Chapter 41: Return to Imre

THE UNIVERSITY HAD changed in the weeks I’d been away.

Not the buildings—they stood as they always had, stone and tradition and centuries of accumulated knowledge. But the people moved differently. Conversations stopped when I walked past. Eyes followed me with expressions I couldn’t read.

“Something’s happened,” Simmon said, as we crossed the courtyard. “Something bad.”

“Something’s always happening.” I headed toward the Archives. “I need to find Lorren.”

“Kvothe.” Wil caught my arm. “Look.”

I followed his gaze.

The Archives’ great doors were sealed. Chains wrapped around the handles, linked with iron locks I’d never seen before. And standing guard on either side were members of the iron law—the Cealdish constables who only appeared on campus for the most serious crimes.

“What in the world…”

“The fire,” a voice said behind me. “Three nights ago.”

I turned. Fela stood in the doorway of the Artificery, her face pale. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days.

“Fire?”

“In the restricted stacks. Someone broke through Lorren’s security and set fire to half the collection.” Her voice cracked. “Kvothe, they burned everything. The old texts. The sealed materials. The things Lorren kept locked away because they were too dangerous to access.”

The restricted stacks. The place where the information about the doors would have been stored.

“Did they catch who did it?”

“No.” Fela shook her head. “But there were witnesses. People who saw the person who started the fire.” She hesitated. “They said it was a woman. Young. Dark hair. Beautiful.”

My stomach dropped.

“Denna.”

“No one knows that name. But the description…” Fela looked away. “I know you were involved with someone who looked like that. I didn’t want to believe—”

“It wasn’t her.” The words came out automatically. “It couldn’t have been.”

“Kvothe—”

“Denna would never burn books. She respects knowledge. She…” I stopped, remembering. The patterns on her skin. The way her eyes had gone flat when we’d spoken. The feeling that she wasn’t entirely herself.

Not Denna. Something wearing Denna’s face.

“Where is Lorren?” I asked.

“In the Medica. He tried to save some of the texts and…” Fela’s voice broke. “He’s not well, Kvothe. They don’t know if he’ll recover.”

I found Lorren in a private room, bandages covering most of his body.

He looked smaller than I remembered. Diminished. The fire had done more than burn him—it had broken something essential.

“Kvothe.” His voice was a whisper. “I knew you’d come.”

“Master Lorren, I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t.” He raised a bandaged hand. “Don’t apologize for things you didn’t do. There will be time enough for that later.” A cough rattled through him. “You’re looking for information. About the doors.”

“Yes.”

“Too late.” His eyes closed. “Everything I’d gathered. Every text, every fragment, every piece of the puzzle I’d been assembling for decades. Gone.”

“There has to be something left. Notes. Copies. Something preserved elsewhere.”

“The Amyr kept backup records.” Lorren’s voice was fading. “But those were taken years ago. Moved to a location I was never told.” He coughed again. “Your friend Devi. She knows more than she’s told you. Ask her about Reta. About the woman who trained her.”

“Reta?”

“A name. One of the last true Amyr. She went underground when the purges began, but she taught others. Preserved what she could.” His eyes opened, focused on mine with sudden intensity. “Kvothe. The woman who burned the Archives—it wasn’t Denna. It was something using her body. Something that wanted to destroy everything that might stop the doors from opening.”

“Cinder.”

“Ferule.” Lorren pronounced the name carefully. “His true name. One of seven. The most dangerous because he doesn’t want what the others want.” He gripped my arm with surprising strength. “Stop him, Kvothe. Whatever it takes.”

“How?”

But Lorren’s eyes had closed. His grip slackened. His breathing evened out into the rhythm of drugged sleep.

I sat beside him for a long time, watching the rise and fall of his chest.

Then I went to find Devi.

Her door was locked when I arrived.

Not just locked—sealed with magic I could feel pressing against my senses. Defensive wards. The kind you set up when you’re expecting trouble.

“Devi.” I knocked firmly. “It’s Kvothe. I need to talk to you.”

Silence.

“I know you can hear me. Lorren told me to ask you about Reta. About the woman who trained you.”

The silence stretched. Then, slowly, the wards parted and the door swung open.

Devi stood in the doorway, and she didn’t look like herself. Dark circles under her eyes. Hair unwashed. Hands trembling slightly.

“You shouldn’t have said that name,” she said. “Not here. Not out loud.”

“Can I come in?”

She stepped aside without answering.

Her room was different too. Books scattered everywhere. Papers covered with frantic calculations. And in the center of the table, a binding I recognized—Yllish knots, similar to the ones I’d seen on Denna’s skin.

“You’re researching the doors,” I said.

“I’m trying to understand what’s happening.” She closed the door behind me. “The fire at the Archives. The spreading sickness. The way reality keeps… flickering.”

“Flickering?”

“You haven’t noticed?” She laughed—a harsh, broken sound. “Of course you haven’t. You’ve been gone. But those of us who stayed…” She gestured at the window. “Watch.”

I looked.

For a moment, nothing seemed wrong. The University courtyard, students walking, trees swaying in the wind.

Then I saw it.

The shadows weren’t moving with the light. They stretched in directions that made no sense, as if cast by a sun that wasn’t there. And in the spaces between heartbeats, other shapes appeared—buildings that didn’t exist, people who flickered like candle flames.

“What is that?”

“The doors.” Devi’s voice was flat. “They’re opening faster than anyone expected. The boundary between worlds is thinning. And when it breaks completely…”

“Those shapes will become real.”

“Real isn’t the right word. But yes—they’ll be here. Whatever exists behind the doors will pour through into our world.” She sat heavily in her chair. “Reta warned me this would happen. Years ago. I didn’t believe her.”

“Tell me about Reta.”

Devi told me.

Reta had been a scholar once. A student at the University, centuries ago—though that seemed impossible, given that she was supposed to have trained Devi only decades past. She had studied the doors, the seals, the magic that held them closed.

And when the Amyr fell, when the Church began its purges and anyone associated with them was hunted, Reta had gone underground.

“She found me when I was young,” Devi said. “I had talent—raw, undisciplined, dangerous. She taught me to control it. And in exchange, I helped her research.”

“Research what?”

“Counter-measures. Ways to reinforce the seals without the original Namers. Bindings that could be set in place by people without access to the old knowledge.” Devi looked at the knots on her table. “We made progress. Not enough, but progress.”

“Where is she now?”

“Dead.” The word came out flat. “Three months ago. Killed by the same person who burned the Archives.”

“Cinder.”

“His agent, at least. A woman with dark hair and eyes that didn’t look human.” Devi met my gaze. “Your Denna. Or what’s left of her.”

“It’s not Denna. It’s something wearing her skin.”

“Then free her.” Devi’s voice was sharp. “Because right now, she’s the most dangerous weapon our enemy has. She’s been to places I’ll never reach. Seen things I’ll never see. And she’s being used to destroy everything that might stop the doors from opening.”

“I don’t know how to free her.”

“Then learn.” Devi pushed the knotted binding toward me. “This is what Reta and I were working on. A way to break the kind of compulsion that’s been placed on your friend. It’s not complete—we ran out of time—but the theory is sound.”

I looked at the binding. At the knots that looked so similar to the ones carved into Denna’s skin.

“If I can finish this…”

“Then you might be able to break Cinder’s hold on her. Might. It’s never been tested.”

“But there’s a chance.”

“There’s always a chance.” Devi smiled grimly. “That’s what Reta used to say. The door never closes completely. There’s always a crack. You just have to find it.”

I picked up the binding, felt the magic woven into its fibers.

“Teach me everything you know,” I said. “We don’t have much time.”

“No.” Devi stood. “We don’t. But we might have enough.”