The Prophet's sudden proclamation about the Primordial Canine lingered in Cyrus' mind, an enigma that refused to be ignored. Since their first encounter, the Prophet had maintained a stoic silence on the subject, yet now his words hinted at a seismic shift in their world. The queen's worried expression only served to deepen the mystery.

In the days that followed, a palpable tension settled over the villa. Children, once free to roam and play, found themselves confined indoors. A new edict, as harsh as it was absolute, forbade anyone from leaving the villa without the queen's express permission. The penalty for disobedience was death – a sentence that would be carried out regardless of the transgressor's status or importance.

Cyrus couldn't shake the feeling that something momentous was on the horizon. The Prophet had spoken of a storm, and now the very air seemed charged with anticipation. Driven by an insatiable curiosity, he found himself drawn to the library, hoping to uncover some clue that might shed light on the unfolding events.

As he meandered through the towering shelves, a slight anomaly caught his eye – a book protruding ever so slightly from its fellows. Without thinking, Cyrus reached out and pulled it free. The resulting cacophony of creaking and grinding, like ancient chains being drawn back, nearly caused him to drop the tome in surprise.

He stumbled backward as the shelves before him began to tremble. With a final groan of protest, they parted to reveal a hidden door. Cyrus' heart raced as he peered into the dimly lit chamber beyond. "What is that?" he murmured, his eyes drawn inexorably to the center of the room.

There, bathed in an ethereal glow, stood an altar. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, carved from some luminescent material unknown to Cyrus. Intricate diagonal and hexagonal shapes danced across its surface, creating patterns that seemed to shift and change as he watched. Atop the altar sat a circular disk, its purpose as mysterious as its origin.

Drawn by an impulse he couldn't explain, Cyrus approached the altar. He reached out, his palm tracing the surface and leaving trails in the thin layer of dust that covered it. The contact sent a shiver through his body, as if some ancient power lingered within the stone.

"Cyrus! What-what are you doing in there?" Neno's panicked voice shattered the moment. The librarian burst into the room, his eyes wild with fear. "No... no, the queen is going to rip my head off!"

Before Cyrus could protest, Neno was hustling him out of the secret chamber. The hidden door slammed shut behind them with a resounding thud, once more concealing its mysteries from prying eyes.

"What is that place?" Cyrus demanded as Neno busied himself rearranging the fallen books, his movements jerky with nervous energy.

"I, um, have no idea," Neno stammered, refusing to meet Cyrus' gaze. "Some folks around here say it's related to the Primordial Canine, but, uh, other than that, it doesn't seem to have any real use."

Cyrus studied the librarian, noting the way his hands shook as he shelved the books. "What do you do with your days, Neno?" he asked, trying to shift the conversation to calmer waters.

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Neno's shoulders relaxed slightly at the change of subject. "Um... nothing special. I read and heal people's wounds. Uh... why? You seem distracted."

With a heavy sigh, Cyrus sank into a nearby chair. He cradled his head in his hands, feeling the weight of recent events pressing down upon him. His friend was gone, Leora was absent, and the other Bites now regarded him with a mixture of pity and disdain. The conversation with his father days ago haunted him – the old man had aged so much, worn down by the relentless toil of the mines. And now, the queen's promised money had evaporated like morning mist, taking with it any hope of saving his father from that hellish existence.

"I just wish I had the courage to leave this place and face the bureau," Cyrus admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Neno settled into a chair nearby, though Cyrus couldn't help but notice the considerable distance the librarian maintained between them. "You would probably get captured by the bureau," Neno offered, his tone matter-of-fact despite the grim prediction.

Cyrus didn't take offense at Neno's standoffish attitude – he had grown accustomed to it over time. Instead, curiosity got the better of him. "How did you end up a doctor, Neno? I'm not trying to be mean, but your personality doesn't seem best suited for it."

Neno's feet turned towards the door, as if plotting an escape route. His fingers twisted together nervously as he spoke, eyes fixed on anything but Cyrus. "I really never wanted to be a doctor," he confessed. "I... I wanted to be like Leora. She's perfect in everything. Um... She's smart, powerful, and caring, although she appears cold on the outside. That confidence, I longed for it as I grew up."

Neno's voice grew quieter, trembling slightly as he continued. "When my canine appeared for the first time, I couldn't control it. I-I-I killed someone." The admission seemed to physically pain him. "I sealed my powers and vowed never to use them again. Um... I can't be like her, so I had to choose another profession. I-I am pretty good at that, don't you think?"

As Neno wiped tears from his eyes, Cyrus felt a deep ache in his chest. He moved to the librarian's side, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You are damn good at that, Neno," he said with genuine warmth.

Suddenly, an idea struck Cyrus, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "It was years ago, Neno. I think you should give it another try. Why don't you come with us on our next trip?"

Neno shook his head emphatically, but Cyrus pressed on. "Come on, buddy. It's going to be fun!" He gave Neno a hearty slap on the back, causing the smaller man to cough loudly.

"Okay," Neno finally relented, his voice barely audible.

"Great!" Cyrus beamed, already feeling more positive about the future. "Let's find Leora now. Where has she been all these days?"

As they left the library, Neno hesitated before answering. "Um... She's the only one allowed to leave the villa. Uh... She's meeting this guy. What's his name... Marko Sanchez, I think."

Cyrus nearly tripped over his own feet at the revelation. "Wait! What?" His mind reeled. Wasn't that the bastard who had sold them out to the bureau on the island? What could Leora possibly be doing with him?

Seeing the shock on Cyrus' face, Neno rushed to explain. "Don't be jealous. Uh... after you came back with your friends, um... you fell extremely sick. Your wounds weren't healing, and we almost thought you... you would have died." He paused, swallowing hard before continuing. "She came every single evening, cursing at you not to die."

A strange smile played across Cyrus' face as he processed this information, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Warmth bloomed in his chest, filling him like water in an empty vessel. He had wondered why he had felt so weak upon waking – the knowledge that Leora had been there, fighting for him in her own unique way, touched him deeply.

As they continued their walk, Cyrus found his thoughts drifting back to Leora's beautiful face. For the first time in days, he felt truly hopeful. Whatever storms lay ahead, whatever mysteries the Primordial Canine might hold, he knew he wasn't facing them alone. With friends like Neno and Leora by his side, perhaps he stood a chance after all.