I thought ending them would bring me peace. Like a falling comet, I leave nothing but ash and death in my wake. I don’t belong to these lands anymore. But then again, maybe I never did.

- Elusco, Bane of the Sadmora. Dated 59 b.f.

Silas woke to a familiar pain in his nose. Blearily opening his eyes, he let Gnarly know through the bond that he was, indeed, awake. Bright sunlight streamed through the glass near the back of the room.

“Creak!” Gnarly stopped pulling his nose, instead opting to jump up and down on Silas’ chest in an attempt to wake him. “Food!” Silas fished a few dried nuts out of his pocket and gave them to Gnarly, who hesitantly took them.

Nurana sat with her legs crossed on one of the chairs in front of the glass table. A book lay in her lap, its half-rotten, black leather marking it as the one she had taken from Al-Talash’s library. “Morning,” she said without looking up.

“Know how to create an army of undead yet?” Silas joked as he got out of bed.

“Not funny, Silas.”

Zaya, still lying in the bed next to Nurana, stirred. Stretching her arms, she yawned, seemingly locked in stasis for a heartbeat before she exhaled with a blissful smile and her body sank back into the bed. If he didn’t know how she acted, he might have thought she looked peaceful.

Silas tore his eyes away from Zaya. “You know, you surprised me yesterday, Nurana.”

“In what way?”

Silas scratched his neck. “Well, I never thought you were so… bold.”

A flash of annoyance crossed over her features as Nurana looked up from her book. “Well, between fleeing from a squad of Invokers and trying to get out of an ancient, magically corrupted ruin that almost drove us insane, I feel like I didn’t get many chances to interact with other people.”

Silas looked at her for a moment as he tried to come up with a witty answer. “Fair point,” he conceded.

After putting on her clothes behind a small curtain, Zaya went over to Nurana and nudged her with an elbow. “And, how did last night go? Not see you go to bed.” Zaya wriggled her eyebrows, looking down at an unimpressed Nurana, who glanced at the page she was reading currently before closing the book.

“It was fun. Very refreshing to talk to someone whose first reaction to a problem isn’t to break it apart with brute force.”

“Can always talk to me if tired of speaking with little boy,” Zaya replied, laying a hand on Nurana’s shoulder.

Nurana gave her a deadpan stare. “I wasn’t talking about Silas.”

Zaya’s hand slipped away from her shoulder. “Oh.”

A smile played across Nurana’s lips. “Besides, how did your evening go? The two of you seemed to be pretty occupied with each other. So much, it seems, that you didn’t see me heading upstairs.”

Zaya squinted her eyes and glared down at Nurana, whose smile only widened. “Was fun,” she said, mirroring Nurana’s words. “Much refreshing to talk to someone who also use hard head to solve problems.”

A smile formed on Silas’ lips. His eyes met Zaya’s.

Nurana nodded seriously. “I bet.”

They left the tavern soon after, the warm morning sun seeming too bright as they stepped outside. Following Nurana and Zaya, Silas took care to keep his head down as they made their way toward the library. His light skin was sure to attract attention. Even Zaya with her sharp features wouldn’t stand out as much as he did.

Gnarly sat comfortably in one of his pockets, right next to the metallic cube. He seemed to be completely engrossed in studying the object. A feeling of familiarity exuded from Gnarly that Silas couldn’t quite place, tinged with an underlying sense of grief. Gnarly couldn’t explain to him where the feeling came from, however.

The library was a large, square building. Two polished, white stone pillars stood near the entrance. A couple of stairs led up to the wide glass doors standing ajar, a guard on each side. Silas could feel their eyes on his back as he went inside. A clerk sat behind a large desk, their face partly hidden by various stacks of books. Nurana waited patiently before he looked up. The man had perhaps the largest nose Silas had ever seen. A large, fat mole sat under his right eye.

“What can I do for you?” the man asked pleasantly, surprising Silas with his smooth voice.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but it’s our first time here, would you be so kind as to explain the rules?” Nurana flashed the small, orange marble Omei had given them the day before.

The man’s eyes widened for a heartbeat and his mouth opened before he could regain his composure. “C-certainly. You may take and read any books in this library. If you wish to borrow them, I would like to ask you to fill out this,” one hand snatched a sheet of paper while he looked at Nurana, “form for me.”

Silas zoned out while the clerk explained the rest of the rules to them. He was sure Nurana would remember each of them by heart. The entrance hall of the library bore some semblance to that of the academy in Al-Talash, but instead of featuring Aqueel, a lifelike image of the Empress towered over them.

Nurana told the clerk their names, upon which he burned them into a small rectangular pane of glass, tracing their names with his finger. Silas squinted his eyes. What kind of Art was the clerk using? Before Silas could ask him, however, Nurana was already on her way into the library.

She turned around, her eyes shining with excitement. “This is one of the largest libraries on the continent, and we just got free access to it. Ahh, I wish we could stay here forever.”

“Why you always talk so weird, Nurana?” Zaya asked her. “Can just use less words, you know.”

“It’s called being polite, Zaya. You should try it sometime.” Nurana gave her a flat stare.

“Do me favor and never talk to me like that. Just be annoying to me.”

“Which is precisely the reason I do the talking.”

Silas grunted in agreement. “How do we even navigate this place? This library is gigantic,” he said, trying to peer through the seemingly endless rows of shelves before them.

Nurana looked down at Silas. “He just told us.”

“Right.” Silas scratched the back of his head.

Nurana shook her head in disbelief. "History is on the second floor. Next time, I’d advise you listen.”

“Yes, boy, better listen next time,” Zaya hit him with her elbow.

“Did you listen to that desk clerk?”

Zaya tried to suppress a smile and held up her hands in defense. “I no speak.”

A wide staircase brought them to the second floor. People glanced at them as they walked by, some of them openly staring. So far, Silas had yet to see another Ceraviehlian in the city. His light skin stood out like a rose in a cornfield.

“Alright, so according to the friendly clerk, the history and tales of Al-Talash are in the far right corner of this section, as both of you most definitely know.” Nurana glared at them. Silas and Zaya opted to stay silent, knowing when they had lost a battle. “Let’s split up and see if we can find anything related to its inventions and especially,” Nurana lowered her voice to a faint whisper, “that thing.”

“We’ll meet at that table over there,” Nurana pointed at a stone table. Smooth, polished glass made up the surface.

Silas veered off to the left, looking over the titles written on the spines. The aisles were narrow, the shelves reaching well over his head. One title caught his attention, sitting somewhere near the top. He squinted as he tried to read it. Theories of magical energy conversion in Al-Talash. Silas reached up to grab it, his fingers grazing against the shelf where the book sat.

“Can I help you?”

Silas' head swivelled to face the speaker. Why hadn’t he heard him coming? The man was tall, wearing an elegant black robe. The wax in his pointed goatee seemed to glisten in the dim light.

“I would appreciate it.”

“Ah, an interesting choice of book,” the man said as he reached for it. “Gorman has made some well-founded discoveries in his research, although, personally, I believe he is missing a few important details. Ah, I should probably stop bothering you, I apologize.” He flashed Silas a quick smile as he handed him the large tome.

“No, need to apologize, I’ve just begun to study,” Silas glanced at the title, “that.”

The man’s eyes shone with mirth. “I see. Good luck in your studies, then,” the man said as he turned around and walked away.

Silas sighed inwardly as he continued to browse the spines. He needed to improve his talking. Maybe he could ask Nurana for pointers. She certainly seemed to have figured it out.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Zaya and Nurana were already back at the table, a small pile of books between them. Nurana tore her eyes away from the stack of books to look at Zaya, who looked like she wanted to be anywhere else but here.

“Alright. Now begins the fun part!” Nurana said with a beaming smile, grabbing the first book.

“You seem way too enthusiastic about this,” Silas commented.

Nurana’s smile faded somewhat. “Considering our situation, I’ll take what I can get.”

“Let’s see what we find. I want to get back to our room so I can take a look at the thing. I think Gnarly found something.”

A muffled creak came from under Silas’ cloak, and a few sticks stuck out before Gnarly’s head became visible. He had shrunken down again, now a little bit taller than a handspan.

“Agree. Can not read half of these words,” Zaya gestured at the book in front of her. “What mean autonomous?”

“It’s when something can act independently,” Nurana answered, her eyes never leaving the page.

“Ah. Make sense.” Zaya propped her head on one elbow, her long, black hair falling onto the table. Her fingers twirled with a few strands as if trying to braid it. Silas had to hide his smile as he tore his eyes away from her. Her fingers were a bit clumsy, but she seemed to slowly get the hang of it.

“You’re learning fast,” he said, pointing at her hair.

Zaya looked up, her green eyes meeting his. A small smile eased the frown on her face. “Thanks. Not be so difficult as I think.”

Nurana interrupted them before Silas could think of something to say. “Cut the chatter, people. We have more important things to do right now.”

Zaya opened her mouth as if to say something, but ultimately closed it again, giving Silas one more glance before returning her attention to the book in front of her.

“Apparently, Aqueel discovered a way to convert heat into magical energy,” Silas murmured, skimming over the page he was reading. “It doesn’t say how he did it, but the author states the artificers of Al-Talash found a way to store that energy and use it to power most of the city’s infrastructure, including the automata.”

Nurana nodded. “Nothing new, but still interesting. I reckon the dome behind the Sphinx had to have something to do with it.” Nurana nodded. “Anything else?”

“No, just more speculations about the same thing. Did you find something?”

“Nothing conclusive yet.”

“My book be about weapons, I think. Look,” Zaya turned her book around. A small drawing sat on the left page. It was a large, heavy metal tube closed on one end, so wide Silas could have fit his head in it. “This was made to make things go with much speed, from that tube thing. Much like my boomballs, but more controlled, I think. Shame not have any left.”

“I think for each of our safety, it’s better you don’t have any left,” Nurana countered. “But yes, I’ve heard about these things. They worked with both kinetic force and magical energy, I believe. Any mentions of a weird, metallic cube?”

“No, but maybe I can find out how to create boomballs myself?” Zaya turned a page.

Nurana cringed, forcing a pleasant smile on her face. “Would you perhaps consider taking another book, Zaya?”

“No, this be much interesting, thank you.”

Nurana let out a resigned sigh. “I’m going to die horribly.”

As time went on, Silas’ stomach began to grumble. It had been a while since they’d last eaten. The food in Nu-Taquim was way too spicy for his taste, and he had yet to find something that didn’t set his tongue on fire. It was already hot in the desert, why couldn’t the food at least be pleasant?

Nurana breathed in sharply. “Here. Around 40 b.f., Aqueel was seen to isolate himself in his workshop for months on end. Other reports mention an object, simply referred to as “the heart” or “the core” having come into his possession,” she read.

“40 years before the founding of Ceraviehl? Wasn’t that also when Andosius defeated the Yucahuen Empire?”

“Yes. The book also mentions how Andosius sacked the Yucahuen capital and burned down Sach’amama, their sacred tree in what is now referred to as the Marshlands.” Nurana frowned as she stopped reading. “Although I don’t understand how it relates to Aqueel and this ‘core’”.

“Wait, there was an entire city in the Marshlands?” Silas interrupted Nurana’s musings. “Isn’t the entire region nothing but a huge swamp?”

“Yes, but it hasn’t always been like that. After the Yucahuen capital fell over 800 years ago, a huge tsunami flooded the entire region and turned it into what we now call the Marshlands. It’s part of the reason why their empire disappeared almost overnight.”

“Huh. I didn’t know that.”

Nurana’s look told him she wasn’t the least surprised.

Zaya leaned over the book in front of Nurana. “Say what kind of core or what Aqueel do with it?”

“No, and yes.” Nurana pointed to a passage on the left page. “Most researchers seem to speculate it is some kind of magical material or ore, but what most agree on, is that he used it to create, and here it comes, a small metallic cube, generally referred to as ‘The Merger’. This object, supposedly depicted on many statues throughout Al-Talash, was meant to revolutionize the use of the Arts,” she continued. “That has got to be it,” she half-whispered, careful to keep her voice down.

“Creak!” A single fist struck out of Silas' cloak in celebration. “Seems like it,” Silas agreed.

“Say what Merger supposed to do?” Zaya asked.

“Not really. What I’m relatively certain about, however, is that it’s not a weapon.”

Zaya let out a disappointed sigh.

“No, Zaya, that’s a good thing. It means that it’s unlikely to blow up in our face if we study it,” Nurana insisted.

“Already tell you it not be a bomb.”

“I guess you were right,” Nurana relented. “But now, we at least have more than your intuition to go on.”

“Then let’s decide which books we take back with us and leave, I’m starving,” Silas proposed.

It was near sunset when they left the library, and the evening sun bathed the city in a warm, soft glow. The prophet from the day before was preaching in the same square, his speech a bit calmer this time. He seemed to come to an end, and Nurana led them to the front to listen. If they wanted information on the cult, she figured it would be best to start here.

“As parents, we all want our children to live up to their full potential,” the prophet spoke. “We want to see them grow, prosper, and overcome any obstacles in their way. Should they stumble, we will be there to help them up again. In the same way, the Matriarch wishes to help those in need, who have been wronged in these trying times. For she will offer her guidance, her power, and her sheltering embrace beneath the shadow of her wrath. She is the origin of our people, thus to her must we return. When war will drown these lands, the Matriarch will be there to keep you above the waters. Before the Matriarch, all will bow.”

The prophet bowed to the small crowd and stepped down to sit on the crate he had been standing on. A small line of people formed before him. Silas noticed most of the people wore very simple clothing, with none of the colorful patterns he had seen in the upper part of the city.

Silas, Zaya, and Nurana watched from afar, waiting for the line to clear up. The old man took a small flask from beside the crate as he listened to an old woman kneeling before him, whispering into his ear. His wrinkled hand gently patted her back as the woman’s body shook. A few loose strands of grey, brittle hair hung down through the hood covering her face. She walked away, drawing the hood over hear hood as she wiped her eyes.

Eventually, the line cleared, leaving the old man sitting on the wooden crate. He glanced up, giving Silas a warm smile. He had a large, wide nose, his grey eyebrows so long they seemed to curl and disappear somewhere in the wrinkles of his face.

“Come, children, no need to be shy. I can see there is something on your mind. How can this old man help you?”

Nurana stepped forward, stopping a few feet before the prophet. “We waited so the people could seek your guidance. Some of them seemed to carry heavy burdens.”

The prophet sighed, his lungs rattling with the sound. “Yes, my child. With the Empress drafting people for the war, many are afraid of losing their children and their loved ones. Many of them have very little, you see. Unfortunately, it tends to be those that the army comes for first,” he said, a tinge of bitterness seeping into his tone. “Ah, but don’t mind the ramblings of an old man.” He waved his hand and his smile returned. “I can see you are quite the unusual group, I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Did you just arrive in Nu-Taquim?”

“Yes, wise man. We fled from the war in the north to seek refuge in Nu-Taquim. However, it seems war has a way of catching up with us.”

The man nodded, the white Yekshi on his head bobbing slightly. “Unfortunately, that’s the way for many of us. But please, call me Galmor. No need for such formalities. It just makes me feel older than I am,” he said with a light chuckle.

“Gladly, Galmor. I’m Nurana, and my friends here are called Zaya and Silas,” she introduced them.

Silas gave the man a nod, trying to peer into his eyes to look for any deceit. It was hard to imagine him being involved in the supposed murders of the cult that Omei, Cor’s informant, had told them about. But then again, he could just be a front for the cult’s more hideous activities.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my children. Although you don’t look too bad off, if you ever need a place to sleep, ask for the Shelter near the harbor. For a bit of help here and there, I’m sure we’ll find a way to accommodate young folk like you.”

“That is very kind, Galmor. We thank you.”

Galmor smiled. “Don’t thank me, thank the Matriarch. For it is she who has bestowed us with the means to help the poor.”

Saying their goodbyes to the prophet, they left the square. Few people strolled through the streets on their way back to the tavern. Dusk crept over the city, and the numerous glass windows lining the stone houses hesitantly lost their sheen as the tall walls of the city blocked out the dying rays of the sun.

“Well, after what Omei told us about the Cult, I imagined the prophet to be quite different,” Silas began.

“He be too nice. Not trust him,” Zaya interjected.

“I’m not sure about him.” Nurana put a finger on her chin as they walked. “Some of these people seemed glad for his help. There’s definitely more to the cult than an old man preaching in the streets, but I wonder if Omei purposefully left out some details.”

“You think he’s afraid we’ll join the cult and turn on him?” Silas asked her.

“I don’t know,” Nurana said. “All I know is that we don’t know enough not to get caught up in whatever is happening. And that bothers me.”

The way back to the tavern was spent in silence. Silas opened the door to their room and let himself fall into one of the chairs. “I could get used to this.”

“Creak!” Gnarly jumped out of Silas’ cloak and landed on the glass table, his fingers tracing the patterns within.

“Don’t.” Nurana took a look out of the window, watching the people passing along the street below.

Silas thought back on what Nurana had said after they had left the palace. “You think it’s that bad? That the Empress would just kill us if we declined her offer?”

Nurana sighed and turned around to look at Silas. “What would you think would happen, if we were to disappear, from one day to the next?”

Silas kept silent, already knowing the answer.

“Nothing,” Nurana said. “Absolutely nothing would happen. We’re not her people, Silas. We’re just outsiders she doesn’t give a gulp of water about.”

Gnarly stopped tracing the patterns in the table and looked up. “Creak?”

“No, Gnarly, she’s not going to do that, not as long as we’re useful.”

“I not like this,” Zaya intercepted.

“Neither do I. But we need to somehow obtain the information she wants without getting entangled in her schemes and the upcoming war.”

Silas absently petted Gnarly. “How?”

“We need a plan, and I might have an idea,” Nurana proposed.

“Creak!” Gnarly bumped a fist into the air as they all gathered around the table.

They talked well into the night. The Empress had already given them one dose of the treatment. Another would follow once they found what the cult was searching for, and the last one once they made contact with her informant in the tunnels.

For a moment, Silas let himself sink into the soft bed, relishing in the feeling of having an actual pillow. The pleasure was short-lived, however. The softness of the sheets soon felt wrong, entangling, as if the blanket was trying to suffocate him. There was no escape, no alternate path. It was either obtain the information or get hunted down by the Empress like an animal.

Once again, he was forced into a situation he found himself having little to no say in. It had been that way after they had saved Nurana and needed to escape from the Invokers, and it had been the same when they needed to escape from Al-Talash. Silas was fed up with it. He knew complying with the Empress’ request had been the best choice, but a part of him couldn’t help but want to at least try to get out of her grasp. But he wouldn’t risk the lives of his friends for it.

With the Taint in his Landscape, his progress in his Arts would undoubtedly stall. He needed to find a way to compensate for that. His eyes went towards his cloak hanging from the wall near the window, where he knew the metallic cube sat comfortably in one of the cloak’s hidden pockets.

Despite the cloth blocking his view, he could see its mechanism before him, calling to him. If he ever wanted to be free, he would need power. Not the power of a Wielder, but the power of someone like Tom. The power of a true Mage. As his mind drifted off to sleep, the shifting patterns of the cube stayed in his mind, rearranging themselves before him, daring him to look past what the eye could see.