The Archive. Date undefined.

Sinnamon was back in the Archive, standing beside Weaver, AnnaLee, and the Archivist. The spinning of the Archive ceased and the memory ended right as Reylynn woke up, returning them to near darkness as the lights within the Archive’s craters slowly flickered out.

“Anathi couldn't convince the dragons to help us. Without their awesome control of mana, we could only temporarily lock Isiphelo away. Anathi had devised a back up plan. Find beings who hadn't been exposed to Ikhwezi energy, whom couldn't be manipulated by Isiphelo should he break free.” The Archivist said.

“And that was us…” Sinnamon said softly, a sentiment repeated by Weaver at the same time.

“It's experience!” AnnaLee suddenly shouted. She suddenly blushed as Sinnamon, Weaver, and the Archivist looked at her.

Though she continued after a beat, “Ikhwezi energy is experience! Anathi said the weapons make you stronger the more you fight. And no one on earth can use mana because we're all level zero! The lowest level anyone here is is one.”

Sinnamon was impressed with how quickly she had pieced all that together. Though even she finally understood. “And twelve weapons, twelve Classes. Each class we could pick was based on each weapon.”

Weaver just shook his head. “Okay, I understand all that. But why go through all that trouble and secrecy? Sonnet Entertainment reached millions of us on earth, why not just tell us what was going on?”

The answer seemed rather obvious to Sinnamon. “Would you have joined? They knew they were gonna lose, remember? ‘Hey, come fight an evil monster that already killed all our people. I'm sure you'll do better!’ doesn't really inspire confidence.”

Sinnamon wasn’t exactly sure because of his alien and robotic appearance, but she thought she saw a smile part the Archivist’s lips.

“Point taken,” Weaver said. “But then what happened to Reylynn and Anathi and why weren't they here to tell us any of this? They could have avoided a whole lot of confusion and death.”

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Sinnamon winced as she remembered the many dead and wounded and the burning of a village the previous night.

The Archivist shook his head. “That I do not know and is why you must get to Fel. You must find the Architect, get the answers I cannot give you from her. And you must stop Isiphelo before he breaks free.”

“How do we find Fel?” Weaver asked.

“Fel was one of the first locations protected by a barrier. You can only get there via a way gate. I cannot tell you where the nearest one is, but I can tell you how to find one.” The Archivist raised his staff and began drawing an image of an oval with a circle in the center with the mana flowing off of it. “This was carved into every way gate. It is the Revi symbol for ‘hope for a future.’ They were scattered across Terre’s continents. All will lead to Fel.”

“I've seen that symbol before!” Weaver shouted.

“It's Sonnet’s logo,” AnnaLee said.

“Yes, I mean, no, I've actually seen it! Gavriel and Yentel have armor with that exact logo on it!” Weaver shouted excitedly. “Come on, we need to go!”

The Archivist raised a hand and opened the door to the Archive before turning back into the holographic image of the older man he had been before nearly attacking them.

Sinnamon, Weaver, and AnnaLee bolted from the room.

The Archivist watched them leave. Unbeknownst to them, it had taken a severe toll on Utitshala to temporarily project his physical form from the pocket dimension that was the Grand Archive to this small node.

Had he not done so, he wouldn't have been able to activate the interface with the Grand Archive and show them the memory he carried and had been instructed to share with them and only them. They would not have figured out that they were Reylynn's army, critical information that he had been restrained from sharing with anyone, lest Isiphelo discover and plan a way to defeat it.

Back in the Grand Archive, Utitshala touched the rusting mass of clockwork that was his elbow prosthetic. The very one Nilaa had built for him all those centuries ago. He glanced down at his chest, watching the other part of Nilaa's gift, his own spark of life finally begin to dim as its pulsing slowed. He'd made it far longer than he had expected to. Far longer than he should have.

“May they save us all,” he whispered to himself. Though even he wondered where Anathi was. Reylynn had found him, she’d told the Architect so. What had happened beyond the boundaries of the realm he had stewarded? Why were things in such disarray?

His body began to crumble to dust as the last of Nilaa's Soul energy was finally used up, leaving only the mechanical elbow prosthetic and a small blue crystal on the ground of the node the trio had just run out of.