Chapter 7: The Fracture of the Circle
The ground trembled beneath the monster’s heavy steps.
Each strike against the protective circle made the stones quiver and the fire waver, threatening to go out.
Caleb, on his knees, was drenched in cold sweat, muttering the ancient words through clenched teeth, trying to reinforce the runes etched with his own blood.
But the creature was learning.
The new Glawackus was not mere brute force: it bore the corrupted intelligence of Jonathan, and with it, a predator’s cunning.
With its eyes fixed on Caleb, it began to murmur.
They were words — human, almost familiar — but twisted into sounds that clawed at the mind.
Promises of rest.
Promises of power.
The fire faltered.
Outside, the corruption was already spreading: the wood of the library rotted in seconds, books shriveled and bled black ink, and human figures began to appear beyond the walls — citizens of Eastbury, the few who remained, now transformed into servants of the forest.
Their faces were empty masks, and in their eyes, the same pale blue light flickered.
They walked in silence, surrounding the library, dragging chains, holding improvised tools: rusted knives, shards of iron, splinters of bone.
The siege had closed.
Caleb drove the dagger into the center of the circle, channeling the last of his strength.
The salt blazed brightly, forcing the Glawackus to recoil once more, emitting a growl of pure rage and pain.
But the truth was clear:
The circle would not hold much longer.
And Caleb was no longer facing the monster alone — he was facing an entire city, corrupted by ancient hunger.
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