Arlith followed the Nythari through the labyrinthine halls of the library that was built beside the Great Amphitheater, the weight of the Starshard’s pull never leaving her. It gnawed at the edges of her consciousness, as though an invisible thread linked her to it, tugging at her very soul, even as she tried to focus on the Nythari's words.

  The towering doors of the library creaked open, revealing the vastness within. Arlith blinked in awe, her breath catching. The space stretched endlessly before her—an immense, dimly lit cavern of knowledge. Shelves carved from ancient stone rose high into the vaulted ceiling, each shelf lined with scrolls, tomes, and manuscripts older than kingdoms. Their leather bindings were cracked and frayed, yet the pages within seemed to pulse with a vitality that defied time.

  Lanterns flickered weakly along the stone walls, casting long shadows that seemed to move of their own accord. As she stepped further inside, a faint flutter echoed through the air—a soft, erratic sound. Arlith turned her head, seeking its source, but all she could make out were dark shapes darting in the corners of the library. It wasn’t until one of the shadows swooped near her face that she saw it clearly—a bat, flitting through the air, its small wings slicing the silence like a whispered secret. The creature was feeding on the insects that threatened the ancient knowledge stored within, a tiny guardian of the sacred texts.

  The Nythari's voice broke through her distracted thoughts, calm and steady as he led her deeper into the archives. “This city, Aeorla, stands on the foundation of the greatest conflict the world has ever known. When Aeloria and Zaryx clashed, the land itself was reshaped. Mountains crumbled, rivers changed course, and the sky itself split open.” He paused, turning to face her, his expression grave. “It was the First Ones—beings older than any of us—who sought to bring order to the chaos that followed.”

  Arlith’s brow furrowed as she absorbed his words. “The First Ones?”

  The Nythari nodded, guiding her to a long marble table at the center of the room. A scroll lay there, its parchment aged and fragile. He ran a gloved hand over it with great reverence. The fluttering of the bat’s wings was almost louder now, a soft, persistent reminder of the place they were in—a library that held secrets far beyond what most would dare to seek.

  “All we know is that the First Ones were the precursors to all known races, save for the Lizards and the Kobolds, whose origins trace back to the Dragons,” the Nythari continued, his voice tinged with both awe and sorrow. “The First Ones are the ancestors of Elves, Dwarves, Redeish, Mourins, humans, Satyr, Faun, Merfolk, and even those lost to time. They shaped us into what we are today, but they did more than that.” He paused, his gaze distant. “They built the first great civilizations. Under Aeloria’s guidance, they forged the Great Amphitheater—Aeorla’s heart—a place where the fractured peoples of the world could find unity. It was meant to restore balance, just as Aeloria sought a balance between light and shadow.”

  Arlith’s thoughts whirled as she absorbed his words. “Aeloria?” she whispered, the name striking something deep within her chest, but it was a sensation she could not yet place.

  The Nythari continued, motioning toward the scroll. “Aeloria, the one who sought to heal a broken world.” His voice softened, a note of reverence threading through it. “She was the central figure in the foundation of Aeorla. And she carried the weight of the First Ones’ pact with her.”

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  Arlith gazed at the scroll, feeling an inexplicable pull toward it. The parchment was brittle with age, yet the ink—strange and elegant—remained remarkably vivid. The Nythari unrolled it carefully, his hands steady as though he feared the very act of touching it might cause it to crumble.

  It was then that Arlith realized what the fluttering sound was. The bat had circled closer, its tiny, bat-like form a contrast to the enormity of the knowledge surrounding them. As if in defense, it darted toward her, but she hardly noticed. Her gaze was drawn to the writing on the scroll, and as she focused on the delicate symbols, something strange occurred.

  The moment her eyes settled on the elegant, flowing script, meaning flooded her mind. Her heart skipped a beat, and she gasped. She wasn’t simply recognizing the language—she understood it as if it had always been inside her, waiting to be unlocked. Her breath hitched.

  The words she read were not just text—they were a part of her. Her pulse quickened, and as she absorbed their meaning, her surroundings seemed to blur.

  Suddenly, she was no longer standing in the library.

  Instead, she was seated at a vast stone table beneath the open sky. The air was thick with the scent of ink and parchment, and the distant hum of conversation echoed faintly. The sun was low in the sky, casting a golden glow that illuminated the gathering before her. Tall, regal beings—sharply angled features, eyes gleaming like polished obsidian—sat around the table, their skin etched with radiant runes that pulsed with an inner light.

  The First Ones.

  Her fingers trembled as they gripped the quill, and without hesitation, she signed her name in the ancient script. The ink shimmered as it flowed across the parchment, as though infused with something more than mere pigment—something alive. The First Ones around the table inclined their heads in solemn acknowledgment, a pact sealed in the silence between them.

  It was a treaty. A promise. Unity forged in the wake of chaos.

  But as Aeloria lifted her gaze from the parchment, the weight of the moment pressed upon her, as if she could feel the eyes of the world upon her. Across the table, standing slightly apart, a figure watched her—silent, brooding. Zaryx.

  The air grew thick with tension, his silver eyes piercing through the gathering like a blade. Aeloria’s pulse quickened, but she held steady, her gaze unflinching. He was not yet the god of ruin, not the harbinger of destruction. But she could already see the seeds of doubt planted deep within him—the quiet, gnawing fear that she would leave him behind. The fear that she was choosing the path of balance, of light, and leaving him to the shadows.

  Her vision fractured like a mirror struck by a blow.

  Arlith gasped, stumbling backward as the library came rushing back into focus. Her hand gripped the marble table to steady herself. Her breath was ragged, and her heart pounded in her chest. She blinked rapidly, as though trying to chase the remnants of the vision that still clung to her mind.

  The scroll lay before her, its words still as sharp as before, but now they held something more—something ancient, something that made her pulse quicken.

  The Nythari watched her closely, his expression unreadable. “You can read it,” he said quietly, his words carrying a weight of both awe and wariness.

  Arlith’s throat tightened. She swallowed hard, struggling to find her voice. “I… I don’t know how…”

  The Nythari clasped his hands behind his back, observing her with an intensity that made Arlith feel as though he were seeing straight through her. “Only those who carry the blood of the divine—or their essence—could ever hope to understand the language of the First Ones. This text is a record of the pact Aeloria made with them, one of the last remnants of their existence before they faded into myth.”

  Arlith’s mind spun. Aeloria. The First Ones. Zaryx. The pull of the Starshard flared once more in her mind, stronger now, as though it were calling to her from the depths of the earth.

  "What does this mean?" she whispered, barely able to hear her own voice over the rising hum in her ears.

  Before she could process further, she asked, “Where is Sorvin?”

  The Nythari's eyes darkened for a moment, but he did not answer immediately. He simply nodded and motioned to the door, where she could sense Sorvin’s presence just outside, as though waiting for her.

  A cold shiver ran down Arlith’s spine. She felt it then—an awareness that something beyond the Starshard was watching her, beckoning to her, trying to make contact.

  And for the first time, she was certain that it was Zaryx.