Once inside his room, Vas quickly prepared to enter the Void, eager to consult with The Archivist. As his surroundings melted away, he found himself standing once again in the ancient, boundless library that served as the Archivist's domain. This time, The Archivist looked younger, her form shifting as it often did, but her presence was unmistakable. She stood high on a ladder, sorting through shelves of countless volumes, each book likely holding a forgotten piece of history.

"So, how are things going?" The Archivist asked, her voice echoing slightly in the vast expanse of the library.

"Good," Vas replied. "I found a couple of spirits, forged them into something useful. Oh, and I ran into another Forgotten—Thoth."

The Archivist paused, glancing down at him with a raised eyebrow. "Thoth? I didn't expect you to find him so fast. So, what's the plan?"

Vas shrugged. "There is no plan. He said he wanted to help me, especially since he doesn't know how he got out of here and doesn't like being someone's pawn."

"Interesting." The Archivist resumed her sorting, but Vas could sense she was paying close attention. "And after he helps you, do you think he'll come back here willingly?"

"No idea. I told him I'd need to speak with you first. He asked to see me tomorrow, so I came to get your thoughts."

The Archivist seemed to consider this for a moment before hopping off the ladder and walking over to Vas. She tossed a piece of parchment his way. "Give him this," she said.

Vas caught the paper and unfolded it to reveal a carefully drawn sigil. At the center was a large, all-seeing eye, surrounded by jagged, broken lines. The design was intricate, with glyphs and runes surrounding the broken circle that encapsulated the eye.

"That sigil will allow him to communicate with me directly," the Archivist explained. "I won't take him by force, but I do want to speak with him. Tell him to draw it using something that can be easily broken or destroyed. Usually, there's a cost to invoking it, but I'll void that this time. After using it, though, he'll forget how to do it."

Vas studied the sigil carefully. "Will I forget about it too?"

"No," the Archivist replied. "But you won't need it. You've already earned your place here."

Vas nodded, folding the parchment and tucking it safely into his jacket. Just as he was about to speak, Morrigan's voice suddenly cut through his thoughts, and she materialized beside him, fully visible in her human form.

"Now that we're here," she began with her usual sharpness, "let's start working on how to create your own sigils."

Vas blinked in surprise. "Come again?"

"I've mentioned it before," Morrigan said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Sigils and Mudras are fundamental to anyone involved in the occult. Most people bonded with gods ignore this aspect, thinking their bond is enough, but not you. I'm going to make sure you're as complete as possible in this regard."

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The Archivist, still standing nearby, gave a knowing smile but didn't intervene. Vas realized that between the trials of forging spirits and navigating his connection to the Void, his journey was only just beginning. Morrigan, true to her word, was intent on pushing him further.

He sighed, mentally preparing himself for what was bound to be a long night. The faint glow of the ancient library's lamps cast soft shadows across the room as Morrigan waved her hand, summoning a series of symbols in midair. The sigils pulsed faintly, each one intricate and precise, as if alive with latent power.

"These," she said, gesturing to the swirling symbols, "are the foundation. Each one is tied to an intent, a purpose. You'll need to learn how to craft these for your own use, to bind, to ward, to enhance."

Vas focused on the symbols, his mind already spinning with questions. He had barely scratched the surface of what he could do, and now he was being shown yet another path of power. The exhaustion from his earlier trial lingered, but there was a strange sense of excitement creeping in.

"Let's begin," Morrigan said, her voice unwavering as she guided him through the ancient craft. For hours, they studied together, Vas learning the intricate balance of lines and energy required to form his own sigils. Every symbol had its own meaning, its own weight, and he could feel the power in each stroke as they took form.

Time blurred in the Void. What felt like hours in the library might have been minutes or days outside, but Vas didn't care. He was determined to master it. As they moved deeper into the study, Vas began to understand just how vast his potential was.

And with that, another piece of the puzzle fell into place. He was becoming more than just a Spirit Forger. He was becoming someone who could command the forces shaping reality.

By the time they were done, Vas was exhausted but satisfied. The sigils still danced in his mind as Morrigan disappeared into the shadows, her task for the night complete. He stood alone in the vast library, taking one last look at the rows upon rows of forgotten knowledge before he exited the Void.

Back in his room, the mansion was still quiet, but Vas's mind buzzed with the weight of new possibilities. He had gained new power tonight, but there was still so much more to learn. Tomorrow, he'd meet with Thoth and Master.

But for now, rest.

He collapsed onto his bed, feeling the weight of the day's events settle into his bones. Sleep came quickly, but even in his dreams, he could see the faint glow of sigils guiding his way.

The next morning, Vas woke up still tired, but time was ticking. He had a looming deadline: social service, which he knew would be a tedious obligation. Although school was out, the clock was running, and he couldn't waste any time.

The morning was spent practicing the sigil-making lessons Morrigan had drilled into him. The rules of creating a sigil were precise, each one bearing weight and consequence. Every sigil needed a crystal-clear purpose—any uncertainty could lead to chaos. The medium was equally crucial. Drawing a sigil in blood, for example, would have far different results than etching one into stone. Everything had a cost—Anima, energy, sometimes even the very soul. Powerful sigils demanded more, and mishaps were not just dangerous, they could be fatal.

As Vas sat there, tracing patterns and symbols Morrigan had taught him, the air felt heavy. The deeper he immersed himself, the more he could sense the latent energy swirling around him. Dark, ancient forces hummed within the symbols, and every now and then, he felt a flicker of cold, like unseen eyes watching over his shoulder. This wasn't just a casual study; it felt like tiptoeing through forbidden knowledge.

Before long, it was almost time for his meeting with Elliot. Vas threw on a pair of shorts and an oversized sweater, lazily tying his hair. He never cared much about his appearance, a habit his grandfather had always scolded him for, but today was no different.