Since I was already here… might as well make the most of it.
The library's hush was the kind that wrapped around you like a blanket—comfortable if you stayed still, suffocating if you moved too fast.
I stood in the aisle between two long shelves, fingers ghosting over the spines of books, some leather-bound and ancient, others humming faintly with arcane glyphs etched in silver.
Dust danced in columns of light spilling through stained-glass windows high above, tinting the air with shades of violet, rose, and gold.
I needed to learn. Not just what the game had told me, but what this world was really made of.
Because the longer I stayed, the more I realized how little I actually knew.
"Alright, let's get to it," I muttered, grabbing a handful of titles and heading for the nearest table.
My boots echoed softly on the marble floor, catching the occasional glance from other students scattered throughout the library.
A few third-years were seated in the far corners, whispering over open tomes or scribbling notes in crisp notebooks, their uniform trim shimmering slightly with enchantments I didn't understand yet.
I sat down at a carved oak desk, stacked the books like I was about to cram for the apocalypse—and maybe I was—and cracked the first one open.
---
[World Economics & Aetherian Coinage]
There were three primary currencies:
Copper Crowns – basic, used for everyday items. 100 coppers = 1 silver.
Silver Sigils – the mid-tier coin. 50 silvers = 1 gold.
Gold Aether Coins – used for magical items, rare goods, bribes, and anything suspiciously important.
There were higher currencies too, but they were "only used by Kings and the wealthy."
---
[Arcane vs. Mana: A Brief Dissection]
This one made me pause.
So apparently, mana was the raw fuel—think electricity, lifeblood, spiritual juice.
Everyone had it, to varying degrees.
But arcane, on the other hand, was something older. It wasn't about quantity but alignment.
You didn't channel arcane—you attuned to it. It was more emotion than substance, a thread that connected your existence to the laws of reality itself.
"...the Arcane does not flow. It chooses."
Creepy. I underlined that.
---
Then there were the Seven Continents, each one with its own dominant cultures, customs, and legends.
I didn't get through all of them, but I skimmed Tenaria's noble houses, including the Vaelthorn Dominion, the Renwild Empire, and a couple names that had shown up in my recent chaos-fueled week.
There were myths too—The Void at the Root of the World, The Watchers Beneath the Sea, The Singing Flame—stuff that made me wonder whether this place had Lovecraftian lore baked into its bones.
I flipped through book after book, scrawling notes in the blank page Echo summoned for me like a digital notepad.
My eyes burned, my neck stiffened, and the weight of everything I didn't know settled like a boulder in my chest.
{You've been here for 30 minutes.} Echo's voice chirped, maddeningly cheerful.
"What?" I blinked at the page. "That's it?"
{Time distortion, probably. Or maybe you just think very slowly.}
I sighed. Loudly. And slumped back in the chair.
Still, I'd learned a lot. Enough to feel even more painfully aware of how little I still understood.
I stood, stacking the books and sliding them back into their places one by one, ignoring the ache in my limbs.
The shelves creaked quietly with each return, like they were judging me.
As I pushed the final book into place and turned to leave—
I collided into someone.
Hard.
The shelf behind me rattled. The world paused.
And I froze.
For a split second, I thought it might be another one of them — the chaos magnets of my life — maybe Cassia again, or some other crazy students deciding to duel me over a dusty manuscript.
But when I turned, I saw...
Her.
A girl with short, windswept hair the color of chestnut honey, currently half-hidden behind a tower of old spellbooks that looked like they hadn't been touched since the Arcane Wars.
She blinked at me from behind them, one hand outstretched, clearly the guilty party behind the knock.
"Oh! Sorry!" she squeaked, her cheeks already turning a faint pink.
"Didn't see you there…"
Her voice was soft, breathy — familiar.
Too familiar.
She peeked around the stack again, brushing a loose strand of hair behind a pointed ear.
Her skin shimmered faintly beneath the warm gold lamplight, that same iridescent glow I'd seen before.
And those eyes — moss green, speckled with flecks of silver like dew on leaves.
I squinted at her, brain ticking slowly.
She looked... kind of familiar. Maybe from class? No, too polished.
Too composed for a first-year. Maybe an upperclassman?
Before I could piece it together—
{You idiot.}
Echo's voice thudded in my skull like a mental slap.
What?
{That's the nurse.
The fairy nurse who patched you up, blushed when you thanked her, and gave you her number.
The one you said you'd text once you had a phone? Ring any bells, Snowflakes?}
My mouth opened slightly.
Oh.
Oh.
Right.
"…Lira?" I said, blinking.
She perked up instantly. "You remember!"
Not exactly. But I nodded anyway.
"Didn't recognize you without the scrubs."
"I get that a lot," she said, clutching the edge of a nearby bookshelf with both hands.
"Honestly, I didn't expect to see you here. Of all places."
I raised an eyebrow. "It's a library."
"Yeah, but... I mean—" she gestured vaguely to the books, to me, to the general existence of this moment. "I don't know.
You don't seem like the type."
I tilted my head, unimpressed.
"I'm a student. Students read."
"Well—yes! Of course! I just meant—" she laughed nervously, biting her lip.
"I guess I just didn't expect to bump into you again so soon. Especially not here."
I crossed my arms.
"If anything, I should be asking what you're doing here. You're a nurse, right? Not a librarian."
Lira brightened a little, then looked sheepish again.
"Right. I'm actually both, kind of. I graduated from Silver Mist three years ago."
I blinked.
That was unexpected.
She looked young — maybe mid twenties at most — but to already be a graduate and stationed here?
"…You're a graduate?"
"Mm-hmm." She nodded, hugging the stack of books tighter.
"Healing and Support major. And now I work here full-time.
Not just in the infirmary. I'm also an assistant to Archon Elara Vex."
That stopped me cold.
"You're what?"
She smiled, proud but shy.
"Assistant to the Archon. Been shadowing her since my second year, actually."
That threw me.
Elara Vex — the main antagonist in the game's 3rd to 4th arc, a master strategist with a reputation for crushing her opponents beneath her heel like an unyielding juggernaut.
And now apparently… she had an assistant?
That had never come up in the game.
Not once.
Not even in flavor text.
Maybe it wasn't worth mentioning, I thought. Or maybe it was one of those details the devs added to the lorebook five years after launch.
Either way, it was a surprise.
"Didn't know she had one," I muttered.
Lira shrugged, trying to play it off.
"Most people don't. I mostly help with her archives and research documentation."
The way she said it sounded humble.
But that was the equivalent of saying I just alphabetize dragon blueprints for a living.
She was probably being modest on purpose.
I glanced past her to the shelf she'd been browsing — thick tomes bound in living bark and enchanted leather, their spines glowing faintly with titles like Spectral Recovery Methods and The Essence Thread: Repairing the Soul's Tether.
Research indeed.
She followed my gaze, then giggled lightly.
"I like to read here when things aren't too hectic.
The upper floors are quiet. You don't get a lot of students up this far unless they're actually serious."
I looked around.
The background hum of magic was quiet here — more subtle than the rest of the school.
This part of the library smelled like aged ink and whispered incantations.
The lights were dimmer, suspended in floating crystal orbs that hovered gently overhead.
Tall stained-glass windows filtered the afternoon sun into rippling streams of color that danced across the floor.
It was peaceful.
I turned back to her. "You said you didn't hear from me."
Lira's cheeks flushed pink again. She looked down, fiddling with a bookmark peeking out from the tome she held.
"Yeah. I mean, I thought maybe you didn't want to... and that's okay!
But I figured maybe you'd text once you had the chance."
"I still don't have a phone," I said honestly.
Her eyes shot up. "Oh! Really?"
"I wasn't lying."
"No, no — of course not! I just thought maybe you... forgot or something."
I didn't reply.
I hadn't forgotten.
I just didn't think she'd actually expect me to text.
She was a nurse. I was a one time patient.
But here she was. Blushing. Smiling awkwardly. Shifting from foot to foot like she wanted to keep talking but didn't know how.
And me? I had no fucking idea what was going on.
Echo, unfortunately, did.
{She's into you.}
What?
{She's into you, Snowflakes. Like, blushes when you talk, rehearsed this conversation in her head twice, probably practiced smiling in the mirror kind of into you.}
That's insane. She's older. She's got a job. She—
{—likes you anyway. Terrifying, I know. Try not to choke on the attention.}
Lira cleared her throat softly.
"So, um… if you ever do get a phone, my number's still the same."
"I'll keep that in mind," I said.
She nodded too quickly.
"Okay. Well… I'll let you get back to reading. Or—whatever it is you were doing."
I nodded.
And then, just as she turned—
"Oh," she added, glancing back. "You look good in that uniform, by the way. Really suits you."
And with that, she vanished between two rows of spellbooks like a vanishing act.
I stood there for a second, blinking.
{You gonna stand there and blush or are we moving on?}
"I'm not blushing."
{You're emotionally constipated. It's different.}
I let out a slow breath and turned back to the shelf.
Just as Lira vanished down one of the side aisles, an idea hit me square in the brain like a thrown mana brick.
She's a nurse.
Of course she is. She'd know where Sylvara was.
And if I wanted to get anywhere near cleansing that cursed mark before it mutated her into a walking conduit for apocalypse…
I needed to find out where Sylvara was currently being treated.
{Finally.} Echo groaned.
{Ten IQ points just woke up from a coma. Took you long enough.}
'I was distracted.'
{By her smile or her hips?}
'By the plot, Echo.'
I started walking fast — not quite running, but close.
The quiet rustle of books and pages faded behind me as I moved deeper into the third-year archives, weaving through the shelves like a bloodhound chasing a clue.
But by the time I reached the side corridor, Lira was already gone.
Of course.
The universe never let me have anything easy.
I stepped into the adjacent hallway, a little narrower than the main one.
Stone floor, soft velvet-red carpet running down the middle.
No crowds here — just muted footsteps and the occasional whir of a mana lantern adjusting its glow.
And then I heard it.
A voice. Male. Polished. Smug in that practiced, noble kind of way.
"…Come now, Lira. You've been dodging me for weeks."
Her voice followed, firmer this time — almost apologetic, but not quite.
"I haven't been dodging. I've been working. And like I said before, I'm not interested."
I turned the corner and immediately regretted it.
Cliché.
Of course it was a cliché.
There she was. Trapped between a bookshelf and a walking stereotype.
He had that face. You know the one. Clean-cut.
Golden hair like it was combed by palace servants.
Robes tailored to whisper noble house privilege with every movement.
Late twenties, probably. And clearly used to getting what he wanted.
He leaned on the edge of the shelf with casual entitlement, lips curled in a smirk that somehow felt both lazy and condescending.
"Oh, come now. Don't be cold. It's unbecoming."
I grimaced and stepped back before either of them could see me.
Nope. Not my problem. I wasn't getting pulled into that scene.
I turned to quietly sneak away and retrace my steps.
And that's when I bumped into a shelf.
A loud, echoing thud followed by the thmph-thmph-thmph of falling tomes.
"…Damn it—" I hissed, scrambling to catch one of the books before it hit the floor.
Too late. They scattered like oversized dominoes.
I froze.
Silence.
Then a pair of heads turned toward me at the exact same time.
Lira blinked in recognition. Her companion just raised an eyebrow.
A long moment passed.
I sighed and crouched down, fingers moving automatically to gather the scattered books.
Of course this had to happen. Of course.
My life was being directed by a sadistic playwright with a fetish for public embarrassment.
The man still hadn't moved. His gaze lingered a second too long.
Then—
"Student Eden, are you hurt?"
My head snapped up.
Lira was suddenly beside me, voice warm but overly formal—loud enough to carry across the aisle.
I blinked. Hurt? What was she—
Ah.
Realizing it, I played along.
I gave a sheepish shrug and rose to my feet, holding one of the tomes under my arm like a makeshift excuse.
"Just startled. My fault. Didn't see the shelf."
Lira nodded, stepping subtly between me and her would-be suitor.
"You should be careful," she added with a bit more volume than necessary.
"These archives can be a bit… overwhelming. Especially for a first-year."
Her smile was polite. Professional.
But I could tell—it was an out. An escape route disguised as concern.
The noble's eyes flicked between us. Then settled on me.
He studied my face with a slow, calculating interest. The kind that made me want to check if I'd grown horns.
Then, without a word, he turned to Lira and offered a charming smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"We'll talk later."
She didn't respond. Just nodded faintly.
He took one last, lingering glance at me—sharp, assessing—before turning on his heel and walking off, the hem of his robe whispering against the floor like it had somewhere better to be.
I watched him go. Then let out a quiet breath.
'So… that happened.'
Lira glanced at me once he was gone, the tension slipping from her shoulders.
"Sorry," she said, softer now.
"He's been… persistent lately."
"Persistent," I echoed dryly. "You don't say."
A small laugh escaped her—half awkward, half relieved.
For a second, neither of us said anything.
Then I nodded toward the shelves. "Thanks. For, uh… the save."
Lira smiled. And this time, it wasn't the formal kind. It was quiet, shy. "Anytime, Student Eden."
She turned to leave again.
I hesitated. Just a second.
But I couldn't let her vanish this time. Not yet.
"Wait—Lira."
She paused mid-step, glancing over her shoulder.
"Yes?"
"I need to ask… Sylvara Duskbane. Do you know where she's being treated?"
Something passed across her face—a flicker of recognition, maybe concern—but it wasn't alarm.
Then she answered simply,
"Zenith Ward."
I blinked. "Zenith what?"
She looked at me—then tilted her head slightly, like she hadn't expected me not to know.
"Ah… sorry," she said softly, stepping a little closer.
"It's one of the secure medical divisions. Third sublevel beneath the central tower."
She pointed lightly behind her, toward the grand hallway outside the library.
"Go back down this corridor, take the spiral staircase past the Moonlit Fountain—then follow the crystal floor path until you reach the white archway.
The Zenith Ward entrance should be to your right. It's guarded, but… you'll see it."
I was still blinking through the directions when she smiled again.
A quiet one. Not her usual polite smile—this one curled just at the corners of her lips, gentle and almost shy.
Like she found something amusing.
Or maybe…
…She thought I looked stupid.
Echo snorted in the back of my mind. {She absolutely thinks you look cute when confused.}
'Shut up.'
Lira tucked a loose curl behind her ear, her cheeks just slightly pink.
"Her condition's okay, by the way," she added, voice softer now. "Stable."
Then she nodded once—almost like it was her way of saying good luck—and turned, walking off at a measured pace.
I watched her go.
Her footsteps faded into the corridor's soft hush, leaving just the rustle of distant pages and the low hum of rune-lamps swaying slightly above.
Zenith Ward.
I repeated the name silently, trying to burn the directions into my head.
Third sublevel. Moonlit Fountain. Crystal floor path.
Secure. Guarded.
Of course it was.
She's a Duskbane. An Anchor. A target.
And now—possibly worse than all that—she was marked.
But even knowing that… what exactly was I supposed to do?
March into her room and say, "Hi, you don't know me, but you've been cursed by an ancient horror beyond mortal comprehension. Mind if I check your soul?"
Right.
That'd go over beautifully.
I'd get dragged out by security and added to a watchlist before I even finished the sentence.
Hell, I'd sound more like a suspect than a savior.
And in the wrong ears, the very mention of the Phantom Sigil could spark the exact panic the academy was probably trying to avoid.
No. That approach would only blow things up faster.
{So what now?} Echo asked, quieter now.
'I need to see her,' I thought, beginning to move—one step, then another, retracing the path Lira had pointed out.
'No confrontation. No grand reveal. Just… observe. Confirm.'
{And after that?}
I didn't answer.
Mostly because I didn't know.
I just knew that doing nothing wasn't an option.
The weight of that truth settled over me like a cloak of cold mist as I stepped out of the Astrolithus Archives, the heavy door sighing shut behind me.
Somewhere below this sprawling maze of stone and sigils, Sylvara Elyss Duskbane was resting—healing, maybe. Drifting.
Unaware that something ancient and vile was already gnawing at her soul from the inside out.
I tightened my jaw.
First, I'd see for myself.
Then I'd figure out what came next.
And with that, I started down the hallway toward the Moonlit Fountain—toward the Zenith Ward.
Toward whatever came after.