Anazitis moved swiftly, his breath steady but urgent as he left the barrier behind. What had unfolded inside would remain unnoticed—erased by silence, as though the battle and its echoes had never existed. Even the screaming mushrooms had been carefully cleaned away.
The forest stretched endlessly before him. Ancient trees towered high, their dense canopy woven together like an impenetrable shield, swallowing the sunlight before it could touch the ground. Shadows danced across twisted roots and wild undergrowth, shrouding everything in perpetual twilight.
The air was damp and heavy, thick with the scent of moss and earth. Each step stirred the silence—crunching leaves, the faint rustle of branches. Around him, the fox's soul power stirred. Its presence surrendered itself to his body, taking shape as a spectral fox, its aura wrapping protectively around him as he pressed forward toward his goal.
At last, the forest began to thin. Shafts of golden light pierced the gloom, warming his skin for the first time since he had entered. Anazitis quickened his pace. Emerging from the shadows, he found himself on the edge of a radiant world.
The City of Sun lay before him, gleaming like a beacon of hope.
A wide, paved road stretched toward its gates, lined with golden flowers swaying in the breeze. Above, the sky shone a brilliant blue, unmarred by clouds, carrying with it the hum of distant life.
The gates themselves were magnificent—crafted of metal that shimmered like molten gold, their surface etched with celestial patterns, radiant suns, and heroes of old. Vines studded with gemstones wound around the frames, scattering fragments of dawn light.
Stepping through, Anazitis entered a city alive with brilliance. Streets of smooth golden stone sprawled in every direction. Silver-green trees shaded the walkways, while market stalls overflowed with colorful goods. The voices of merchants and the laughter of children filled the air.
"This city will one day be the reason the sun rises. It will bring hope to the people, even in their darkest hour."
The words of the First Sage whispered in his mind.
Buildings rose like jewels, their walls polished to a golden sheen. Towers spiraled toward the sky, adorned with carvings of impossible delicacy. From balconies spilled flowering vines, painting the city in vivid strokes of red and violet.
In the city's heart stood a towering marble statue of the Great Sage, his flowing robes caught in an eternal breeze. The sage's serene gaze radiated quiet strength, as if his spirit still lingered here, guiding the people he had once dreamed of uplifting.
Did this city fulfill that dream? Anazitis wondered. Or is it only a reflection, shining brightly while shadows grow beneath it?
Leaving the plaza behind, he walked toward the grand palace of Memoria—the heart of wisdom and knowledge. The palace shone like ivory, domes and arches reaching gracefully into the heavens.
Inside, its grandeur deepened. Marble floors shimmered like mirrors, golden tapestries traced the history of sages past, and the faint fragrance of rare blossoms drifted through the air. Courteous workers moved among the halls.
One paused, bowing politely. "Welcome, former student. How may I assist you?"
"Do you remember all the students?" Anazitis asked quietly.
Her lips curved into a soft smile. "The brilliant ones are hard to forget. Especially those who spent their days where few dared to tread—in the dangerous wings of the library."
"I need the key to my room," he replied. His tone lightened, though his words carried weight. "And what of the books I collected? I risked my life in forbidden places for them. Yet the smartest ones, they only had to read, and the knowledge was theirs."
The worker handed him a key, etched with ancient symbols. "Your stay at Memoria is always welcomed. And as for the books… history is more precious than danger. You gathered what others feared, and so it endures."
A faint smile touched his lips. Taking the key, Anazitis wandered through the palace halls. Sages moved with an ethereal grace, their expressions filled with serenity, their words carrying gentle wisdom. They felt almost dreamlike, beings caught between earth and light.
At the top of the grand staircase, Anazitis paused. His room awaited—but his steps turned instead toward the library.
The Library of Memoria stretched like a cathedral of knowledge. Polished wooden shelves towered to the vaulted ceiling, stained-glass windows bathing the room in prismatic light. Students moved quietly among the aisles, faces aglow with curiosity. At long tables, quills scratched against parchment as they poured themselves into study.
At the library's center stood a statue of a woman carved from pure white marble. In one hand she held a book, her arm outstretched as though offering it to the world. Her gaze was serene, commanding, a guardian of wisdom itself.
Anazitis' eyes lingered on her. A story stirred in his memory—of a fabled book that contained all knowledge, past, present, and future. The statue felt alive, a symbol of that legend, promising guidance to those willing to seek.
Books floated gently above, drifting back to their shelves as if guided by unseen hands. The sight filled him with nostalgia, stirring old memories of days when knowledge alone had been enough to bring joy.
His heart felt lighter. Magic thrived here—not only in spells and pages, but in the spirit of Memoria itself.
With a smile, Anazitis stepped deeper into the library, ready to embrace whatever wisdom and mysteries awaited him.
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