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The Minutes Taker

A tense silence blanketed the Grand Hall as the last Patriarch finished speaking. Ariya's grip tightened around her quill, knuckles whitening as a sense of breathless anticipation gripped her. All around her, sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, most of them depicting mosaics of soul beasts and fantastical creatures and casting an ethereal glow over the gathered world leaders.

Representatives from each of the Archipelago's ruling Houses filled the hall, their faces etched with worry and grim determination. Ariya's gaze danced across Lord Corvus's weathered features, the regal elegance of Grand Elder Wonu and House Patriarch Oneshi, and even the inscrutable mask of the Red Queen herself. The very air seemed to crackle with unspoken anxieties in stark contrast to the somewhat joyous gathering that had been the Trials’ Opening Ball.

Yet all eyes, Ariya's included, were inexorably drawn to the three figures seated at the head of the long, ornately carved table. Ayo, Wole, and Mairo - their simple attire a humble island amidst the ostentatious displays of wealth and power worn by the other House leaders. Despite their unassuming appearance, an unmistakable gravitas clung to them, for it was upon their shoulders that the fate of the entire Archipelago now rested.

The recent, terrifying encounter with Ziz, that monstrous harbinger of the Calamities, had shattered any lingering veils of complacency. A palpable miasma of fear hung thick in the air, seemingly trailing acrid tendrils that threatened to choke the very breath from Ariya's lungs.

The deafening crack of Lord Corvus's fist slamming down upon the table jolted her back to rapt attention. His gravelly voice, strained by decades of ordering men into battle, boomed through the hall.

"Debate is a luxury we no longer have! The Ziz has called forth storms that are wreaking havoc on our mainlands. Our scouts have reported seeing fractures in reality itself within the Boiling Sea. Another Calamity is on the verge of breaching Vestige!"

A scattered murmur of grim agreement rippled through the gathered leaders. Lady Eleri rose, her voice trembling yet edged with an admirably stubborn resolve.

"Lord Corvus is right. But blind panic will serve us ill. We need a plan, a united front to face this darkness."

The ensuing hour plunged into a maelstrom of heated discussions and proposals. Ariya's quill flew in blurring arcs as she struggled to document the rapidly fracturing perspectives. Pragmatists advocated fortifying key locations while hardline isolationists demanded an immediate evacuation to flee the oncoming devastation.

Then Elder Nuru spoke, and an unnatural hush smothered the clamour in an instant.

"I have come across the Calamities before," he rumbled, his silky voice and piercing rainbow-eyed stare commanding the rapt attention of even the most irreverent scion. Ariya's spine went rigid, her earlier apprehensions about his shadowed origins evaporating as he effortlessly seized the mantle of gravitas.

"They always operate in a certain way. The first to arrive is the Ziz, heralding its presence with storms and hurricanes that whip up chaos and destruction, leaving no corner untouched by its wrath.” A hush fell over the assembly as Elder Nuru continued, weaving a tale of ancient dread that sent shivers down the spines of those listening.

"Following the Ziz comes the Leviathan, emerging from the depths of the sea like a colossal shadow. Its arrival heralds great floods and tidal waves that swallow whole islands in their relentless advance."

"Always last is Behemoth," he intoned, his words heavy with solemnity. "The land quakes beneath its thunderous footsteps, tearing open chasms and rending the earth asunder. Mountains tremble, forests are flattened, and the very ground groans in agony at its arrival."

Ariya's quill stilled, her hand seized in a tremor of purest mortal dread. How...how could they hope to stand against such?

She sought the comforting figures of Lady Ayo and Lords Wole and Mairo. The raw pucker of distress writ across Ayo's countenance, the muted despair in Wole's haggard features, the furrowed frustration of Mairo's brow...these gave her pause. If even they were so visibly shaken...

The haze of panic splintering Ariya's thoughts was abruptly shattered by an indignant bellow from somewhere in the crowd.

"Where did you gain your knowledge about the Calamities?"

The murmurs swelled, cresting into a crescendo of scepticism and overt doubts assailing Elder Nuru's credibility. The wizened figure regarded them all with an air of dry, faintly derisive amusement.

"Isn't it evident?" His rich baritone rolled out with the weight of an Emperor passing judgment. "I am not a native of Vestige."

"But you are not Starborn like Ayo," another voice argued.

"Indeed I am not," he confirmed with an affirming nod. "My roots lie elsewhere." He paused for dramatic effect, letting his words seep into their collective consciousness. "In my travels to other worlds - some bursting with Powers that dwarf your Legends - I've witnessed attempts to slay a Calamity. Yet none have achieved such a feat."

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His statement imposed silence once again on the crowd.

"Allow me to share how these Calamities operate," he said after clearing his throat. "They are not mindless beasts but creatures driven by purpose and instinct. They strike where magical essence is most concentrated, feeding off of them and retreat when met with formidable resistance."

He then continued, "Despite failing to annihilate any Calamity, these other worlds have managed to inflict grievous wounds upon them." His eyes sparked with unspoken hope as he added, "Sufficient harm to convince these monstrous beasts to move on."

He let this sink in before concluding: "Therefore our plan to revive the Administrator still holds significant promise. We just have to inflict sufficient damage on them."

Sufficient damage? The thought seemed to mock Ariya from the dark recesses of her dazed mind. If the combined Legends couldn't even slay a Calamity...what chance did they...?

Ariya's mental spiral was severed as Wole’s melodious lilt cut through the tension like a razor's edge.

"So we're the chosen heroes, destined to fight the apocalypse?" His wry, sardonic inflection momentarily buoyed her spirits. "Wonderful."

Then his words took on the weight of cold metallic ingots.

"But Elder Nuru...none of us have the faintest idea what this means. How do we awaken this dormant power? And even if we did, where do we even begin with restoring the Administrator?"

The questions - direct, pragmatic, and devastatingly on-point - galvanized the room anew. Ariya feverishly scribbled as a storm of proposals, contingencies and supplementary queries whipped around her. Voices rose and fell, the debate fracturing along long-standing factional lines until...

"The curse you placed on my House," Ayo's voice lashed out, quiet yet infinitely more cutting than any roar. "I found out not long ago that it came from the direct intervention of a Fragment."

The accusation detonated through the hall like an explosion, the shockwaves of stunned gasps and incredulous outcries buffeting Ariya from all sides. She stared, jaw hanging agape, as the Prodigal Fragment's damning role in the Red Queen's ascension was dragged into the open flame.

The Red Queen’s face went through a startling number of emotions, her eyes darkening to as stark a red as her scarlet robes. Her usually steely gaze flickered with anger, but there was also a trace of fear as well. Ayo pounced on it without mercy.

"That's the Fragment involved, isn't it Queen Amara?" She pressed, each word dripping with razor-edged menace as she surgically located the heart of the deception. "That's your true name. And that's the Fragment that helped you. Since you know how to contact that one, you must know how we can reach the others!"

Chaos erupted, panicked shouts and furious denials clashing like battling armies throughout the Grand Hall. Ariya ducked low, fingers shredding her parchment notes as the gauntlet was thrown, loyalties shattered, and the coming oblivion was laid utterly, countably bare before them all.

Amidst the pandemonium, only the resonant bellow of Lord Volkhov, the dour Patriarch of House Stormrider, brooked any semblance of order. Even as the echoes faded, his lips still quirked in an unconscious smirk at the absurd weight his words had carried.

"SILENCE! Accusations can wait - the truth will come to light eventually. But right now, we have a more pressing issue at hand. How do we deal with the Red Queen's past dealings with a Fragment? And more importantly, can this knowledge help us in our fight against the Calamities?"

The rebuke was harsh, unforgiving...yet grounded in a pragmatism that could not be denied. As if waking from a trance, Ariya became aware of every eye turned towards Ayo and the Red Queen, awaiting their response. The weight of countless worlds, of infinite potential futures, seemed to hang in the balefire combustion between their intersecting gazes.

Ariya shuddered and recomposed herself, aten notes flung aside as a fresh parchment was unfurled.

The Red Queen, Queen Amara as Ayo had boldly proclaimed, sat under the withering gaze of the entire assembly. Her usually stoic façade wavered, a flicker of something akin to shame flitted across her features. Finally, under the unrelenting pressure of Ayo's accusation and the collective fury of the room, she deigned to speak.

"There is an artefact," she began, her voice a low growl laced with anger. "I stumbled upon it shortly after...after what they did to him," she spat, a venomous glare directed towards House Whiterose's delegation.

Her breath hitched and it took the Queen a moment to gather her composure once more.

"This artefact," She continued, her voice regaining some of its usual composure, "was unlike anything I'd ever seen. It looked like the core of a city and power pulsed from it like a living heart. Out of desperation, out of grief...I used it," she confessed, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. "I didn't know then who it was I contacted, just someone who promised...power."

A murmur of disbelief rippled through the hall.

"And where is this artefact now?" Ayo pressed, her voice a steely whisper.

Amara's eyes narrowed. "It's still on the Isle," she muttered, a defensive edge creeping back into her tone. "It's massive, the size of a building, impossible to move."

A collective gasp resonated through the room when she gave her answer.

"The Last Isle?" Lord Corvus boomed, his voice thick with disbelief. "Why there? The place is an essence desert, unfit for habitation."

The Red Queen's lips twitched in a semblance of a smirk. "Not any more," she retorted, a touch of defiance in her voice. "Things have changed, haven't they?"

A heavy silence descended upon the room. Ayo, Wole, and Mairo exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Ariya understood their apprehension. The Last Isle had been a desolate mirror of the First Isle before the essence surge that had signalled Ayo's arrival. Now, with essence flowing freely between the islands again, who knew what horrors had awakened within its uncharted territories?

Despite the reservations, a plan began to take shape. The Last Isle was the only lead they had, the only path forward. A team of seasoned warriors and scouts from each House would be assembled to accompany the trio on their perilous journey. Aye, Wole and Mairo wouldn't be venturing into the unknown alone.

Ariya watched as names were called, veterans with steely eyes and weathered faces stepping forward. They were the first line of defence, the stalwart shields against whatever nightmares awaited them on the Last Isle. A sliver of hope, fragile yet persistent, flickered within her. Perhaps, just perhaps, amidst the chaos and despair, they might yet find a way to face the coming storm. As preparations began in earnest, Ariya knew her role as a chronicler had never been more vital. Every detail, every conversation, every decision held the weight of hope, of desperation, of a world teetering on the brink. She would bear witness, and she would record, for the sake of the future, for the sake of a world yet to be written.