This is it. After thousands of failed attempts, I finally have a functioning prototype. What were previously considered concrete laws of the Arts are now nothing more than mere assumptions. This is beyond revolutionary. I wonder what its limits are. My greatest creation, fitting in the palm of my hand. I call it the Merger.

Diary entry from Aqueel nur Yiban, dated 378 b.f.

“That’s it. The Great Academy of Al-Talash.” Nurana stared at the ten-foot-tall statue of Aqueel standing in front of them, the metallic cube firmly held in one hand.

Silas’ gaze shifted around the entrance hall. Pebbles and orange flakes of rust covered the ground. The ceiling, once adorned with mosaic patterns, now sported gaping holes, large boulders strewn all over the grey tiles of the hall. Dim corridors branched into countless directions, three of them so massive dozens of people could fit in them.

“How build so high?” Zaya stared up at the ceiling, the light from outside shooting weak rays falling upon the white debris that covered almost every inch of the hall.

“It’s even more impressive that this is still standing, considering the massive claw marks we saw outside,” Silas commented.

“Even in Kuzant, people still tell stories about this place. To think we actually stepped foot in it…,” Nurana trailed off.

“At least there don’t seem to be any creatures in here,” Silas said as he peered into one of the corridors.

“I wonder why,” Nurana pondered. “I think if we take one of the corridors leading straight, we should eventually get to the massive pipe at the back and hopefully find a way out of here. As much as I like finding this place, something about it seems off, more than usual.”

“It’s the Taint.” Both Nurana and Zaya’s heads turned to Silas. “It’s gotten even thicker. I can feel it permeating into my Inner Landscape, like worms wiggling their way in.”

Nurana threw him a glance. Each of them knew what that meant, even if neither wanted to speak it out loud: the thicker the Taint, the closer they had to be to the origin of it.

With no way to discern which corridor led where, they chose the one leading them straight ahead. Metal clattered over the stone as Silas stepped on a cracked lamp. The remaining light from the entrance hall was soon fading, leaving them in a dusky gloom that died somewhere deeper within the corridor.

The path branched off more often than they could count, smaller walkways leading further into the darkness. Rotten wood barely held onto the rusted hinges of long-broken doors, filling the air with a stale taste.

Holding the Magelight in one hand, Silas walked ahead, glad to have Zaya and Nurana at his back. Who knew what lurked in these forgotten ruins. After a while, the corridor ended, giving way to another platform, brown wires hanging from the high ceiling.

They climbed the shaft in silence. Reaching the top, they soon stood in front of a massive door, the engravings carved into the stone barely recognizable. Zaya pushed it open. Deep rumbles echoed into the space ahead of them as the stone moved.

Nurana gasped. A massive library greeted their sight. Rows upon rows of bookshelves occupied every spare space. Many of them were broken, the wood holding them rotten, the books within reduced to dust that covered the ground in a thick sheet. Above and below, half-crumbled stone bridges arched from one section to the next, platforms of metal in between. Silas picked up a book at random, its pages immediately crumbling to dust.

“How old is this place?” he wondered.

“Old enough that most books should have long rotten away.” Nurana pointed at a still-standing shelve, dull glass sealing in the neatly-stacked books within.

A wide bridge separated the two halves of the library, stone arcs spanning to its sides like legs of a spider. Looking up, Silas could barely see the dome, its bronze sheen reflecting the sparse light that pulsed from the orbs illuminating the library.

They slowly made their way across the bridge, their muffled steps seeming too loud for the otherwise deadly silent library. Shadows hid between the bookshelves and stone walls, filling up the corners and narrow walkways. A single pebble dropped onto the bridge in front of them and bounced off the rock once, twice, before plunging further down.

They froze. A soft clutter taunted their ears, so low it might have as well been their imagination. A few tense breaths passed as they waited, their lungs dry from the dust in the air. Neither said a word as they continued to make their way forward.

They were well across the center of the bridge when Nurana stopped, looking into another part of the library to their left. A metal plaque sat at the top of the stone arch leading away from the main bridge. “This section over there seems to be about affinities. I could really use a book for my,” she hesitated, “new affinity.” A few bookshelves were still standing, most of them either metal or stone.

“I don’t think we should dwell here any longer than we have to,” Silas whispered. “We are completely in the open and have no idea if there’s anything that’s still alive in here.”

Nurana crossed her arms. “I doubt that, given how the door to the academy was still locked.”

“Be surprise, but I agree with idiot boy,” Zaya added, earning herself a glare from Silas. “Bad position to fight.”

“I know. But if I find something, maybe I’ll be more than a dead weight for you guys. I need this.”

“Ok, but be fast.” Zaya suppressed a shiver. “Not like this place.”

Nurana went up the stairs, stopping before a thick, eight-foot-long black metal bookshelf. Symbols were etched into the metal at the top. Nurana traced her finger over the plaque, clearing away the dust.

“What do they say?” Silas asked, glancing into the perpetual gloom surrounding them. Despite the neat ordering of the shelves, the section turned and twisted, seeming more like a maze than a library.

“Something about the dark Arts.” Nurana rattled on the lock, the sound echoing into the whole library, ricocheting off the bridges until it died somewhere below.

“Let me.” Zaya pierced the lock with a sharp spike of stone, catching it before the lock could fall down.

Nurana’s eyes skimmed over the various books stacked into the shelf. Her hand reached out to one, her fingers carefully clearing away the dust. A circle occupied half of the black leather cover, wavy lines sprouting from its center and gradually shrinking as they crossed over the edges of the circle. Nurana’s mouth moved silently, her finger tracing the title as she read. Her hand moved to open the cover and stopped. After a split second of indecision, she opened it, frowning in concentration as she read the first page.

“What does it say?”

“Something about the Art of Death, I’m not sure.”

“We can leave now?” Zaya pressured her.

Nurana skimmed over the books once more. In the lower row, a white book stood, its pallid leather looking like nothing she had seen before. Two lines of blue and yellow converged on its back, forming a sickly, almost ephemeral green. A black symbol was written into the circle. Her eyes widened, a look of disbelief slowly forming on her face. Nurana took a step backwards. “Yes.”

“Good, then let’s get out of here.” Silas led the way, spear in his hand. Being in the open like that made his shoulder blades itch.

Throwing one last look at the white book, Nurana hurried to follow Zaya and Silas back onto the main bridge. A heavy-set door signaled the end of the library. Standing ajar, a head-sized hole had been blasted through the metal. Torn chunks of metal lay discarded everywhere.

Silas peered through the door. The ground of the corridor was littered with bits of rusted metal, broken wires, and tubes. Nurana suddenly whirled around, staring over the edge of the bridge, her eyes wide with freight. “Did you guys hear that?” she whispered.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Hear what?” Silas asked her.

Zaya threw a cautious glance at Nurana. “There no be sound.”

“Neither of you just heard that growl?”

“No,” Zaya and Silas said in unison.

Silas knew for a fact there hadn’t been a sound. The eerie silence of the library was almost oppressive. If there had been a growl, each of them would’ve heard it. Silas chose not to dwell on the implications. They needed to get out of this city. If not, the Taint would make them lose the rest of their sanity, and judging by the way Zaya looked at him, she knew it too. “Let’s move on.”

The corridor soon ended, opening into a huge room full of half-finished machinery. Metal arms, torsos, and other devices occupied almost every spare inch. At least two dozen workbenches were placed in regular intervals, wires connected to each one, some of them now littering the ground. Silas held up a hand as he stopped before the entrance.

“Zaya, shoot a rock into the room so we know if—”

Silas felt the wind graze his cheek as a spike of stone missed his face by mere inches. The projectiles send one metal arm flying and another half-finished automaton toppling over, its torso crashing down onto the stone ground.

“You almost hit me,” Silas frowned at her as he turned his head.

“Correct. Almost.”

Silas opened his mouth but closed it soon after as he shook his head. No use in arguing with her. Despite the clamor following Zaya’s rocks, silence once more filled the facility.

Wary not to step on any pieces of metal, Silas took the first step. They had been going for a long time already, and each of them needed to rest, especially if they wanted to reach the center of the academy tomorrow and make their way out of this cursed city. If, of course, they could use the massive pipe going from the academy into the ceiling of the city to reach the surface, and find some way to access it.

Silas sighed. He didn’t want to say it, but their odds of getting out of here weren’t looking good. Even if they reached the surface, they still had to get out of the Crimson Dunes without dying or going insane because of the Taint. He caught himself getting more and more irritated, and knew it had to affect the others too. The only one that didn’t seem to mind it was Gnarly. He was as chirp as ever, creaking at all the odd bits of machinery lying around. Silas patted his friend affectionately.

Gnarly looked up at him, the silver in his eyes resolute. “Creak.”

Silas threw him a weak smile, trying to sound more convinced than he felt. Not that it mattered, with the bond they shared. “I hope so.”

They eventually settled within a smaller alcove to the side, hidden from the main facility. If something came for them, they’d at least be able to spot it first.

“I take first watch, you can sleep,” Zaya announced. “Want to work on something,” she said, taking out the mechanism from the maze of the third level.

“Thanks,” Nurana immediately lay down, using her elbow as a pillow.

“Wake me next,” Silas said to Zaya before heading off to sleep.

“Mmhmm.” Zaya was already inspecting how the bolts of the mechanism shifted as she hit it with stones.

It couldn’t have been more than a few hours until Silas’ eyes snapped open again, the images of another nightmare still illuminating his vision. Familiar pictures were embedded in the darkness around him, only disturbed by the small frame of Zaya sitting near the entrance of the small alcove. A string of curses in her native language reached his ears and put his teeth on edge. He shook his head, dispelling fantasies so close to memories they looked like twins, searching the half-dark for his annoying companion. To his surprise, she seemed to be busy with her hair, her hands fumbling around behind her head.

Silently, Silas stood up and moved towards Zaya. He didn’t mean to scare her – who knew what creature could hear her alarmed screams – but his concerns didn’t catch on.

“What you want, little boy,” Zaya said, not turning around to face him, yet letting go of the strands of her long dark hair.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure? Because it looks like you could need a hand.” Silas pointed at the mess of a braid Zaya was trying to achieve.

The girl quickly brushed out the attempt and shot Silas a dark glare. “You help? Haha.”

Something in her voice tipped Silas off, so he didn’t wait for an invitation but sat down next to Zaya. “Weird that a girl can’t braid her own hair.”

“You have real problem with girl and boy thing.”

The words sounded like Zaya, but Silas was still missing the flying rocks following his provoking words.

“Couldn’t you just put it back up then?” he asked, Zaya still avoiding his gaze.

A small sighed escaped her throat. “It fall apart easy,” she explained. “Braid hold better.”

“So why don’t you braid your own hair?”

“In our tribe, parents braid hair for their children. When they be old enough to have first gem, teach children how to braid their hair.”

“And Nergui or Batu didn’t teach you?”

“Old enough since one moon. Now, be too far away to teach.”

Silas fell silent. Suddenly, he felt the pain he heard in Zaya’s voice inside his own chest. A memory passed by of his father trying to teach him how to dance, and failing miserably. Silas always seemed to have had two left feet, just like his mother. He almost forgot Zaya still had parents to miss. Parents who waited for her to come home.

“I could help you,” he offered, immediately regretting his words. Why had he said that?

She hesitated. “Little boy? Help?” The mockery found its way back into her tone, somehow easing up the tension in his chest.

Silas cocked an eyebrow. “And you tell me I have a problem with boy’s and girl’s things?”

Zaya shrugged. “Can help, if you want.” She put her back to him, her seat shifting so Silas could reach the top of her hair better.

“One or two?” he inquired. Too late to back down now. Best to get this over with.

“Can do one?”

“Sure.”

“Better when fight.”

Silas nodded, even though Zaya couldn’t see it. He straightened himself a little further and grabbed a think strand of hair, dividing it into three smaller ones. Zaya’s hair was, not unlike his, greasy and full of dirt, partly stuck together by blood.

They sat in silence; Silas made sure to proceed carefully, he needed his full focus. Zaya didn’t have trouble holding still. Even if she wanted to move – something told her she’d have a hard time doing so, for some reason.

When the hardest part was done, Silas let his butt sink onto his heels, finishing the tail of the braid with swift movements of his fingers.

That was the moment Zaya found her voice again. “How you can do?”

Silas shrugged. “My mother was wearing her hair in braids sometimes and I wanted to learn how it’s done. So she showed me. I mostly practiced doing her hair.”

He had expected telling her the short story would hurt more, that it would rip open more wounds and probe into that hole he desperately sought to close. It stung a little, like brushing a fresh scar or blood encrusted hair, but it didn’t make him tear up or feel sick. Perhaps not all memories were lost or overwritten by what he had done to his parents.

“Where be parents now?”

Silas froze. For a moment, the breath was stuck in his chest as he fought against the surging memories.

“They were killed over a year ago,” he forced out. “We were just on the way to Bryme for the summer solstice festival when a group of three barbarians attacked. My parents weren’t fighters, like your mother. And I was still weak, back then. If only…” he trailed off.

Silas stared at Zaya’s back, struggling to hold back the rising tide of hate bubbling in his chest. Emerald eyes met his as Zaya turned around. The sheer emotion on her face momentarily overwhelmed Silas, dousing him in cold water as the pain in him subsided. “I am sorry.”

Silas thought back on when he had apologized for dragging her into freeing Nurana from the Guild’s Mages, effectively dooming her return to her parents. Zaya hadn’t even considered blaming him.

He shook his head. “It’s not your fault.”

A moment of silence passed. The emotions welled up in him, the familiar tightness in his chest returning. How Silas was sick of it.

“Do you have a hair tie? I wasn’t done yet.” He gestured at her braid. Zaya turned around again and laid the band into the open palm, lightly touching Silas’ fingers.

Her hand felt cool yet damp, the opposite of Silas’ warm but smooth skin. He took the hair band, wrapping it around the end a couple of times, securing the braid in a way that should make sure it would hold for at least three to four fights.

“Done.”

Zaya’s hand reached up, carefully patting the back of her head. “Not bad, for little boy.”

A light chuckle escaped his throat. “You can call me Silas, you know.”

Zaya’s thin lips curved upwards. “Want see something interesting?”

“Sure.”

Zaya went to one of the workbenches where a couple of cylindrical devices lied.

“What are these?” he asked.

“Things from metal creatures. I take,” she said, gesturing to the open ribcage of an automaton nearby. “Can keep energy inside.”

“Interesting, but I doubt you will be able to make one of these,” Silas glanced at the machines lying around.

“Not want make metal creatures,” Zaya frowned at him, confused. “What happen if you put too much energy into something?”

“The energy will eventually burst free, causing the container to be destroyed.”

“Exactly,” Zaya nodded furiously. “But this,” she held up a stone ball, “has same metal inside to keep energy. If I put much energy into metal ball that be inside the stone ball, what happen?”

“The energy will burst free, causing the stone to…Oh.”

“Yes. Now throw ball,” Zaya grinned.

“You want me to throw this?” he asked, pointing at the ball of stone. “Is there already energy inside?”

“Of course.”

“How far do you want me to throw it?”

Zaya thought for a moment. “Much far.”

Silas cautiously picked it up from the table, weighing it in his hand. It fit perfectly. “You sure about this?”

“Yes. Be completely safe. Now throw ball,” she urged him.

Throwing one last glance at Zaya, Silas threw the ball into a hallway branching off from the main room of the facility. The stone began to glow in mid-flight, cracks beginning to shine through the rock.

Shards of stone were blasted everywhere as the ball violently exploded. Silas instinctively ducked behind the table and covered his head with his arms. The ball was nowhere to be seen. A few pieces of stone were now embedded into the metal workbenches near the explosion.

“I thought you said this was safe!” Silas almost screamed at her.

“Hmm,” Zaya cocked her head. “Need control explosion better.”

Nurana came storming out of the room, her head swiveling around to look for the perceived threat. “By Namash’s mercy, what did you guys do?”

“Zaya worked on these explosive balls, I didn’t do anything,” Silas held up his arms in defense.

“But you be who throw ball,” Zaya poked his chest with her index finger.

“Because you told me to!” he retorted, pushing her finger away.

Letting out a deep sigh, Nurana let her shoulders sag down in defeat. “You two are going to be the death of me. I’ll take the next watch, I wanted to take a look at that book we found, anyway. Maybe I’ll learn how to make use of my new Art.”

Silas nodded, heading off into the alcove. If they ever wanted to get back to the surface, they’d need all the sleep they could get. Because he really didn’t want to think about what would happen if they got stuck here.