As Aldric imagined, the Library of Nesharvad's second level was serene, still, and almost revered. The air seemed to shift as he exited the curved staircase, heavy with the weight of age-old wisdom. He took a time to glance around. The shelves were packed with books, their leather spines worn with age, the faint scent of parchment and ink mingling with the cool air. It was a kind of silence that invited contemplation, not loneliness.

  He was on a mission. His thoughts, however, were clouded with everything he had already learned. The Dawn Era, the Otherworlders, the disaster that had nearly destroyed the world. These things gnawed at him, pushing him forward into the vast sea of books in search of more answers. But what exactly am I looking for? he thought. Knowledge about Brasshal, its history, and what had happened in that terrible age that almost brought the world to ruin.

  He wandered through the aisles, brushing his fingers across the spines of ancient books. Some were massive, others small and delicate, their covers cracked with age. He couldn't help but feel a strange reverence for them.

  Who wrote these? he wondered. What did they see? What did they know that's been lost to time?

  Then, as if pulled by some unseen force, his eyes landed on one particular shelf tucked in a corner. The books here were older than the others—thicker, their covers embossed with gold that had long since faded. One book stood out among the rest, its title barely visible under layers of dust. History of Brasshal, it read in elegant but weathered script. The moment he touched it, the faint pulse of mana seemed to thrum through him, the feeling as subtle as a heartbeat.

  He pulled the book from the shelf, the weight of it surprising him. It was old, the kind of book that felt like it had seen more years than he could count. As he opened it, a map of Brasshal greeted him. The lines and curves on the paper were drawn with painstaking precision, depicting a world that no longer existed. Kingdoms long gone, cities in ruins, and territories that had since changed names. There was a sense of deep loss in the map, as though the land itself mourned what had been lost.

  Aldric turned the pages slowly, his eyes scanning the words. The Dawn Era was first described in great detail—more than ten thousand years ago, the world had nearly been destroyed by a disaster whose cause no one truly understood. It was a cataclysmic event that shattered the fabric of magic itself, causing mana to slowly drain from the world until only the elves retained the power to wield true magic. The other races—humans, dwarves, and others—were left with only fragments of that power, relying on runes, alchemy, and shamanistic practices to do what they could.

  Aldric frowned as he read, the gravity of the situation sinking in. This world has been scarred by something no one can explain, he thought. And I'm part of that scar now. Why? Why did this happen?

  He flipped the page, his curiosity driving him forward. There, on the next page, he found the mention of the Otherworlders—beings from another world who had arrived more than five hundred years ago. Aldric's heart skipped a beat as he read about them. These beings, powerful beyond imagination, had come to Brasshal suddenly and without warning. Some of them had become legendary figures, saints, revered for their strength and wisdom. Others had taken darker paths, becoming feared demons who wielded their powers for destruction. The book spoke of them as though they were both a blessing and a curse.

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  What caught his attention most was the line that followed: "The Otherworlders disappeared without a trace, leaving behind only the marks of their actions."

  Aldric's mind raced. Disappear? Just like that? he thought, his pulse quickening. He couldn't shake the idea that there was more to it than simply vanishing. Where did they go? Could they have returned to their own world?

  A sharp thought cut through his mind. Could I?

  He paused, the question hanging in the air like a whispered prayer. Could he return to his own world? Was it possible? Or had he been thrust into this strange place for good? The idea that he might never see home again filled him with a sense of dread, but also a strange kind of hope. The Otherworlders had come here, they had made their mark—and then they had disappeared. Could the same happen to him?

  "Is something wrong?" Eryndra's voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to see her standing a few feet away, her eyes fixed on him. She was as graceful and composed as always, but there was a quiet understanding in her gaze, like she knew exactly what he was thinking.

  Aldric blinked, snapping out of his reverie. "No… I'm fine," he said quickly, but his voice lacked conviction. He didn't know why, but he didn't want to tell her what he was thinking. Maybe it was because the thought felt too raw, too uncertain.

  Eryndra glanced at the book in his hands, then back at him. "The Otherworlders… not many know their story. Few even dare to speak of them, except in hushed tones," she said, her voice softer than usual. "It is said that they arrived with a purpose—perhaps to aid, perhaps to destroy. But when they left, they left no trace of their intentions. No answers."

  Aldric's stomach tightened at her words. No answers—that's what haunted him. There had to be more to it, more than what he could find in these ancient texts. His gaze fell back to the page, but it was as if the words were blurring before him. He didn't know what to make of any of it anymore. The Otherworlders had left, but Aldric couldn't shake the idea that their departure wasn't the end of the story.

  "Do you think they'll ever return?" Aldric asked, the words escaping before he could stop them. His voice sounded smaller than he intended, and he hated that. He wasn't someone who usually sought answers from others. But this felt different. This felt like something beyond him.

  Eryndra didn't answer immediately. She stood there, looking at him, her expression unreadable. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke quietly, almost as if to herself. "The world has changed since they left. Magic is weaker, the land is scarred, and the races… they have all lost something. Perhaps they were meant to come, and perhaps they were never meant to stay. But the world moves on, as it always does."

  Aldric swallowed, his heart heavy with a mix of uncertainty and longing. He couldn't shake the thought. If they could leave… could I?