The Archivist of Forgotten Realms

Chapter 1

Mikasa stood frozen, her breath catching in her throat as she gazed out over the desolate plain of Azura. The world around her was barren and broken—cracked earth stretching endlessly in every direction, dotted with the crumbling ruins of once-great structures that stood as remnants of a bygone era. The sky above was a deep, bruised purple, casting the entire realm in a surreal, eerie twilight that seemed to sap the very life from the air. There were no stars, no sun—just the hollow, oppressive silence of a world that had been forgotten by time, its former vibrance and vitality reduced to a haunting, desolate emptiness.

The weight of this realization pressed down on Mikasa's chest, making it difficult to breathe. This was no longer the cozy, familiar confines of the bookstore she had wandered into, nor the world she had known her entire life. This was something else entirely—Azura, a realm on the brink of collapse, its people and magic all but gone, leaving behind only the crumbling remnants of a once-thriving civilization. Mikasa felt a deep sense of sorrow and foreboding, acutely aware that she had been entrusted with the responsibility of preserving the histories and stories of this lost world.

Her heart pounded as she took a hesitant step forward, her shoes sinking slightly into the dry, brittle earth. The faint wind that swept across the plain carried with it the echoes of a forgotten past—whispers of a time when this world had been filled with life, magic, and wonder. Mikasa felt a chill run down her spine as she surveyed the desolate landscape, the weight of her responsibility as the Archivist pressing heavily upon her shoulders. She knew she had been entrusted with the task of preserving the histories and stories of this lost world, and the gravity of that duty filled her with a sense of both awe and trepidation.

How am I supposed to save this? The question raced through her mind, the enormity of the task weighing heavily on her. She was just Mikasa Tanaka—a university student who had barely figured out her own life, let alone how to restore a forgotten realm to its former glory.

But the Grand Archive had chosen her, and the book had been clear: Azura, a lost and forgotten realm, needed saving. Somewhere in this desolate and ruined world lay the Orb of Light, an ancient artifact that once held the power to defeat the all-consuming darkness that had swallowed Azura whole. However, to activate the orb and restore Azura, She first had to find the mysterious key that would unlock its dormant power.

Mikasa swallowed hard, glancing around the barren landscape. The book’s words echoed in her mind:

Your task is clear, Archivist. You must find the Key of Light to unlock the Orb of Light and bring it back before it’s too late for Azura.

“Right,” she muttered to herself, her voice sounding small and fragile in the vast emptiness. “Just find the key and find the orb. Simple enough, right?”

But where could she even begin? There were no signs, no directions—just the endless, cracked earth and the broken remnants of a world that had long since fallen into ruin.

Her eyes swept over the horizon, searching for any clue, any glimmer of life. Far in the distance, she could just make out the jagged outlines of what might have once been a city, now nothing more than a cluster of crumbling towers and fractured walls. It was the only landmark in this desolate wasteland, and it seemed as good a place to start as any.

Taking a deep breath, Mikasa began to walk.

The journey to the ruins was long and eerily quiet. Every step Mikasa took echoed in the stillness, the crunch of brittle earth underfoot the only sound in this forgotten world. The wind, though faint, carried with it the unmistakable scent of decay, and the deeper she ventured into Azura, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. It was as though the very air was thick with the remnants of the realm’s forgotten history—a history that she was now tasked with uncovering.

When she finally reached the outskirts of the ruined city, Mikasa stopped, her breath catching in her throat once more.

The ruins were massive. Towering structures, once magnificent and regal, now lay broken and crumbling, their foundations cracked and unstable. Broken pillars and shattered statues lined the streets, and the ground was littered with debris—fallen bricks, twisted metal, and the skeletal remains of long-dead trees. The city must have been a wonder in its prime, a place where magic and life had flourished. But now, it was a graveyard—a tomb for the memories of a world that had been erased.

Mikasa stepped cautiously through the ruins, her eyes scanning the area for any sign of the key she needed. The book had been frustratingly vague, offering no real guidance other than to find the key. But what did the key look like? Where was it hidden, concealed among the crumbling debris and decaying remnants of a once-grand civilization? And how was she supposed to unlock the Orb of Light—the ancient artifact that held the power to restore this lost world—once she finally located the elusive Key of Light?

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

As she ventured deeper into the city, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and now and then, she would hear the faintest sound—like the distant rustle of fabric or the scrape of stone against stone. But whenever she turned to look, there was nothing there. Just the ruins and the silence.

“Stay calm,” she muttered under her breath, trying to steady her nerves. “There’s nothing here. It’s just your imagination.”

But the sense of unease wouldn’t leave her.

She wandered through the empty streets, her footsteps echoing off the crumbling walls. The deeper she ventured, the more her unease grew. There was something sinister about this place—a palpable sense of dread that seemed to seep into the very air she breathed. It was as though the city itself was haunted by the memories of what it had once been, the very stones whispering of the tragedy that had befallen it.

Eventually, Mikasa found herself standing before a massive, crumbling structure that might have once been a grand palace. Its towering spires were broken and jagged, and its once-ornate doors hung precariously from their hinges, ready to collapse at any moment. The structure loomed before her, a silent testament to the passage of time and the ravages of abandonment. Mikasa couldn't help but wonder what secrets this decaying edifice might hold, what stories it could tell if only the walls could speak.

The palace.

If there was any place that held the key to restoring this realm, it would be here.

Mikasa took a deep breath and stepped through the shattered doors, the old wood creaking ominously as she pushed them open. Inside, the palace was just as broken as the rest of the city—pillars lay cracked and fallen, and the ceiling above had long since caved in, leaving only jagged edges where the roof had once been.

Mikasa's eyes swept over the ruined palace, taking in the crumbling grandeur that once must have filled this space. Ornate carvings and faded murals adorned the walls, hinting at the opulence and majesty that had once reigned here. But now, the palace was little more than a hollow shell, a forgotten relic of a bygone era.

As Mikasa ventured deeper into the structure, she couldn't help but wonder about the history that had unfolded within these walls. Who had lived here? What stories had these rooms witnessed over the centuries? The air was thick with the weight of the past, and Mikasa felt a shiver run down her spine.

The palace was divided into several distinct wings, each one bearing the marks of a different architectural style. Mikasa recognized the influence of various cultures and civilizations, suggesting that Azura had once been a diverse and cosmopolitan realm. The eastern wing, for instance, featured delicate arches and intricate tile work, reminiscent of the grand palaces of the past. In contrast, the western wing boasted sturdy columns and heavy stone construction, hinting at the martial prowess of Azura's former inhabitants.

As Mikasa explored the different sections of the palace, she began to piece together a vague understanding of Azura's history. This realm had once been a thriving center of culture and power, a place where various factions and kingdoms had coexisted and even thrived. The palace itself seemed to be a microcosm of this diversity, with each wing representing the unique contributions of Azura's various peoples.

But what had happened to bring this world to ruin? Mikasa couldn't help but wonder as she ran her fingers along the crumbling walls, feeling the weight of the past pressing down on her. The book had spoken of a great darkness that had consumed Azura, but it had offered few details. Mikasa knew she would have to delve deeper, to uncover the true story of this lost realm if she had any hope of restoring it.

What happened here? She wondered, her brow furrowed with concern. And how am I supposed to save it?

But in the center of the vast, ruined hall, something caught her eye.

A pedestal, untouched by the decay that had ravaged the rest of the palace. It stood tall and proud, and resting atop it was a small, intricately carved box, glowing faintly with a soft, golden light.

Mikasa’s heart raced as she approached the pedestal. This had to be it. The Key of Light. The box that would unlock the Orb of Light and restore the magic to Azura.

Her fingers trembled as she reached out to touch the box. The moment her skin made contact with the smooth, cool surface, a surge of warmth shot through her hand, and the soft golden light around the box flared brighter.

She held her breath as she slowly opened the box, the ancient hinges creaking softly in the silence.

Inside, resting on a bed of dark velvet, was a small, silver key. It was delicate, almost fragile, but Mikasa could feel the power radiating from it. This was the Key of Light. The one that would unlock the magic of the Orb of Light and save Azura.

Her fingers closed around the key, and as she lifted it from the box, the golden light around her pulsed once, twice, and then faded.

For a moment, everything was still.

Then, from behind her, came the sound of footsteps.

Mikasa froze, her heart skipping a beat. Slowly, she turned, her grip tightening on the key.

A figure stood at the entrance to the ruined hall, cloaked in shadow. Mikasa strained to make out any details, but the figure was obscured, its features hidden in the deep shadows that clung to the ruined structure. All she could discern was the outline of a tall, imposing form, its gaze fixed upon her from the darkness beyond. A chill ran down her spine as she realized she was being observed, the weight of the stranger's eyes bearing down on her.

“Who… who are you?” Mikasa’s voice wavered as she took a step back, clutching the key to her chest.

The figure remained silent, its imposing presence looming over Mikasa. Slowly, it took a deliberate step forward, the sound of its footsteps reverberating ominously through the vast, cavernous hall, amplifying the sense of dread that gripped Mikasa's heart. The air grew thick with tension as the shadowy figure advanced, its features obscured by the deep shadows that clung to the ruined structure.

Fear surged through Mikasa’s chest, and she instinctively backed away, her mind racing. She had the key. She had what she needed. But something was wrong. She could feel it. This figure—whoever, or whatever, it was—was not here to help her.

Without thinking, Mikasa turned and ran.

Her footsteps pounded against the cracked stone floor as she sprinted through the ruined palace, her heart racing in her chest. She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew she had to get away. The Key of Light was her only chance to save Azura, and she couldn’t let it fall into the hands of whatever was following her.

As she ran, the world around her began to blur, the edges of her vision growing hazy as the wind whipped past her face. The sound of footsteps echoed behind her, growing louder with each passing moment.

Mikasa’s breath came in ragged gasps as she pushed herself faster, her legs burning with the effort. The city blurred around her, the ruins melting into a surreal, dreamlike landscape.

Please, let me make it out.

Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet gave way, and with a gasp, Mikasa stumbled forward, tumbling into a dark, yawning chasm that seemed to open out of nowhere.

The last thing she saw was the faint glimmer of the key in her hand as the darkness swallowed her whole.