Leon found the bottom of the stairway just as he’d left it: a collapsed escape tunnel on the left, while to the right were a pair of enormous doors that looked sturdy enough to withstand any attempt to force them open. A few feet in front of those doors was a glowing runic circle, the button that would open those doors.
When Leon approached the circle, he held his hand out, but he knew that he didn’t need to channel his magic into this runic circle to get the doors open. Instead, a small lightning bolt conjured by the runic circle connected his outstretched fingers to the circle, letting it examine his body in its entirety and verify his lineage. Once the power of the Thunderbird was confirmed to reside within him, the runic circle flashed with golden light and the doors began to slide open.
“It should be all right, now, but be careful!” Leon called out to his lovers still waiting further up the stairs. He couldn’t be sure that any defenses on the archives were now lowered, but he was at least confident enough that any danger that Elise and Maia might face was now passed with the runic circle verifying his identity. There were plenty of people who married into the Clan, after all, who might need access to the archives.
Thankfully, while Elise and Maia slowly came down the stairs with all due caution, nothing happened that would’ve indicated to Leon that they were in any danger. The magic in the air and the walls that he could sense remained about as energetic as it was only a few moments before, indicating that at the very least there weren’t any magical defenses that were activating themselves.
“This place…” Elise murmured in wonder as she stared at the massive doors, her awe growing as they passed through the subsequent marble corridor and into the great chamber beyond. They were quite far underground, farther than she’d imagined when Leon had told her of this place, but still, the enormity of the chamber beyond the doors wasn’t something she was entirely prepared for.
Maia’s eyes were wide with wonder, though her reaction was a little more muted compared to Elise’s, which Leon found understandable given she had the experience of Nestor’s lab to set her expectations. Elise had seen the prison, of course, but its beauty was of a far more technical kind, rather than the comforts put on display when the Thunderbird Clan wanted to show off.
But even with those expectations, the archives of House Raime were marvelous.
Leon was a little nervous when he saw that the inner door was open, but one they stepped out into the chamber itself and found it exactly as he’d left it, he relaxed. He still saw the countless bookshelves filled with seemingly endless tomes, the enormous domed ceiling both painted and enchanted to look like the sky outside and set with a large diamond in the center that acted like an artificial sun. This light shone down upon the many trees that stood at the ends of every bookshelf, their gorgeous green leaves giving the room a delightful burst of natural color. The entire room was ringed with gold, like an enchanted wall put into place to prevent anyone from being fooled by the light projections on the domed ceiling and trying to walk ‘outside’ of the archives.
“Let’s go see what we can find,” Leon said with a smile as he started walking down the hallway, the reactions of his lovers banishing his darker thoughts about how much of this place he ought to consider ‘his’ for a quick moment, only for them to come roaring back when he wondered why he was feeling so proud to show this place off.
He kept his smile on his face as best he could, but he could tell from the way Elise and Maia glanced at him that he didn’t have the best poker face. So, he tried to cover his current mental state up by moving on without giving them a chance to ask him about it.
“I think there were some golems here, but they shouldn’t be hostile…”
“I remember you saying something about that,” Elise replied, still giving Leon a curious and slightly worried look.
Maia, meanwhile, summoned a fraction of her power and proceeded with caution. Leon could feel from the killing intent in her aura that she was ready to respond with extreme violence at the slightest provocation.
“Let’s relax and not do anything too hasty,” he said, pausing just as they were about to enter the archives themselves. It was still close enough, however, to see some movement within the bookshelves, a few shifting bodies of bronze moving amongst the shelves, keeping the place clean and the books maintained for whenever a descendant of the Thunderbird arrived who might need them. Unlike the more human-like golems built by Nestor for his laboratory’s labor needs, these golems were clearly mass-produced and lacked the adornment of more bespoke automatons—utterly featureless faces; runic inscriptions only along the joints; everything else smooth bronze plate and a few gaps where brief glimpses of flashing lightning could be seen.
As before, one of these bronze golems revealed itself and began walking toward them with purpose, though not quite enough to appear hostile. It was a little more ornate than its fellows, but not by much.
“That should be the Librarian,” Leon said as this golem approached, then bowed to all three of them, dispelling the remainder of the worry Leon had in bringing Elise and Maia down here.
“Young Lord, you have returned,” the golem said in its deep, pleasantly resonant voice.
“I have,” Leon replied with a note of bitterness in his voice. “However, I think I would appreciate being called by name more than ‘Young Lord’…”
The golem, probably remembering Leon’s similar request the last time he was here, took his statement completely in stride. “Of course, Leon. Is there any specific reason you came here today that I might help you and your companions with?”
“Nothing too specific,” Leon said as he cast his gaze around the room. “We’re just going to look around a bit before we do anything else. We’re probably going to be coming and going over the next few days, but when we’re done, I would like to take everything portable here with me, leaving nothing behind.”
That finally got a reaction out of the golem, though it was slight and barely perceptible. It cocked its head to the side a few degrees and asked, “Is that wise?”
Leon raised an eyebrow in surprise. It was a strangely human question, something he hadn’t been entirely expecting—at least, not phrased that way. Some protestations at taking everything away, or asking for confirmation, sure… but questioning the wisdom of leaving with everything in tow? Leon was expecting something a little more… mindless from the metal being, given the way it had spoken last time and the way that Nestor spoke about such things. But, given Nestor’s other talking golem and the precedent of the stone giants, he didn’t know why he was surprised…
Deciding to ignore that question for a few seconds, he said, “I want my wives to be allowed full access, if they don’t already have that permission.”
He heard some elated gasps from Elise and Maia when he referred to them as wives, but he felt that doing so would be the best thing to do if he were dealing with sentient golems, as he was suspecting he was. If they were anything else, then they might not be seen as being a part of the family, and thus restricted in some way from exploring the archives as they saw fit, even if they had his permission to enter.
“So long as they have the assent of a full-blooded member of the clan, those who marry into it have no restrictions,” the Librarian helpfully responded.
Leon gave it a grateful smile and then turned back to Elise and Maia, both of whom were staring at him with their versions of love and adoration; looks which he unashamedly returned. “I’d like to stay here and speak with the Librarian a little bit more. I’ll catch up with you two in a few minutes…”
“Sure thing, husband,” Elise replied, giving him a smoldering look as she clearly relished whispering the word. “We won’t be far…”
Maia was a little more subdued since she and Leon were already mates, but she could still sense something a little different in how Leon referred to her as a wife. She didn’t say anything, but the way she stared at him promised only delight once they returned to a place where they could have a little privacy. It wasn’t going to be this place, however, as Elise took Maia’s hand and began pulling the river nymph further into the archives, laughing a bit as Maia stumbled when her lake-blue eyes broke their lock on Leon.
Leon was a little hesitant to let them wander off without him—he wanted to be the one to show this place off, after all. However, he also knew that what he needed more was to spend a little bit of time with people who could both help him with his current issues and were a little more removed from him. To that end, as his lovers vanished into the seemingly endless bookshelves, Leon turned his attention back to the Librarian.
“The last time I was here, you told me that this place stored histories, records of the Clan’s culture, and of the magics they wielded.”
“This one did say that,” the Librarian responded with a slight bow of its head. “It’s a shame that few have sought them out, but these records have been meticulously maintained.”
“Let’s go check these things out,” Leon said, leading the Librarian off in a slightly different direction than Elise and Maia had gone, making some small talk with the golem as he went. The more he spoke with it, the less he thought it was properly sentient, but even if it wasn’t, it was a tremendously convincing thing. Not quite up to the standard of the stone giants or Nestor’s prized golem, but quite the achievement, nonetheless.
After perusing some of the books and having the Librarian explain them to him—they were mostly histories of House Raime from the past ten thousand years or so rather than histories of the Thunderbird Clan proper—Leon finally brought their conversation around to what he was a little more interested in hearing about.
“What was your relationship with Prince Nestor?” Leon asked, watching the golem for any behaviors that might indicate surprise.
The golem, however, wasn’t human, and if it displayed anything that could showcase its surprise or hesitance to answer, it was beyond Leon’s ability to perceive.
“This one’s creator was not present much, according to this one’s memories,” the golem answered without a shred of antipathy or bitterness in its voice. “Following this one’s construction, this one was shown how to manage the records kept here, and then this one was left to fulfill its function.”
Leon nodded, not really surprised but still a little disappointed.
“I found him, you know. Prince Nestor. He was dead.”
“A great loss to the Clan.”
Again, the golem’s tone of voice didn’t change much, any fluctuations in any emotions it might’ve been feeling not coming through when it spoke. Leon found it a little disconcerting, but he also felt almost comforted, in a way. It meant the golem wouldn’t judge him for what he was about to say.
“I’ve been thinking over the past few years. When I was last here, I was ready and willing to take whatever House Raime and the Thunderbird Clan had left for me. I wouldn’t have hesitated to take everything I could possibly carry; if we hadn’t been interrupted by that patrol sent to investigate my breaking into Argent Palace, I certainly would’ve taken more…”
Leon’s eyes drifted toward the back of the archives, to where the door that the Librarian had shown him to last time was, still almost impossible to notice tucked away in one of the many alcoves that dotted the circular chamber’s wall. The Librarian hadn’t been able to tell him how to open the door, but he was certain that something worth that protection was behind it, and that he would’ve spent quite a bit of time trying to get it open if he’d had more time four years ago.
He was still absolutely going to look it over again, even if he wasn’t reserving judgment on using whatever was inside.
“Now, however,” Leon continued as the Librarian patiently listened and waited for him to finish, “I’ve been having second thoughts about that kind of mindset. It’s not that I don’t want everything here, I do. But, more than that, I want to be my own person, someone who can credit himself for his achievements, someone who doesn’t rely on inheritance to ride to the top. I’m not sure how to reconcile these two wants. To be a part of the Clan, and yet not to partake in anything that was left behind. If I don’t take it, then it will probably fall into the hands of someone who isn’t a part of the Clan—the Thunderbird herself told me I was the last who bore her power, and recent events have convinced me that she wasn’t lying. If I don’t take what the Thunderbird Clan left behind, then I’ll be essentially giving away all of it to whoever is willing to take it.”
The Librarian waited patiently as Leon spoke, his mouth practically just letting loose with a stream of consciousness. He wasn’t sure he was making enough sense, and he wasn’t sure if the Librarian could even help, but he needed to tell someone, and he wasn’t quite ready to tell those who were a little more personally invested in him.
Unfortunately for him, that didn’t mean they couldn’t hear him, or that they could hold their tongues. From the depths of his soul realm, he suddenly heard the voice of Nestor, going against Leon’s conditions and orders and speaking without being directly included in the conversation.
[Your struggle is not something unique to you, kinsman,] Nestor said, his voice resounding through Leon’s mind more like the kind grandfather that he portrayed himself as right before he invaded Leon’s soul realm. [Many in the Clan have wrestled with the same emotions. Many have even renounced their claims to any wealth and power that they might have received as part of the Clan. Some of these people went on to be great, proving to themselves and to everyone else that they were great unto themselves, while a great many others failed and died in obscurity, or came crawling back to the Clan, now convinced that the only way they would taste greatness was by proxy. Your thoughts are not new, and I don’t doubt for a second that any descendants you may leave will struggle with the same things.]
Leon couldn’t help but scowl as the man spoke, his distaste for Nestor almost causing him to throw out Nestor’s comments without thought or consideration. All of these thoughts in his head started because of what Nestor did. But he paused just as the words almost left his mouth.
‘Is this not the reason why Nestor was kept alive?’ he mused as his scowl turned bitter. ‘I suppose I can at least hear him out…’
[And what sort of insights do you have in this specific matter?] Leon responded, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice and the implied and unspoken threat of violence out of his tone.
Seemingly unfazed, Nestor replied, [You are the last of the Clan. If I were in your boots, I would take everything I possibly could. Our enemies are beyond counting, you’ll need it all. Better all of it fall into your hands than the degenerates who looted the corpse of our Clan, after all…]
[Our enemies can wait,] Leon countered. [We’re not in a rush and I don’t want to grow reliant on handouts from the Clan.]
[There’s a difference between relying on handouts and using provided tools, young one,] Nestor replied, his tone like that of an elder lecturing a junior, which while accurate regarding their situation, only served to infuriate Leon. [Besides, I’m not entirely convinced that this is actually about the items themselves.]
[And what do you mean by that?!]
[You didn’t have these thoughts before coming to me, did you? And now you have them. What changed in my lab?]
‘Everything,’ Leon thought, though he didn’t direct it to Nestor.
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All of these thoughts could be traced to that damned lab, to being possessed and used like meat by a member of his Clan. He hadn’t been able to think much about it at the time since he had other things to worry about, but it hit him when he returned to the prison, even if he wasn’t entirely conscious of it at the time.
Nestor wasn’t insane, at least not in a mentally-broken-by-time kind of way. He’d shown Leon exactly the kind of ruthlessness and callousness that his Clan had been capable of, how even for all its greatness, the Clan had been brutal and without mercy. Nestor had not only invaded Leon’s soul realm when Leon had shown up, but had also destroyed his own golems without a second thought. Justin’s imprisonment, even if Leon didn’t much care that it happened to Justin in particular, was indicative that Leon’s treatment wasn’t unique.
Leon’s blood curdled at the thought of being used like that again, either having his body stolen or being plugged into one of those vine enchantments. To feel those things burrow into his skin and leeching away his magic power by stealing his blood.
As he thought about it, Leon had to stifle the urge to immediately vomit. He could fight and he could kill, but he would never be the kind of person who could steal another person’s body, or who could imprison someone in such a contraption.
If Nestor was emblematic of what the Thunderbird Clan was, Leon wanted nothing to do with it. He’d rather be a Raime. He’d rather shed the former legacy entirely in favor of the latter. But that was essentially impossible. The Thunderbird’s power was too tightly intertwined within him, he couldn’t just abandon it even if he wanted to. No matter what he did, he’d always be seen as a part of the Thunderbird Clan.
He scowled, but he knew it was true. So that left him one option: he’d have to prove himself better than them, both to himself and to everyone. Leon took a deep breath as this new realization dawned on him, and with it came a degree of conviction. This would have to be his path forward, to build his own family better than the Thunderbird Clan in every way.
But first, he’d have to prove to himself that he could do it.
[I’ll use knowledge, I’ll take advice to heart,] he said as evenly as he could, setting aside any moral concerns he had for the time being. He was hardly the kind of person worthy of judging others for their actions, after all, and with some further thought, he was sure that some of the actions of the ancient Thunderbird Clan were likely justified in some way.
Having just come out of a civil war, Leon could understand that sometimes retaining power required the shedding of blood, and if the right person was doing it, then a people as a whole might be able to come out of the other side better off than they were before. The vines and tree roots that leeched mana and possession stuff still disturbed the hells out of him, though.
[I don’t think I can take anything material right now,] he continued. [I… I need to prove to myself that I can do this, that I’m not just riding coattails or a child playing with old toys he inherited, that I’m not just a vessel with the illusion of free will that the Thunderbird is using to rebuild her Clan. If I don’t, then what would be the point of fighting to prevent you from possessing me? I’m not an animal, I don’t think I’m an idiot that needs to be lifted up to greatness. I have to do some of this on my own.]
He heard Nestor heavily sigh and fall silent, while the attention of both Xaphan and Thunderbird rushed to fill the gap.
[For what it’s worth, boy, I completely support that decision,] Xaphan said. [Standing upon your own feet on foundations that you’ve built will always be better than doing otherwise.]
The Thunderbird added, [There’s no shame in taking what has been left behind, but if you don’t believe you need it, or you believe that accepting it would weaken you in the long run, then leave it behind. As you advance through the tiers, you’ll find that perception and mental state are far more important than they were in the beginning of your journey through the magical tiers, when you were working only on preparing your body to create and manipulate elemental magic. Be certain in this, and any potential losses will not matter. Nestor and I can teach you what you need to know to build your needed tools. All you have to do is ask.]
Leon’s eyes began to burn with something that resembled both shame and gratitude. He knew that the power of the Thunderbird was within him, her legacy was too intertwined with his to ever escape. But there had to be limits, he couldn’t coast on whatever scraps of the Clan that still have yet to be claimed. He had to rebuild the Clan—or build his own, as it were—not simply inherit it.
And he felt like he knew a good place to start to rebuild some of his pride and confidence in himself.
Leon brought himself back to reality where the Librarian was patiently and silently waiting for him, seemingly without a care that Leon hadn’t said a word for an awkwardly long time.
“I want to see that door again,” Leon said, his voice a little stronger and more purposeful than it was before, though still not quite where it had been only a month ago. “I want to know what’s locked in there.”
The Librarian bowed and began leading him back to the small alcove where the featureless stone door awaited him. Leon wasn’t sure if he would take anything that might be back there, but he had to know what was behind it. Regardless of how he was feeling, he was not going to leave the archives until that door was open.
Upon reaching it, the Librarian stepped back as Leon examined it thoroughly. The stone door had been clearly built to be completely featureless, save for the familiar trapezoidal shape that was so common to Thunderbird architecture. There was no obvious way to open it, and from what Leon remembered from his previous attempts to get it open four years ago, the door just ate magic power that was channeled into it. It was marked with light scratches that spoke of many failed attempts to physically open it.
It was a strange thing, though, Leon thought to himself as he stared at the door, the Librarian at his side, quietly hovering just in case Leon needed it for anything. This door wasn’t set into an alcove perfectly opposite the entrance to the archives, and from what he could tell, none of the other numerous alcoves had another door, this was the only one. It bothered him more than he thought it would that the door wasn’t perfectly facing the entrance, but it wasn’t the only thing he found strange with it.
Of course, he wasn’t entirely sure what he could point to about it and say that it was wrong, it was more like the entire thing just didn’t fit the room it had been placed in. The archives beneath Argent Palace were beautifully appointed, decorated to the nines; and yet, this door was just a slab of unadorned stone, as if someone had just thrown it together in a hurry.
Leon was starting to suspect that maybe that was the case. Unfortunately, he couldn’t be sure, the Librarian had told him that it hadn’t been in an active state when the door had been installed, though that at least told him that the door hadn’t been a part of the original building plan. It had been installed sometime after Jason Keraunos had been killed, sometime after the fall of the Thunderbird Clan had begun.
It made some sense to Leon that maybe someone from his Clan had stashed something useful behind this door, hoping that maybe someone from the Clan could reclaim it. However, it obviously couldn’t be just anyone who bore the Thunderbird’s power since House Raime had occupied Argent Palace for at least twenty thousand years, and probably longer, but that was how far back most records in the Bull Kingdom went.
So, in all that time, there had been no indication that the door had been opened.
As he stared at the thing, the problem of what it was running through his head, Leon realized that he started to wonder if it even was a door, to begin with. There was no indication that it could be opened at all, it was just a solid slab of stone set into a stone frame in an out-of-the-way alcove. For all Leon knew, if he were to somehow pry this stone slab off the wall, there would be nothing on the other side except more stone or dirt. Or maybe there was something behind it, but it had been taken some time when the Librarian wasn’t active.
“You’re sure this is a door?” Leon asked the Librarian, his voice dripping with doubt.
“This one knows it’s a door,” the Librarian responded. Its voice didn’t waver, but given how little its voice changed at all, Leon wasn’t sure how to take that.
“What makes you so certain?” Leon pressed.
“Unknown,” the Librarian replied. “This one only knows that this is a door, and no more.”
“You don’t know how to open it? Only that it can be opened?”
“Correct.”
“And there’s a room behind it? This isn’t some elaborate joke that someone made to screw with me or whoever else tried to get through it?”
“It is a door, this one knows that,” the Librarian frustratingly replied, bringing a scowl to Leon’s face.
“Please, stop being so helpful, I can do this on my own,” he replied, his voice dripping with bitter sarcasm. In response, the Librarian seemed to take him at his word and took a couple of steps back to give him some space, which only frustrated Leon more.
With nothing else to do and not wanting to ask Nestor or anyone else for help, despite such a master of enchantments likely already knowing the answer, Leon walked up and pressed his hand against the door much like he had four years ago. He felt like if he could solve this problem himself, then he might be able to justify to himself that he’d earned whatever lay beyond. He would’ve proven that it wasn’t just a trinket lying around that he’d simply been lucky enough to stumble over and pick up.
Just to be sure that it still wasn’t possible, Leon tried to channel his magic into it, using it to feel around in the stone and see if he could discern anything that way. Unfortunately, just like last time, his magic seeped into the stone and immediately vanished, like the door had devoured it.
Scowling, Leon took his hand off the door and stepped back to examine it again. It did seem to him like it had been either made by someone without much aesthetic sense or constructed in haste, given how little it fit with the rest of the architecture in the archives, but that didn’t mean that whatever magical force was holding it shut was weak by any means.
Leon swept his magic senses over the surface of the door, looking for anything that could possibly indicate a way to open it, but nothing stood out to him. His scowl then grew deeper as he held out his hand and hoped that he wasn’t overthinking things. He let a few arcs of silver-blue lightning stream from his fingers to lick at the door, but unfortunately—or, perhaps fortunately for Leon’s ego—the door did not respond. It would take something other than the Thunderbird’s power to get this thing open.
But what that would be, Leon had little idea. The seam between the door and the frame was noticeable, but thin enough that he didn’t think he could get anything in there to pry the door open. There were no handles, hinges, or any other obvious physical weak points, indicating to Leon that the answer had to be magical.
But there were no other obvious magical signs, either, no runes, no complicated glyphs anywhere in the alcove, nothing. Even the ambient magic in the archives gave him nothing to go on, for the magic power in the air and in the walls that he could sense swirled and revolved around the room as if there were nothing magical here emitting an aura that might disturb it.
His frustration mounting as long minutes passed, Leon stepped back up to the door and began running his hand along the surface, letting his magic power slowly seep into the stone again. Both times he’d tried this, his hand had been in roughly the same place, so now he wanted to see if there were any differences in other places on the door.
To his surprise, there was. In the center of the door was where the magic-swallowing effect was strongest, but the effect varied in strange, flowing patterns across the outer half of the door.
“I don’t suppose you have any chalk?” Leon asked the Librarian. Again, he was surprised when the golem silently and immediately held out one of its hands, in which was a large piece of white chalk. For a moment, Leon stared at it as if it were some kind of trap. “You just happened to have chalk on you?” he asked in disbelief.
“This one is prepared with a great many writing implements for the use of the Clan,” the Librarian responded. “Should you require it, I could also provide charcoal, ink, and various paints, though my stores are limited.”
“Where are you even holding all of that?” Leon asked as he took the offered chalk and ran his eyes along the golem’s body. It was a fairly bulky thing, having the rough shape of a heavily-muscled man, so there was plenty of space within it to store such items, but Leon hadn’t even seen the golem open any compartments on its frame, it just held out its hand and it had chalk.
“His Highness Prince Nestor equipped this one and all others of the same model with a small spatial storage compartment,” the Librarian responded. “His Highness stated that all Librarians ought to be prepared to furnish the Clan with what is required of them, and provided many materials for the Clan’s use.”
Leon frowned, his surprise growing. He hadn’t taken Nestor to be so thoughtful when it came to his Clan, though he supposed that the Prince might’ve been different before he spent eighty-thousand-ish years dead. Or maybe he was just treating Leon differently because he didn’t think Leon was a proper clansman, despite everything that had happened.
“What else do you have?” Leon asked, his eyes flickering back to the door but unable to deny his curiosity.
“Spell paper, regular paper, various writing implements, various stimulants to keep the younger Clan students awake during study sessions, and a few small tools like hand chisels, hammers, a block and tackle, and several levers.”
“That’s… quite a lot,” Leon replied as he gave the Librarian an appreciative look. “Thanks for the chalk, if I need anything else, I guess I’ll ask you, first.”
“To serve is this one’s purpose,” the Librarian said with a bow as Leon turned his attention back to the door.
Repeating his previous action, Leon ran his hand along the door, inundating it with magic power and drawing long flowing lines across the door to mark which parts of it devoured less of his magic than other parts. When he was finished about an hour later, he was left with a large gap in the center where none of his magic escaped, while it was surrounded with long, curving streaks of places where his magic was practically unaffected, broken up by patches where the enchantment was strengthened again. It looked nothing like the enchantment schemes that Leon had ever seen before, nor even any pattern of magic power that he knew about, but he was confident that he was capable of figuring it out.
There was one long main streak of stone on the door unaffected by the enchantment that began on one side of the door at the floor, swept up almost vertically to just above his head, then curved around the central patch of ‘devour-magic’, as Leon arbitrarily named it, until it descended the other side in an almost mirrored pattern. The rest of the streaks of unaffected stone extended off from this one magic ‘arch’ of blank stone so that when marked with chalk, it looked like a stylized archway on the trapezoidal door.
Leon wasn’t sure what it was, but he had a feeling that it was significant. With nothing else to go on, he tried running his magic through the arch in the same pattern, letting his magic fill in the ‘gap’ between the devour-magic. When that didn’t work, he tried to fine-tune his magic senses and concentrated specifically on those parts of the door that didn’t eat his magic, but he noticed nothing of note, not even a stray wisp of power that might indicate what he needed to do. Finally, in several places along the arch, he tried to draw the ancient ‘open’ rune, but no matter how hard he concentrated, the door didn’t budge.
His frustration returning as he’d spent almost two hours staring at and drawing on this featureless slab of stone, Leon stepped back again to evaluate his options. Only with this change in perspective that allowed him to take in the entire pattern did it finally click in his head.
The swirls on the left of the main arch were stylized but they clearly formed a water rune. The swirls on the right were the air rune, while those on top were lightning. The three elements that comprised the Thunderbird’s power, rendered in such a stylized way that they had been almost unrecognizable up close, and also had the added effect of making the runes unable to manifest any of their effects when filled with magic power, such as they were when Leon was probing the door, further serving to conceal what they were.
But Leon had written those runes so many times that he couldn’t fail to recognize them when marked on the door like that. In that respect, he felt like he finally knew what to do, and he excitedly stepped back up to the door, his appreciation for whoever made it rising greatly. Most people who tried to open the door with magic would just find their magic power being devoured, this was a subtle thing missed easily enough that his chest began to swell with pride in himself for the discovery.
But he restrained himself. The door wasn’t open yet.
On the left, Leon channeled in some water magic. He didn’t actually conjure any water, he just made some water magic in his blood and then channeled it into the door, filling the stylized rune on that side. To his immediate confidence-boosting relief, he felt all of the devour magic on that side of the door immediately vanish as one-third of a runic circle appeared in the center of the door, a runic circle that he recognized as being nearly identical—this part, at least—to the one that had opened the main door of the archives. The few small changes he could see were what he guessed to be a few enchantment modifiers to make the runic circle a little more discerning in what could make it open.
Leon quickly channeled air magic and lightning magic into the right and top runes, respectively, and like with the water rune, all but the central patch of devour-magic vanished, leaving nothing but the modified runic circle hovering there an inch off the surface of the stone. Despite its small size, it had hundreds of small runes glowing with bright white light forming a tremendously complex enchantment. But for all that complexity, it had been so well-made and so clear in design that Leon found it almost simple to see through many of its functions.
As he’d guessed, it was designed to only allow those who bore the Thunderbird’s power through, but more than that, they had to have a certain amount of power. From what Leon could see, the runic circle acted like a kind of key that when charged with enough of the Thunderbird’s power, would ‘unlock’ the devour-magic in the door and let it open.
Confident that he’d not misinterpreted the runes in the runic circle, Leon pressed his hand into the circle and began to channel the Thunderbird’s silver-blue lightning. He let it flow through his arm and into the runic circle. After letting about as much magic power into the runic circle as a sixth-tier mage would have in their entire body—but left him feeling only a little bit winded—the runic circle flashed with silver light and sank into the door. A moment later, Leon felt a slight rumble in the floor, and the door began to sink.
He couldn’t help but laugh in triumph. Sure, the last challenge had been a test of both his lineage and the amount of power he had, but the first had been a test of his enchanting knowledge, his perceptions skills, his ability to make multiple elements of magic, and his skill in manipulating that magic within the stone.
His heart hammered in his chest in victory, in a victory that he’d achieved by himself, with his own skills and knowledge. The final touch at the end was a little disheartening since it meant that those who weren’t of the Thunderbird Clan or who didn’t possess at least sixth-tier strength wouldn’t have managed to open the door, but he could tolerate that given where he was and what he was doing.
While disheartening, it wasn’t enough to erase the pride that swelled in Leon’s chest at having solved the problem himself and getting the door to open.
When the door finished sliding into the floor, however, his elation was slightly dampened with what he saw. The door hadn’t been blocking a room so much as a slight extension of the alcove. He could stand in the doorway and touch the back wall of what was revealed without reaching too far. However, it wasn’t so much the depth of the revealed space that provoked that reaction as it was the singular object hovering in the air a couple of inches off a stone waist-high plinth.
It was a small silverish-colored plate, about as large as his gold Heaven’s Eye card that gave him access to all of his accounts with the Guild. But it wasn’t made of silver; silver had a duller, grayer color. This was much brighter and shinier.
The color of platinum.