The flickering candlelight cast long, dancing shadows across the weathered tomes and ancient scrolls that lined the walls of Mnemion's private study. The air hung heavy with the scent of aged parchment and arcane incense, a heady mixture that spoke of secrets long buried and knowledge forbidden.
In the dimly lit chambers, Mnemion paced back and forth, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns of his memory-enhancing tattoos. With each step, the magical ink seemed to pulse, responding to the tumultuous emotions roiling beneath his carefully composed exterior. The recent conversation through the portal echoed in his mind, a siren song of power that both thrilled and unnerved him.
"High Remembrancer," he murmured, tasting the words like a fine wine. "Everything I've worked for, finally within reach."
Despite standing on the precipice of his lifelong ambition, Mnemion felt a fleeting pang of doubt. The face of Edward Vortis flashed before his mind's eye – a colleague, a friend, a man he had respected for years. The weight of their shared history pressed down upon him, threatening to unravel his resolve.
But as quickly as it had come, the moment of hesitation passed. Mnemion's eyes hardened, reflecting the cold calculation that had brought him to this point. He had not clawed his way up through the ranks of Mnemosyne's hierarchy, had not spent countless nights poring over forbidden texts and arcane rituals, to falter now.
"Sacrifices must be made," Mnemion whispered, the words a mantra that steeled his nerves and silenced the last whispers of conscience.
With a gesture both practiced and imbued with power, he summoned one of his underlings, a shadowy figure who emerged silently from the corner of the room.
“It's time,” Mnemion commanded, his voice cold and deliberate.
The figure nodded, vanishing into the shadows as quickly as they had appeared. Mnemion exhaled slowly, pushing aside any lingering hesitation. His course was set.
---
Mnemion moved silently through the labyrinthine corridors of Mnemosyne until he reached a secluded alcove in the archives.
Lira sat hunched over an ancient tome, her emerald eyes darting across the yellowed pages with a fervor that spoke of true passion for her craft. Wisps of her auburn hair had escaped their tight bun, framing a face lost in concentration. She was so engrossed in her work that she remained oblivious to Mnemion's approach.
"Lira," Mnemion's voice cut through the silence like a knife, causing the young woman to startle. She turned, surprise flashing in her eyes before she schooled her features into a mask of polite deference.
"Sage Mnemion," she greeted him, her tone a careful balance of respect and caution. Even in her youth, Lira had learned the delicate dance politics.
Mnemion didn't return her smile. Instead, he stepped closer, his expression unreadable. The air around them seemed to thicken, charged with an energy that made the hairs on the back of Lira's neck stand on end.
"I've been thinking about your remarkable memory retrieval work," Mnemion began, his voice deceptively casual. "There's something I'd like to discuss with you."
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Before Lira could formulate a response, Mnemion's eyes began to glow with an otherworldly purple light. Tendrils of memory magic, like wisps of violet fog, began to coalesce around them. Lira's eyes widened in alarm as she realized what was happening, but it was already too late.
The purple fog enveloped her, and Lira felt her consciousness slipping away. Her memories, carefully cultivated and fiercely guarded, began to unravel under Mnemion's insidious touch. She tried to resist, but Mnemion's power was overwhelming.
With the precision of a master surgeon, Mnemion sifted through Lira's memories. He discarded the chaff of everyday experiences, honing in on the vital memories he sought.
As he worked, Mnemion distilled the stolen memories into a glowing crystal, a specialty of Mnemosyne that few outside its hallowed halls knew existed. The process was quick but far from painless. Lira's face contorted in anguish, silent screams trapped behind lips that could not move.
When the fog dissipated, she blinked in confusion, unaware of what had transpired.
“Sage Mnemion?” Lira asked, her voice uncertain. “I... I must have been lost in thought. Is there something you needed?”
“Nothing important,” Mnemion replied smoothly, slipping the memory crystal into his robes. “Continue your work, Lira. You’re doing excellent work.” He turned and walked away, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips.
---
In his private study, Edward Vortis sat hunched over a collection of ancient texts and notes, his thoughts heavy with concern.
Scattered across the polished surface of his desk were ancient texts and hastily scribbled notes, each one a piece of a puzzle that Edward feared he might never fully solve. The documents before him contained fragments of information about a mysterious group – whispers of a plot so vast and terrible that it threatened to reshape the very fabric of reality in the wake of The Shattering.
Edward’s hand instinctively reached for the pendant around his neck, identical to the one he had given Elden earlier. “Seraphine,” he whispered, his voice filled with longing. “I hope I’ve done enough to protect him.”
He gazed down at the sketch on his desk, his fingers tracing the delicate lines that captured a moment from long ago. It was a drawing of Elden as a child, standing between him and Seraphine, her gentle smile radiating warmth even through the faded ink. The memory of that smile, forever etched in his mind, sent a bittersweet ache through his heart, a reminder of what he had lost.
So many secrets had been kept from Elden, all in the name of protection. But now, with shadows closing in on all sides, Edward found himself questioning the choices he had made. Had he done the right thing? Or had his efforts only doomed them all?
A sudden creak of a floorboard outside his study door jolted him from his reverie. His senses sharpened, every muscle in his body tensing as his hand instinctively moved to the pendant around his neck. The usual sounds of Mnemosyne’s bustling halls had vanished, replaced by an unnatural silence that hung in the air like a shroud.
The door to the High Remembrancer's study creaked open, revealing Mnemion standing in the threshold, his expression one of cold determination. Edward, seated at his desk, appeared absorbed in a thick tome, barely acknowledging Mnemion's arrival.
"High Remembrancer," Mnemion began, his tone respectful yet laden with underlying tension. "I hope I'm not interrupting. There's a matter I wish to discuss."
"Not at all, Mnemion," Edward's voice responded, measured and calm, though he didn't look up from the pages he was perusing. "What's on your mind?"
Mnemion stepped further into the room, his eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. Everything about the study was steeped in memories of years past, of their shared work and discoveries. Yet, tonight, the atmosphere felt heavy, oppressive even. Something had changed.