A Storm of Chaos (The Hunter Legacy #1)

Chapter Twelve

They came to a wide foyer after descending the staircase, where a life-size statue instantly stole Kaya's attention. The statue was of Varalyn himself, the God who could control wind to such a point that it was stated he had once conjured a series of tornadoes, had threatened a warring city with a hurricane, and had a giant beast that looked half a hawk and half a lion to travel the skies with.

The statue, silver-veined marble, depicted Varalyn with a hawk perched on his left forearm, armour with intricate patterns embossed into the breastplate, armguards and shoulders, his cape billowing out behind him just like his hair was. He did look formidable, and her mother's words echoed again in Kaya's mind, warning her of Descendants and Anarchists and anyone who might take advantage of Chaos.

The foyer opened directly onto the walkway that surrounded the interior garden, similar doors like the parlour's balcony left open for the breeze to float through. The foyer's walls were of soft beige while the same timber floorboards from her bedroom followed through into the foyer, and to either side there were matching doors of dark oak. It was to the one labelled LIBRARY that Noah led Kaya, and as he reached the door he pushed it open, holding it for Kaya to enter first.

Walking through, Kaya was once again awestruck by the sheer grandeur of a single room. The library had books lining each wall, with windows above them to let in the daylight, and more shelves segregating the room into sections. There was an older man with an arm full of books walking slowly along the nearest shelf, placing one book here and one book there. He turned when he realised he had company and smiled.

'Good morning, Noah. How can I help you?' he asked cheerily.

'Don't mind us, Liren,' said Noah, gesturing Kaya to follow him. Hers eyes jumped between the rows of books, catching on those with spines of gold that caught the sunlight filtering through the windows.

'Do you enjoy reading?' Noah asked, leading her around the bookshelf that stood directly before them.

Kaya couldn't remember the last time she had read anything other than a scrawled note or signs on the market stalls she stole from, and even as a child her mother hadn't read too many books to her. Instead, her mother had always taught her things – how to cook, how to patch clothes, how to read the stars, use the sun and moon to navigate, even how to tell if a storm was approaching, and how to draw as well. Kaya had always loved learning, but learning to draw she had enjoyed the most.

Even in Klave, Kaya had found ways to draw. Whether it was on misted windows, in the dirt on the ground or with the tip of her dagger against stone. She knew most of what her mother had taught her had been to help her live on her own, as if her mother had known all along what would happen, but teaching her to draw hadn't been. It was a skill Kaya learned because she enjoyed it, not because it had anything to do with Chaos or the impact Chaos had on her life.

Realising she hadn't answered Noah's question, Kaya opened her mouth to respond when she saw the sunken seating area in the centre of the library. A round table sat amongst a circle of cushions and as she drew nearer she realised a map had been drawn onto the table's surface like a mural, a map she recognised as Amaris – all of Amaris – and Kaya was taken aback at how large the land was. She saw the four continents that made Amaris – Draxxus, Reven, Alcaler and L'fay – and whilst Draxxus was the smallest Reven still seemed insignificant in comparison to Alcaler and L'fay.

There were lakes, rivers and mountain ranges, towns, cities and villages, and words in cursive handwriting naming all of them – except they weren't in the language of Amaris. Her innate ability to understand other languages was limited only to the spoken word; despite her understanding, she struggled to read the words of another language when they were laid out in front of her. She could, vaguely, recognise the language as that of the Old Tongue, a language used by the gods and now – rarely – by the Descendants alone.