“I’m sorry, Ether,” the words slipped out, hanging like dust motes in stillness. The silence pressed in, heavier than the air in the stacks. Small and insignificant, he stood beneath the towering bookshelves. Was it anger he sensed from the archive, or indifference? Awaiting forgiveness, his gaze darted around nervously, but the archive offered no response.
Taking a deep breath, he began counting primes to steady himself—a habit he’d formed during exams. “2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13...” The familiar numbers calmed his racing heart.
As if summoned by his recitation, the odd presence reappeared, grazing his thoughts with something akin to... approval? The sensation beckoned him forward, and a faint light appeared in the gloom ahead. In the quiet stacks, even the rustling of his robes seemed magnified as he stepped forth. He followed the guidance, books towering overhead as every sense felt heightened by the strange atmosphere.
He startled when a small desk materialised before him, an open book resting upon its surface. A soft glow lit two paths that continued onward, one to the left of the desk, one to the right. However, the guiding presence had withdrawn, leaving him alone to ponder the tome.
Kor frowned as he stepped up to read the single line of text: “I am a three-digit number. My second digit is 4 times bigger than the third digit. My first digit is 3 less than my second digit. What number am I?”
He shook his head, almost laughing at the simplicity. “Easy, 141.” The book vanished the moment he spoke, causing him to shuffle back a step in surprise. It seemed as if Ether was testing him, and if all the challenges were going to be this easy, he had nothing to worry about.
He looked between the two exits, but nothing had changed. “I solved the problem, didn’t I? Kind of expected a bit of guidance after that,” he chuckled to himself, the sound dry and uncertain, as he scanned the room, waiting for something to happen.
The magical presence appeared happy to allow him to decide for himself. I don’t think the question relates to this choice. There’s nothing about the number 141 that seems to show left or right. He stood there for several minutes, working through various mathematical properties, trying to divine a hidden meaning that might inform his decision.
“I guess it’s a gut call then?” he said aloud, still feeling foolish for talking to empty air. “I don’t feel like I can decide the right answer based on the math, so I’ll go left.” Since the archive was communicating with him, it seemed logical to assume it understood his words.
He stepped into the walkway between the shelves, a faint magical glow barely illuminating the narrow path. Barely a dozen steps later, and he found another alcove with an identical setup to the last. As he walked over to the new book, he couldn’t help wondering if he’d chosen correctly, and what might happen if he hadn’t.
“If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?” The words stirred something deep, pulling an answer from him before he could stop it.
“I’d like to be able to talk to girls.”
The book vanished instantly. Kor froze, heat rushing to his face. ‘That’s what you pick?’ He cringed, glancing between the paths, as if the shelves themselves were judging him. Of all the things he could have wished for—a sharper mind, a stronger body—why that?
“Uh—wait! Can I change my answer? Maybe something like… being a bit wiser?” he blurted.
The only response was a faint ripple of amusement from the bookcases, like a laugh he couldn’t quite hear.
“Right. Guess that settles that,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. Still, something about the exchange made him feel a little lighter. Maybe Ether’s Archive wasn’t out to punish him.
He stepped forward, this time with a flicker of confidence he hadn’t felt before.
The next question waiting for him in yet another alcove. “If you were a rabbit, would you prefer to sleep in a shoe or in a box?”
Kor blinked at the absurdity of the question. It felt so wildly out of place that he nearly laughed aloud. Was the archive... joking with him? Testing his sense of imagination? He adjusted his glasses and said, “A shoe? It’s got to be warmer than a box.”
The book vanished immediately, and the glow of the path to his right intensified. “Well, at least that was straightforward,” he said, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that the archive had just raised an eyebrow at him. If it had eyebrows.
Growing accustomed to the process, Kor pressed onward to find another book awaiting him.
“Is following the rules more important than doing what’s right?”
This time, the question hit harder. Kor frowned, his thoughts swirling as he pushed his glasses up his nose in a gesture of reflexive focus. Rules were structures, frameworks designed to bring order and fairness. But they weren’t infallible. History was littered with examples of unjust laws and corrupt systems that had to be challenged. Yet without rules, society would descend into chaos, wouldn’t it?
“It’s not that simple,” he said, his brow furrowing further. He could feel the weight of Ether’s attention pressing down on him, expectant and patient.
Finally, he said, “It depends.” The moment the words left his lips, the book dissolved into nothingness, and the room darkened slightly. A chill brushed against him, faint but unmistakable. It wasn’t outright hostility, but there was a sense of disappointment, like a teacher watching a student give up too soon.
Kor winced, shifting uncomfortably under the archive’s silent judgement. “What? It’s not a black-and-white question,” he argued aloud, his voice tinged with defensiveness. But the room remained still, offering no rebuttal—just that lingering, faint disapproval that made his stomach twist.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
The sensation lingered as he stood there, questioning himself. Was it the answer Ether had disapproved of, or the fact that he hadn’t committed to one at all?
He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess I have to think about that one,” he muttered. Shaking it off, he moved toward the path on the left, determined not to let his faltering resolve show. As he stepped forward, the quiet around him felt heavier, as though the Archive was still deciding whether he was worth the effort.
Something shifted. Mana rippled through the air, sharp as broken glass, and the silence thickened like a held breath. The stacks of books fractured and dissolved until an open sky stretched above him. Kor stood gripping a spear, its weight unfamiliar yet absolute. Beneath him, an unconscious teenager lay sprawled, barely older than himself. The rough stone of the circular arena pressed against his boots. His mind reeled—was this even real? The spear trembled in his sweating grip, solid and undeniably real.
His attention snapped to a gate lifting on the opposite wall, and a wave of fear paralysed him as a massive lion emerged. Its mane was thick and dark, rippling like smoke as it padded forward with deadly grace. Its teeth were larger than his hands, muscles rippling beneath its tawny coat with each stride.
Perhaps the Ether wasn’t so harmless after all.
Kor’s heart hammered against his ribs as he slowly backed away, trying not to draw attention to himself, but the creature continued its approach. With growing horror, he realised the unconscious boy was still helpless on the ground, and it wouldn’t take long for the lion to reach him.
His mind raced as he weighed his options. ‘This is probably just a test,’ he reasoned. ‘I doubt the library wants to kill me,’—though he wasn’t as sure about that as he wanted to be. ‘If I leave the boy, that might mark me as a coward, but if I attack the lion, that’s certain death...’
The quandary became more pressing as the lion continued to close in, its amber eyes alighting upon the prone boy. Kor quickly glanced around, looking for anything he could use to his advantage. He needed a better solution than fight or flight, but maybe this was just like the last problem—a third solution would only get him into more trouble.
With no time to spare, Kor moved. Running over to the nearby pillar, his heart thundering against his chest. “Come get me!” he called out, his voice cracking with fear.
The lion’s eyes snapped to him, and within a heartbeat, it charged. He darted around the wide pillar, turning to bury his spear in the ground to meet the lion’s charge. He’d seen such tactics in history books before, but as his sweat-slick hands struggled to hold the weapon steady, he strained to listen through the pounding in his ears.
Had it chosen to go for the boy instead? A flicker of movement behind him instantly answered his question. He barely turned in time to see the lion leap just before the scene vanished.
Kor stumbled backward, landing hard against a stack of books that loomed unyielding, their spines as solid as the stone pillar he’d just used for cover. A sharp thud echoed through the silence, and a cascade of pages ruffled in response.
He winced, rubbing the back of his head, “Great, just what I needed.” As he reached for his fallen glasses, a soft, almost musical chuckle seemed to ripple through the air—subtle yet undeniable. It wasn’t a sound exactly, but a vibration of mirth that made the hairs on his arms rise. Ether was amused.
“Glad someone’s enjoying this,” Kor said under his breath, though a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Sliding his glasses back on, he pushed himself to his feet and turned to the desk that now stood before him.
The air shimmered faintly, as if breathing with anticipation, and three books materialised on the desk in a slow, deliberate revelation. Each one exuded an aura so distinct that Kor stopped mid-step, awestruck. They were more than books—they were embodiments of something vast and ancient, their presence so vivid it felt almost tactile.
The first book, The Logos, was bound in deep blue leather, its cover embossed with intricate geometric patterns that seemed to shift under his gaze. It hummed softly, a melody of precision and order that resonated with his very core. The air around it felt cool and sharp, like the first breath of winter. Logic, reason, and clarity radiated from its pages, and as he gazed at it, he could almost see equations and diagrams forming in the edges of his vision.
Next was The Thymos, its vibrant crimson cover pulsating like a heartbeat. Gold veins ran through the leather, glowing faintly with each rhythmic throb. The air surrounding it was charged, electric, and wild. It exuded raw emotion and primal energy, a chaotic dance of passion and power. Kor’s hand twitched involuntarily toward it before he pulled back. Its allure was undeniable, but it unsettled him, as if it might burn him if he reached too close.
Finally, there was The Eros, a serene green tome with smooth, unadorned covers that shimmered with an almost imperceptible glow. Its aura was gentle yet profound, filling the air with a soothing warmth that eased the tension in his shoulders. It radiated harmony, reflection, and peace. Kor’s breathing slowed as he stood before it, and for a moment, he felt as though the worries and pressures of the world were a distant memory.
The three books pulsed faintly, as if aware of his presence, and beckoned him closer. He hesitated, his chest tightening as a wave of indecision washed over him. Each book seemed to whisper its promise, not in words but in sensations that tugged at different parts of his soul.
Was this another test of Ether’s, or perhaps a reward? His decision had already been made the moment he’d felt its nature.
“The Logos,” he murmured, eyes focusing on the intricate patterns. He could almost hear the crisp scratch of a quill on parchment, equations spilling onto a page in perfect order. It felt safe, familiar—his foundation.
“There was only ever one choice for me,” he said, hand closing around the Logos. As the other books faded, he felt a surge of approval, as though the Archive itself smiled. Unable to resist, he opened it, turning to the first page.
“The Logos: Of Order and Knowledge...” Kor murmured, skimming the opening pages. The text described a reasoning-based approach to magic, its core theme centred on order: using logic and knowledge to shape and understand the very essence of magic. It felt right, like stumbling upon a familiar equation amidst chaos.
The familiar warmth of Ether’s approval washed over him again, and when he looked up, Kor realised he was back in the Archive’s central aisle, surrounded by its endless rows of books. Nothing about the space seemed physically different, except for the ever-wandering tomes gliding silently between the shelves. Yet the air felt changed—charged with a welcoming warmth, as though the Archive itself had accepted him.
He hesitated for a moment, then tentatively cleared his throat. “Um… Ether? Do you happen to know where I might find a book on the basics of mana?”
The ripple of amusement he’d felt earlier returned, faint but unmistakable. This time, it was accompanied by a subtle tug of mana, guiding him further along the central walkway.
“Thanks,” he said softly, clutching The Logos to his chest. For a moment, he felt the Archive’s presence linger before its attention faded, leaving him with only the quiet hum of the library.
He followed the flow of mana deeper into the aisle, his gaze flickering down to the book’s deep blue leather. Anticipation bubbled up within him. Whatever secrets The Logos held, he was eager to uncover them—and for the first time since arriving at Conflux, he felt he was exactly where he was meant to be.