Oakhaven was not Greyspring.
The transition felt like waking from a fog-laden dream into a cacophonous, vivid reality. The first impact on Kaelen was sound: an incessant hum of voices in dozens of accents, the metallic groan of carts over worn cobblestones, the distant echo of a blacksmith's hammer, and beneath it all, a subtle undercurrent of whispers that seemed to seep from the very ancient stones of the city. It was a metropolis pulsing with the energy of accumulated knowledge and, as Kaelen's keen senses noted, jealously guarded secrets.
The Grand Library of Oakhaven dominated the skyline, a pale marble citadel whose spired towers scratched at a sky often grey and contemplative. Kaelen set his course for it, Jax trailing behind, visibly intimidated by the grandeur. His eyes, usually bright with mischief and curiosity, widened at the opulence—a brutal contrast to the rustic simplicity of Greyspring.
"By the ancestral gods, Kaelen," Jax murmured, his voice thick with awe. "I've never seen so many buildings packed together, let alone one that looks like it devours the clouds. They say answers to everything are kept in there."
Kaelen only nodded, the corner of his lips twitching into a near-smile—a signature quirk that never fully bloomed when faced with the obvious or the excessively enthusiastic. His gaze swept the imposing facade, noting intricate carvings of sages and mythical beasts."Knowledge is, indeed, a form of power, Jax. And some powers, like some truths, are best guarded—or more often, misinterpreted."
The first days in Oakhaven were a calculated immersion. While Jax, with his extroverted and restless nature, quickly tangled himself in the winding alleys of the Merchant District and the shadowy taverns of the Lower Belly—sniffing out information and inevitably trouble—Kaelen committed himself to a methodical exploration of the city, primarily the Grand Library. His goal was multifaceted: any mention of the Animus Fragments, the nature of Dissonance, and, crucially, legends or records about individuals capable of perceiving or manipulating reality in unusual ways—the Reality Weavers, as he had begun calling them privately.
The Library was a world unto itself. Dark oak shelves rose to vertiginous heights, forming endless labyrinths housing tomes bound in ancient leather and fragile scrolls that disintegrated with careless touch. The air was thick with the scent of centuries-old dust, parched papyrus, and a faint, almost imperceptible ozone fragrance Kaelen instinctively associated with residual arcane power. He spent hours immersed in study, his mind absorbing and cataloguing information with cold, dispassionate efficiency.
He uncovered numerous fragmented tales of beings who could "sing the song of creation" or "unravel the knots of fate," but nothing perfectly aligned with his singular experience. Most texts treated the Animus Fragments with a blend of fearful reverence and absolute terror, detailing their immense powers and the dangerous instability they inherently carried.
Navigating the Library itself was a challenge. Kaelen learned of the different Wings—the Ancient History Wing, the Forbidden Arcane Arts Wing (guarded by seals and severe sentinels), and the Natural Philosophy Wing. Each held its own access rules and whispered secrets. It was in the Cosmology Wing that he met Master Elmsworth, the Chief Archivist—a wizened man whose glasses were so thick his eyes appeared like distant moons. Elmsworth was notorious for encyclopedic knowledge and an equally legendary foul temper, especially toward "young snoops who can't tell a Thule grimoire from a plumbing manual."
"Looking for planar anomalies, are you, boy?" Elmsworth grumbled, not lifting his gaze from a celestial map Kaelen was studying. "Another dreamer seeking shortcuts to power or enlightenment. Most find headaches—and occasionally existential ruin. What makes you different?"
Kaelen, with his characteristic near-smile, replied, "Perhaps my complete lack of interest in enlightenment, Master Elmsworth. Merely a curiosity about the seams of reality. And, who knows, an aversion to unnecessary headaches."
Elmsworth snorted, but a flicker of interest glimmered in his watery eyes."Curiosity, you say. Dangerous—but less tedious than blind pursuit of power. The 'anomalies' you seek aren't in the obvious indexes. They're in the footnotes of the forgotten, the margins of heretics. Good luck not getting lost… or found by those who guard such secrets with more than bad tempers."
Lyra was in Oakhaven too. Kaelen sensed her sporadically—a fleeting presence in the labyrinthine corridors of the Library, or a silhouette observing him from a calculated distance in one of the bustling squares of the University District. She didn't approach directly, but the intensity of her blue gaze left no doubt: he was under watch. Kaelen catalogued her presence as yet another variable in the city's complex equation. There was palpable dedication in Lyra, a flame of idealism that, in his apathy, he found… intriguing. He could sense the faint tension emanating from her—a blend of professional distrust and a reluctant, almost resentful curiosity mirroring his own.
One afternoon, as Kaelen tried to decipher an especially obscure index recommended by Elmsworth, he felt a slight shift in the narrative of his surroundings. A subtle chill, like an off-key note in a familiar melody. Someone was observing him—not with Lyra's transparent focus, nor the veiled interest of the senior scholar he'd noted before, but something different… more calculating.
He didn't turn immediately. His fingers traced the archaic symbols on the parchment while his perception expanded, mapping the surroundings with precise awareness. Access to the more promising sections of the Library—the ones possibly containing real answers—was restricted by multiple layers of authorization. He would need special permission, a powerful patron, or a significant breach in security. Or, as Elmsworth hinted, much luck and discretion.
While Kaelen navigated the silent corridors of knowledge, Jax plunged into the noisy depths of Oakhaven's underworld. He had discovered that beneath the city's erudite facade lay a thriving black market where information, forbidden artifacts, and dubious favors exchanged hands as easily as copper coins. During one of his nocturnal forays into a dim tavern steeped in cheap ale and desperation—known as The Stained Scroll—he began hearing persistent whispers about a smuggling network of Animus Fragments. Some of these Fragments were described as particularly "unstable" or "cursed," capable of driving their users mad or to fates worse.
"Kaelen, you won't believe what I've been hearing," Jax said, his eyes alight with a mix of excitement and genuine nervousness, when they met in their modest rented room on the outskirts of the Artisans' District."There are big players selling those shiny stones you're after—but the business is dirty. They say some of them make people lose their minds… or worse, turn into beasts."
Kaelen, who was absently twirling a small, smooth river stone between his fingers—a subtle quirk when deep in thought—raised an eyebrow."Beasts, Jax? How quaint. And who would be the master of ceremonies of this little menagerie of horrors?"
"Not sure about exact locations—it's all hush-hush, 'who knows who' kind of stuff. But the name 'Master Varkos' came up a few times. Seems like he's a big shot in this scheme, maybe the head of it all."
"Master Varkos," Kaelen repeated, the name ringing like a dissonant note in his mind."Interesting. Seems Oakhaven offers more than dusty books and grumpy librarians. Perhaps there's substance behind all this erudition after all."
Oakhaven, the city of knowledge and light, was beginning to reveal its darker, intricate layers. Between Kaelen's silent, analytical studies and Jax's dangerous, impulsive discoveries, a new threat seemed to be taking form. And somewhere in the shadows of that scholarly city, Kaelen sensed the true test of his unique abilities was only just beginning to take shape.
He gazed through the narrow window at Oakhaven's flickering lights, spread across the valley like fallen stars. Apathy still colored his worldview—the lens through which he saw everything. Yet beneath it, a new current had begun to stir, almost imperceptibly. It wasn't fear, nor excitement. It was something closer to… anticipation.
The narrative was thickening, gaining new players and subplots—and he, Kaelen, stood irrevocably at its center. For the first time in a long while, the prospect didn't seem entirely… tedious.