickered at the contact point, and through the Sync Ice connection, Brando perceived a flow of emotions: safety, protection, and a strange sense of recognition. Then Folgore caressed Rusty's rough coat, gently passing her fingers over his head. The puppy visibly relaxed under the touch, emitting a low sound that resembled a purr.

  "What did he just do?" Giordano asked, having taken a step back in surprise.

  Folgore smiled. "He verified my energy signature. It's typical behavior of more evolved Pseudo-Glacials. They try to determine if who they're facing is good or not."

  She slowly stood up, picking up the helmet from the floor. Rusty returned to Brando, but without the previous tension. Through their connection, Brando clearly perceived the puppy's verdict: this woman wasn't a threat, at least not now.

  Brando exchanged a look with Giordano. They still didn't fully trust her, but they would trust Rusty's judgment.

  "If Rusty doesn't consider you a threat, I suppose we can at least listen to what you have to say," Brando conceded, crossing his arms over his chest. Folgore nodded, as if appreciating this small opening. "That's all I ask." She placed the helmet on the table and approached the book they had just put back. "I see you've found what you were looking for, or at least you've begun to understand something."

  "It was you," Brando suddenly realized. "The note. Shelf 42."

  "Yes," Folgore confirmed. "I had to make sure you were capable of acting under pressure. I couldn't simply approach you in public. And I needed to be away from prying eyes."

  "Is it a trap?" Giordano asked. "Did you lure us here to hand us over to the Protector?"

  "If I wanted to hand you over, you'd already be in a cell," Folgore replied. "This is a necessary meeting."

  "For what?" Brando asked.

  "To save Bianca Ruggeri," Folgore replied simply. "Or Khepera, if you prefer."