Distant knocks rocked the front door. My eyes crept open and the warm daylight filtered in.
“Mhmm..”
The knocks grew louder. Unconsciously rebellious, I pulled the puffy, white comforter over my head.
“Ahh.. it’s probably already the middle of the day.”
I jolted awake.
“Mid day? Ah- wait, it's the weekend. Goodnight~”
I curled the blanket against my nose. My feet shifted and swiped against a cool patch in the sheets. Knock, knock, knock. Warm irritation filtered in. I threw off the blanket and stumbled to my feet.
“I hear you, hang on.”
Mechanical Entry Grant
+2(ᛞ,ᛇ) | (🜃,ᚺ)
ᛇ . 2ᛞ . 3🜃 . 4ᛇ . 5ᛞ . 6ᚺ
To merely invert my previous spell, “Mechanical Entry Deny”, simply will not do. Security is paramount and the key being the jar itself is what makes the design so robust.
“Imagine removing the lid from a glass jar. The resistance it provides must be met with downward force. Applying pressure, twist and turn the lid until it comes free.”
Founded by Trevold Jarlyre
2-2 Mid Summer Year 27: Age of Quartz
A dial of decorated white light spun against the door. Standing in the afternoon sun were the two Architects that had brought me to Alaphan the day prior. I slammed the door.
“Ah. Sorry! We don’t want any!”
“Why you-”
The Senior Architect, trying to keep his Junior in check, spoke through the door. I, trying to get out of my pajamas, ignored most of it.
Dress to Empress Yourself
ᚾ+5 | +3(ᛞ,ᛇ) | 🜁+2 | ᛗ
ᛗ . 2ᚾ . 3ᛞ . 4ᛇ . 5ᚾ . 6🜁 . 7:i2(ᚾ,ᛞ,ᛇ) . 13🜁 . 14ᚾ
When you have so many clothes and so little time this is the only way to get ready in the morning.
“Imagine a stack of candy wrappers neatly placed atop one another. Wrap each around your finger as you please and marvel at the shine they reflect.”
Founded by Yu Xiao
1-3 Late Winter Year 44: Age of Transcendence
“It is an order from the Praetor.”
Mechanical Entry Deny
ᛇ+2 | (🜃,ᚺ)
🜃 . 2:i2(ᛇ) . 4ᚺ
Deceptive with its simple design, the shape and size of the jar apply a unique magical lock on top of providing the motion to secure a physical lock.
“Imagine tightening the lid on a glass jar. Turn it as little or as much as you like, but keep in mind that jar’s nature.”
Founded by Trevold Jarlyre
1-3 Mid Summer Year 27: Age of Quartz
A vein drummed against my forehead.
“Of course it is, why wouldn’t it be? Just throw Alaphan’s name around and suddenly that makes it okay to show up where I sleep in your gaudy robes. Shoot, now I can’t get this thing to latch- where’s her key?”
“Gaudy?!”
“The Praetor says he wishes to give you something.”
“Huh?”
“It’s kinda scary how easy it is for you to get through to her.”
I cracked the door ajar and thrust my head out.
“Ehe~ A present? Really? Give it here.”
The Senior Architect crossed his arms and held onto his patience.
“You will have to follow us.”
“I’m starting to get tired of following you two around.”
“Just- don’t make this difficult for us. We’re just trying to do our job.”
“Alright, alright Mr. Junior. Give me a minute.”
I spun back inside and clicked the door closed. My head tilted toward the wooden beams above.
“Evie, I’m heading out - I’ll be back later!”
“Ahkay - where ya heading?”
“Good question, I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.”
“Ahoo~ A top secret mission! Good luck, have fun!”
I found an outfit that made my brain ticklish and happy. With a twist and stretch, my pleated, amber skirt spun and scratched against my black leggings. Tucked into my skirt, a white vest swirled in an ocean of threaded strands set an orange lining. I threw on my cloak striped in golds and blues. Blue stone. Blue bow. Ready to go, I joined them outside.
“You’re going to tell your roommate about this? These are strictly Architect related matters.”
My cheeks pulled toward my eyes, a smug smile taped beneath.
“It’s kinda scary how easy it is for you to think that’ll stop me.”
The Senior Architect called to us from the stone paved street.
“It will be fine. No one will believe their wild theories about us anyway.”
My eyes narrowed and my shoulders slumped while I dragged behind them.
We climbed the First District. Shops and residences were spaced in sparse clumps, but homely by any measure. Leather and brandy, crafts and candy, theaters, decor, and more. It was all you could ever wish for if you wished for a simple life in the big city. That changed the higher we ascended the mountain.
The hustle and bustle picked up tempo, but nowhere as chaotic as it could have been. Patches of traffic were sporadic throughout the Merchant’s district, the flavor of the week determining its uneven flow. Through any such luck we found ourselves whisked by that ripping current.
The streets packed shoulder to shoulder. Welcome to the home of hoots and hollers. Shops, wares, and gifts galore. So inconceivable. What was achievable. Across that cobbled floor. It was a disparate dance to the district before. We ebbed and flowed as I eyed the next store. How long would it be before that all halts? How long would we walk that disorganized waltz? If I told you soon it would be already too late, because we would soon reach that towering gate.
Lost in thoughts that would be lost, the cacophony of conversations ceased long before it settled in my ears. The streets lay somber and the triple-decker buildings fell away. Towering before us rose the golden bars that guarded the Gardens.
Where nature meets the self-centered aristocracy of Alindra. Wait- why didn’t we just cut straight through the First District to get here? Are we not going to the library?
In the most lavish of Eyngard’s five districts, greenery dashed with a hint of gold peppered the central plaza. Sunlight sprinkled honey hued flecks off of cookie cut bricks. They baked into streams that splashed and sprayed a mist throughout the air. Canaries like little plump plums swept sweet tweets across the canopies above. Maestros, musicians, and the hums of passers by. A symphony of tranquility that slowed to serenity, what a difference from the district before.
From its heart, water flowed down a fountain in tiers. Its mouth sprang channels that hugged the roads and together they sidled along buildings and homes crafted of marble and cedar. The details chiseled and carved were creamy and smoky, substantial and comfy. A hodgepodge of cozy abundance.
Planters bloomed in beautiful bunches. Lollipop lilacs, toffee tipped tulips, dalilahs, and daisies and more. The wind whispered a rosy scent tinted with memories that made my heart flutter. While the trees winked between their leaves my face scrunched up and turned sour.
I hate how pretty this place is. No, no I don’t. It’s incredible. I hate how not everyone can live in a place like this. How could anyone possibly live here knowing that others-
Distracted by my fickle sense of self-righteousness, I bumped into the Senior Architect. I fought to maintain my footing and won.
“Ah- sorry.”
“This is it. The Praetor will see you inside.”
We stood before a house painted in slate. Its roof curved like a shooting star that twinkled across cerulean shingles. The walkway I perused had plants that bloomed in brilliant pinks and purples. Drops of dew decorated their petals. It was an unnatural beauty - beloved, but uncanny.
Would I succumb to the district’s beauty with my nose held on trial? Perhaps I could get away and just claim plausible denial. Courted by citrus and earth, the verdict came back after a short delineation. Sentenced to death, no less, by aromatic asphyxiation. The floral scents surrounding me strangled my sensibility. I strolled and twirled, sauntered and birled throughout the courtyard. Guilty.
A golden plaque glinted next to the door, my eyes attracted toward its inscription: Residence of Marina Elysera.
…
“Alaphan.”
I forced open the door. Sitting cross-legged in the middle of a barren room, Alaphan shuffled around sheets of paper.
“IS THIS-”
The door bounced against the wall, vibrating like the reed of a trombone.
“Oop.”
“Is this your way of buttering me up?”
Stolen novel; please report.
“Yes.”
“Well it’s very pretty. I love it. No, no that’s not the point. Why are you doing all this for me?”
“I’m glad you like it. This one I can’t take credit for. All I did was make the arrangements.”
“Then who-”
“Before I forget, this is also for you.”
Ehehe~ more presents. Wait, this is all too much.
Alaphan reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a purple gemstone. Engraved upon it with golden metal was a hollowed out circle, dot in the middle, and two triangles on the circle's edge. One above. One below. The jewel matched his, but with three less triangles.
“That runestone recognizes you as one of our librarians. Not a lot of people will see you as more than that. Those that do will see you as holding the rank of Senior Architect.”
I rolled the stone across my knuckles going one finger to the next. The dim light still managed to refract a brilliant shine inside it. Alaphan’s face scrunched up in a wrap of anxiety. There was no mistaking what I was holding.
This is the most expensive thing I’ve ever touched in my life. A shiny rock is worth more than everything I own.
“You know. This kinda makes me feel a little bit resentful that you guys can just hand this kind of stuff away.”
Alaphan quipped back, matching the stresses in my speech.
“You know. We can’t exactly afford to give just anyone these. They’re reserved for our Senior Architects.”
“You say that, but if I recall correctly after a year anyone who’s a Junior graduates and becomes a Senior Architect.”
“Very true, but not everyone can become one of us.”
“I guess. Wait, us? I’m not.”
…
“Thank you. I know I’m not good at showing it, but this means a lot.”
Alaphan waved his hand in the air.
“It’s our pleasure. We’re expecting great things from you Marina.”
“No pressure right?”
No pressure? Why am I playing along? Is part of me actually looking forward to this? Eegh.
“I have to get back to the library. Consider this place your new home. Decorate it how you like. Make any changes you would like. Let it run into disrepair if you like. It is yours.”
When the door closed I placed the runestone in the pocket of my cloak. Tears collected in my eyes and I folded onto the floor.
The knowledge I shared, collected scraps of the past handed out to the masses, was my life’s work. It brought me joy, but couldn’t bring stability. The few years before that day I could hardly afford to travel outside the First District.
No, it’s more that I didn’t want to.
Disconnected from the present, I obsessed over a fantastical past. Ghosts surrounded me. Not ghosts of the past, but ghosts that would become the past. Faceless apparitions whose lack of hauntings I lamented. I locked myself in a songless chamber that pulled my social heartstrings out of tune. It’s okay now. I know that fate is uncaring and cold. Mm. Maybe that’s not entirely true. Fate is more unable to care, unable to feel in the first place, but how long will it be until I forget that?
It’s because of the Architects that I have a place I can call home. To this day I still don’t agree with them, but even so, I am grateful.
I wiped the wisps of tears from my face and clambered to my feet.
“Right, time to make this my own.”
I’m glad no one heard that.
I slid a small, sapphire runestone from my bag. A dull sheen glossed across its striped, steel etchings.
“Since I’m gonna be on the books as a librarian, why don’t I turn this into a proper library?”
Illusory Schematica
ᛗ+2 | (🜄,🜂)
ᛗ . 2🜂 . 3ᛗ . 4🜄
The perks of taking that summer course in runecrafting. Business is about to be booming, I tell you.
“Imagine your index finger coated in a thick paint. Trace the outline of your most coveted possessions that exist only in your mind and watch them spring to life.”
Founded by Clark Trialis
2-7 Late Summer Year 13: Age of Transcendence
Iridescent illuminations splattered the walls and floors. Bookcases, furniture, shelves garnished with plantlife. The lights molded and morphed into illusions that transcribed blueprints into my runestone. When daylight dimmed near dark, I admired my new home with sparks of wonder in my eyes. I ended the spell and the illusions along with my wonder faded.
Maybe it needs more revisions. Nah, I won’t second guess myself- But. Mmm. - Ah- I’ll need to find a decorator in the morning too. It's been so long I’m not even sure who’s still in business. Maybe Evie would know.
…
“EVIE.”
“She’s probably not worried, but I feel bad-”
The door struck the wall and slammed behind me. I sprinted through the Gardens, weaving past the pompous pricks in my path. Beyond the towering gates, luxury turned mundane. I welcomed the change.
In lockstep with twilight, I trampled through Wind Chime Avenue. Stumbling and bumbling, the steps to Evie’s house met my step. Against the door my hand yielded no light, so I rocked the door open to fill the dim world around me. Panting, but composed, I called out.
“I’m hooooome!”
Evie swiveled from the kitchen table, a half-eaten dumpling gritted between her teeth.
“Mmfh welcome home, I just made a late dinner. Come try some.”
I dropped my sack by the door and plopped down in the chair across from her. My hands gripped the edge of my seat.
“You’re not gonna believe what happened today.”
A lot has changed since that day and if I could do it all again I would without a second thought.
⦿
A bell chimed above my head.
“Hey hey Monty, just stopping by to pick up some ink.”
“Oh hey, Marina, you’re in luck. I just got a shipment of Feyfel Mitherite Blue in yesterday. - By the way, got something for you.”
“Hmm? A present?”
“Not on your life girl, this’ll cost you.”
Ehhh..
“I was talking with one of my regulars the other day and he mentioned this crusty old record one of his relatives had, so he agreed to have me sell it. I think I remember you telling me about the name that’s on this. June something or another.”
Monty handed me a stained, coarse slip of paper and the pounding of the encroaching storm faded into the distance.
The following leaflet was written in the Age of Sorrow by Survey Master June Illijai. It outlines survey efforts to document the living conditions of residents within Eyngard’s Denizens District.
Begin record:
Being assigned the task of documenting this area is a fate I would not wish upon my worst enemy. I can only assume the tragic conditions I have witnessed will not make it to the official publication. Crime, poverty, and death are rampant. How can the King sleep at night knowing the most underprivileged of this city live under these conditions?
I am having to resort to playing morbid games to keep my own sanity compartmentalized. Bodies and bones litter the street, so every now and again I would look around and guess whether the stains on the ground are spoiled peach juice, vomit, or ichor. It’s never peach juice.
The living conditions for many inhabitants, if not outright the streets themselves, are cramped quarters littered with trash and excrement. If the King’s guard have sworn to protect the citizens of Eyngard, then they must all be masters of druidic self-transmutation for not a single one of them can be seen, but many rats systematically patrol the streets gnawing at anything they can get ahold of.
Documenting the Dens - Survey Master June Illijai
End record.
This leaflet was discovered by a patron of the Dirty Jester tavern and promptly used as a napkin before they realized its significance.
ARC ALI 1914.182-1362:R1:XK
Sincerely, Peilay Arco
“So June was in the Dens. Thank you. This means a lot.”
“They’re just some rando surveyor from over a hundred years ago. Why do you care so much about such uninteresting people?”
“Huh? Why not let their legacy live on in the hearts of others? Isn’t it nice to be remembered by someone?”
It’s one of the three things I care most about after all.
“But these legacies are just ordinary and boring. It’s not like you have any prior connection to these people or anything.”
Ehh. Now this feels super nostalgic. Besides that, the only lives I’d consider boring are our own. Ahyaya- stop. That’s not nice.
“I’m sure if they were still around they wouldn’t see themselves as boring. Besides, you never know what could happen by their final chapter.”
Ehee~ Such a cool line.
“Whatever. I don’t get it, but I guess as long as it makes you happy.”
This document might not be important to most people, but to me it completes a story. Now I know June’s final act of compassion was for the people of the Dens.
“Thanks again for the deals today, Monty.”
“Don’t sweat it, some of the stuff you buy my normal customers wouldn’t bat an eye at.”
“Are you saying I’m not normal?”
We both chuckled while the bell chimed above my head.
“Stay safe out there.”
“Same to you, I’ll see you later.”
The winds carried an earthy scent. It complimented the saturated shade the skies cast, but my head was too far in the clouds to notice.
Man, I'm exhausted. What a day and I hardly did anything- huh? Rain- ah-ah-ah, I completely forgot. Where’s my umbrella?
I hopped back into Monty’s shop and flashed her a sideways wink.
Miles’s Dimensional Retrieval
ᛞ+6 | ᚾ+3 | 🜃+2 | (🜁,🜄)
🜃 . 2ᛞ . 3(🜁,🜄) . 4🜃 . 5:3i(ᛞ,ᚾ) . 11:2iᛞ
Time is short, so I must make do with as little modifications as necessary.
“Imagine yourself wandering through a forest. Before you lies a puddle of dubious depth. Plunge your walking stick into the mud and watch it disappear from your grasp. Sigh in relief at your apt thinking.”
Founded by Miles Brightwater
3-2 Late Winter Year 91: Age of Ethereal
A blue shimmer shot outwards above my hands. My black umbrella stitched with a ring of purple lace and a notebook bound in soft, brown leather dropped into my arms.
There we go. Ehe~ I’m way too excited to read back over that old document.
I flipped through the middle of the notebook.
It should be shelf 423, folder 12, document 7-
Marina’s Beautiful Library
+6(ᛞ,ᛇ) | 🜃+4 | (🜁,ᛗ,ᛃ,ᚾ)
🜃 . 2ᛗ . 3🜃 . 4🜁 . 5🜃 . 6ᛃ . 7🜃 . 8ᚾ . 9:6(ᛇ,ᛞ)
I am terrible with putting things back right away. So why not spend a few weeks worth of sleepless nights coming up with a spell where I never have to spend a couple minutes reorganizing my collection again?
“Imagine yourself, beautiful and free, hovering above a field of numbered stakes rising from the ground. Fly to the one you desire and pluck it from the earth.”
Founded by Marina Elysera
2-2 Late Summer Year 20: Age of Uncertainty
The words on the page shifted and stretched from a list of records to a full-fledged passage.
Here it is. June, what a terrible fate you were forced to meet.
The following document is a transposition from a runestone that recounts the unedited last survey conducted by Survey Master June Illijai prior to their officially recognized retirement.
Begin record:
If his lordship seeks more proof, then more proof I shall give. What could he ever know of how the least privileged of this city suffer?
...
In the alleyways I am climbing over bodies. Who knows if they are moments from death or just soundly sleeping. This is the reality of - my leg feels warm. Why can’t I move it - it’s hot. It hurts so much. My screams won’t make it past my chest. I feel something clinging to my neck. It’s pushing in. I.
End record.
ARC ALI 1867.041-2671:R1:XK
Sincerely, Marline Tulas
Addendum.
Because of the length of time passed, the classification has been updated to WK.
ARC ALI 1941.227-1801:R2:WK
Sincerely, Kolas Viran
⦿
June’s story is one of many I’ve discovered over the years and it won’t be the last.
When I returned home from Monty’s shop today I decided to put this all into writing. The ink that stains this page will one day be forgotten and I have no hope that anyone will remember these words. But even if it’s just for a little bit, I hope you enjoy my story like I have so many others.