Seated within the heart of the Library was a simple marble pedestal. Atop it rested a crystalline orb--rather mundane in appearance, as far as high-tier mystical artifacts went.
Cyril remembered when he had first come to the Library. Back then, the room had been shrouded in a miasma of ancient dust, and its shelves had been lined with the corpses of lost knowledge. Despite recent advancements to the building, the Crystal Chamber remained an unimpressive sight.
Its pinness was deceptive. The only hint of its importance were the shimmering runes adorning the frieze above the doorway. That, and a pair of lion-headed spirits guarding the entrance. They radiated Peak Foundation auras--not enough to ward off a determined intruder, but enough to raise the arms in time. With the number of assistant spirits and the Wandering Phoenix Tribe cultivators occupying the building at all hours, the Library could be a vicious hive once stirred to action.
Disappointingly, the security had proven necessary, as some of the new citizens--both drows and, to Cyril’s shame, his tribesmen--had attempted to infiltrate the nexus room of the Library.
Their attempts to seize fate had proven to be utter folly. They faced total rejection. The Library possessed its own innate rules and defenses to protect itself from being exploited; it had even generated the lion-headed guardian spirits to dissuade further unauthorized attempts.
Based on everything Cyril had witnessed, the Library of Beljeza was linked to a greater network of Knowledge. It was a concept he may have never considered if he hadn’t participated in Elys’ technique: the widespread linking of minds across the battlefield, capable of telepathic communication and sharing of thoughts.
The Library was clearly a node of some higher power. At his level, it was impossible to grasp the true source behind it. During some of his meditations, he had considered everything from a transcendent w written onto reality, to the metaphysical domain of some immortal. He wondered if it may even be some natural confluence of fate--that Knowledge was destined to propagate information in an orderly fashion, in the same way that Fire burned. Creation and destruction could follow the same pathway and achieve completely different results.
Regardless of the Library’s origin, Cyril was more than happy to reap the benefits of helping to maintain it.
One of the most useful aspects of being an official Librarian had been the ability to brand the location of this particur establishment onto his soul. No matter how good his memory was, he doubted he could have navigated his tribe to Beljeza without A Beacon Home to guide him. The drows must have known how to reach the city, but relying on them would have signaled weakness during their negotiations.
Like the gardener-djinn’s evolution, the Library had grown after Cyril introduced it to the proper nutrients. In this case, it was the tribesmen he had brought that fueled the Library. Spending time within the building and assisting it in carrying out its duty granted merit to those who offered their services. And if cultivators throughout the cosmos valued anything, it was free treasures and opportunities for advancement.
Now that he had returned, the steady accumution of Knowledge had activated several new functions within the building. While the true glory of the Library in its heyday had not yet been reached, the benefits from such a modest establishment were nothing to scoff at. It was satisfying to witness the seeds he had sowed prior to his departure come to fruition.
Cyril himself had acquired a small fortune worth of merit, mostly due to being the First Librarian and after taking the lion’s share of credit for revitalizing the Library. He had hoped it would be sufficient to raid the coffers, so to speak--to enshrine himself with Blessings, purchase every avaible upgrade for the Library, and the like. Unfortunately, the heavens were not so generous.
Some of his merit had been drained away by utilizing the services of the more advanced spirits, like Librarian Djinn-Three. More had gone into attempts to recover lost knowledge that had once been stored within the establishment. Echoes of that information lingered like sad will-o’-the-wisps, buried in the Library’s cracks and corners. Extracting such fragile information required all the care of unearthing an ancient fossil without damaging it.
All of Cyril’s expenses had been dedicated to one goal: advancing in a way that could help reach his sister. Despite the generous rewards he had received, accomplishing such a feat from thousands of miles away, while hiding in an underground cavern, was no easy task. Now, he was finally confident enough to make the attempt.
Cyril took a deep breath and stepped into the Crystal Chamber. The lion-headed spirits didn’t react to his presence, though as he walked past he sensed their subtle movements.
They had turned to watch him.
The back of Cyril’s neck prickled, though he knew they meant him no harm. It almost felt as if a grander, ancient entity was watching from behind their eyes. Could a Library become truly sentient? The thought had occurred to him more than a few times.
He stopped in front of the marble pilr holding the crystal. Before he could reach out, a harsh voice called out from behind him:
“Saint Behemoth!”
Cyril winced. Barnabas had arrived.
He gnced back at the imp. “Did you need something?”
As one of the entities responsible for the Library’s resurgence, some favor had also been afforded to Barnabas. He stood up to Cyril’s knees, and his spindly limbs were corded with lean muscle--or, at least, blue-green qi striations mimicking an impressive physique. His tail whipped out behind him, its bifurcated prongs twisting about randomly as if they had minds of their own.
While the imp was still by no means an actual djinn, he existed somewhat outside of the traditional hierarchy of the assistant spirits. As such, the lion-headed guardians and Librarian Djinn-Three could only linger at the threshold of the Crystal Chamber. Their posture remained as unnaturally professional as ever, but something about their presence radiated disapproval.
Barnabas scratched his face with one elongated cw. “Well, see, I realized I never properly repaid you for everything. Me and the ds gathered around to see who could contribute to your awful family problem. We spared as much as we could to help out. Transferred a near twenty-five thousand merit into your name this morning.”
Cyril dipped his head in appreciation. “Very thoughtful. My thanks.”
In truth, it was more likely less than a quarter of the imp’s fortune, but he appreciated the thought behind the gesture more than anything. Most likely, it was actually some sort of bribe in exchange for a future favor. Either way, it helped tip the scales for his ascension.
After making sure no further interruptions were in store, Cyril approached the crystal and id his palm upon it. The smooth surface grew warm to the touch. Moments ter, Knowledge qi pulsed out from the artifact. Cyril’s body resisted the foreign energy at first. With a thought, he dropped his defenses and cast [Mind Scroll]. As he channeled the cantrip, he infused the Library’s bundle of qi into it.
A rge papyrus scroll popped into existence. It hovered above the crystal, dispying the contents of the packet of Knowledge qi as a series of mesmerizing runes.
Layering [Transte] onto [Mind Scroll] presented a new yer of difficulty for Cyril. He had to circute a separate quantity of Knowledge qi according to each unique rhythm, then link them together into a stable configuration.
Even though it took three attempts to bring everything together, Cyril smiled in satisfaction after the divine runes rewrote themselves into his nguage:
[ First Librarian Cyril, Vessel of Behemoth ][ Merit accumuted: 214,500 ][ Access Level: Silver ]
Cyril swiped his hand through the air, and the inscription upon the papyrus changed.
[ Basic Functions: Maintenance, Enlightenment, Advancement, Inscribe ]
Enlightenment, he thought. Immediately, the scroll responded to his telepathic communication, selecting the appropriate word. A new, longer list appeared to repce the previous inscription.
While the sheer number of choices appeared almost overwhelming at first gnce, they followed a common theme. [Enlightenment] referred to transforming a room in the Library into a suitable cultivator chamber. Most of the options were meant to attune the environment toward specific affinities. Many of the options were faded and illegible--their archived Knowledge missing or incomplete from this particur establishment.
Some of the avaible choices that had caught his eye had included [Volcanic Enlightenment], which promised to open one’s mind to the magmatic flow of the Infernal Ranges far north of the desert; [Celestial Forging], intended to mimic the environment of the void between heavenly objects; and [The High Layers], a partially-incomplete recreation of the first stretch of his journey to reach the Material Heart.
Despite their exorbitant cost, he knew the Library could only mimic a shadow of these true environments. It was more of a weak Dominion Impartment, meant to stimute one’s mind and make them receptive to the flow of certain types of qi; truly rare and unique energies would only arise from powerful mystical anomalies.
All of those selections held their own appeal, but he had dismissed them because of a simple notion: if he wanted to train himself within those regions, he would be better off simply heading to the real location instead of spending merit on an imitation. At some point, he wanted to sample everything the cosmos had to offer--but first, he had priorities.
After debating his options over the past few weeks, Cyril had finally settled upon an abstract concept: [Divine Inspiration]. The Dominion of muses and poets and sculptors--a specific expression of Creation with a bit of a deceptively lofty name.
Half of his merit vanished after he confirmed his choice.
Then, the world around Cyril shimmered. He waved everyone else out of the Crystal Chamber and settled upon the floor in the lotus position. Confident that he would not be disturbed, retrieved a selection of treasures from his storage ring and set them into position.
Some of his best--though admittedly still novice-level--sculptures formed a row in front of him. He poured out a dreadfully expensive spiritual wine consisting of millennia-old berries in order to form a magical circle around himself; the aroma alone emitted a potent and intoxicating aura. Pages of ancient texts, some alchemical residue acquired from one the drows, an ancient broken chisel--Cyril spared no expense in contributing to the environment he wished to form.
Once he was satisfied with the arrangement, Cyril controlled his breathing. He soon settled into a receptive trance.
The crystal orb pulsed, again and again, continuing to emit Divine Inspiration qi into the chamber. To Cyril's senses, it seemed like a honey-colored mist had settled throughout the room, bringing with it the sweet scent of ambrosia and nectar. A rge chunk of the merit he had spent had gone toward reserving this specific area, closest to the Library’s core, where the accumuted energies would be the most dense. It didn't disappoint.
Errant thoughts soon began to prickle at the edges of Cyril’s mind. Clusters of rhyming words, shifting images of beautiful sunsets, the vague euphoria of comprehension. He mostly ignored them, instead focusing on his actions over the past week.
Cyril hadn’t been helping reconstruct the city and carving miniature sculptures for nothing. Most of his meditation had likewise been focused on the act of creation, particurly in retion to his recent experiences. His ability to manifest Earth qi into objects had provided him with a wealth of memories regarding forging artifacts--spears, columns of metal, dders, makeshift prisons, and the like.
His Dominions of Knowledge and Earth had both been halted on the verge of a breakthrough for several weeks. It had reached the point that, whenever he was drifting off to sleep, he had to suppress visions that attempted to surface from his rexed mind. He had wanted the environment to be as carefully controlled as possible when it happened.
A slow smile spread across Cyril’s face. For the first time in what felt like forever, he fully rexed. The iron walls of his mind dropped, and divine inspiration came rushing in.
Whatever it takes. We’ll find a way to get you home, Elys.
