In the heart of a cavern where shadows whisper and stone remembers, there dwells a figure older than memory, older than nations, perhaps even older than the Eye itself. She is called many names—the Keeper, the Witness, the Blind One—but among those who truly know her, she is remembered as the Librarian of Faces.
The Cave of Faces
Deep beneath the earth lies a cavern carved not by human hands, but by something far older. Within it, stone walls are lined with countless faces—each etched with uncanny precision, each marked with sorrow or defiance. These are not statues, nor are they works of art. They are the memories of the Eye-bearers, every soul who has ever carried its mark across the centuries.
No face is missing. None can be erased. For when the Eye chooses, the Cave remembers.
The Librarian’s Eternal Duty
The Librarian of Faces is blind, her mortal eyes long closed. Yet she sees more clearly than any living soul. It is said that she carries every vision of every Eye-bearer, each triumph, each failure, each death. She records without judgment, speaks without embellishment, and remembers without mercy.
Her task is endless: to bear witness to the line of those chosen by the Eye and to ensure that their stories are never forgotten, even if the world itself burns. She does not guide, not in the way Maera might, nor does she tempt, like the Faceless Man. She simply watches… and remembers.
Origins Shrouded in Mystery
How did the Librarian come to be? Some claim she was once the first Seer, a woman who looked into the Eye and was struck blind by its truth. Others whisper that she was shaped by the Veil itself, a living fragment of its memory, doomed to catalog until the end of time.
There are darker theories still—that the Cave is no archive, but a prison, and that the Librarian is as much a captive as a keeper. That she was bound there to guard what must not escape, her silence enforced by forces too ancient to name.
Why the Faces Matter
For Elias Mercer, standing before the Cave is no small terror. To see the faces of those who came before him—all the men and women who bore the Eye, all their fates carved in cold stone—is to feel the weight of inevitability. Some faces are noble, others twisted, still others frozen in anguish. Elias knows that his face will one day join them.
But perhaps the cruelest truth is this: the Librarian will remember him long after his bones are dust, and the Hollowing will never forget.
The Librarian’s Place in the Story
The Librarian of Faces embodies one of the most damning truths of The Last Patriot: that the burden Elias carries is not his alone. He walks a path etched into history, one that has claimed countless lives before his. The Eye is not new, and his struggle is not unique.
The only question is whether he will break the cycle—or become just another face in the stone.