The faint hum of light still lingered in the walls when Lirien's voice broke through the silence. His tone, cool and deliberate, cut through the dim glow like a knife.
> "From now on, Aria," he said, his silver gaze fixed upon her, "you will decode everything — here, in this room."
Aria froze, still half lost in the swirling runes and shadowed glow of the chamber. The echoes of Xyren's spell — the one that had brought them here — still trembled faintly in the air. Lirien turned slightly, his long coat brushing the marble floor.
> "James and Nina will assist you," he continued. "Their knowledge of Quarties script surpasses any of my council's scholars. Nico," he looked toward the tall, green-skinned figure, "will ensure this room remains untouched. No one enters. No one leaves."
Nico bowed his head silently, his deep voice a low rumble.
> "Understood."
> "And you two—" Lirien's sharp gaze flicked toward Xyren and Nike, the blue-winged figure who stood with arms crossed and eyes like shards of sky. "You'll go out. Bring me what remains of the diary. No excuses."
For a moment, Xyren's expression didn't change, but Aria could see the muscles in his jaw tighten. His wings — folded now beneath his dark cloak — shifted slightly.
> "As you wish," he said quietly, though his voice carried a weight beneath it.
Lirien's attention turned back to Aria. His presence filled the room like a storm.
> "You've been given purpose, Aria. Don't waste it. This is the language of your survival now."
He paused, his hand brushing the cover of one of the journals. "You will work here until I call for you. If you fail…" He leaned closer, so near that she could see the faint reflection of her face in his pale eyes.
> "…you'll wish you hadn't read a single word of that cursed book."
Then, as suddenly as he had come, he turned. His cloak swept behind him in a soft whisper.
> "Come," he said curtly to Aria. "You'll rest, then return."
Aria hesitated. She glanced once at Xyren — who did not meet her eyes — and then at Nina and James. The white-haired girl gave her a small, knowing smile, while James, the red-headed boy with the mischievous horns, gave a dramatic salute.
> "Good luck, human," he whispered loudly. "You'll need it. Lirien's got the patience of a lightning storm."
Nina elbowed him gently.
> "Don't scare her. She's got enough to worry about."
Lirien turned sharply. "Quiet, both of you."
The boy straightened instantly, pretending to zip his lips shut. Aria couldn't help it — despite the tension, a quiet laugh almost slipped from her lips.
---
As they left the chamber, the corridor outside glowed with faint, liquid-blue veins running through the stone — like the walls themselves were alive. Aria walked beside Lirien in silence, her steps echoing softly.
> "You have questions," he said finally, without looking at her.
> "I always do," she replied carefully.
> "Good," he said. "Keep them. But don't let them rule you."
His tone wasn't unkind — but it wasn't gentle either. There was something about Lirien's voice that felt older than time itself. When they reached the end of the hall, the doors to her chamber opened with a soft hiss.
> "You'll begin tomorrow at dawn," he said. "Rest tonight."
She turned to him. "Why me, Lirien? Why not one of your own scholars?"
He paused at the threshold. "Because the diary chose you."
Before she could ask what that meant, he was gone — disappearing into the darkness of the corridor like a shadow dissolving in moonlight.
---
Aria stood there for a long time after he left. Her chamber felt larger tonight, emptier too. She looked out the arched window — the moon hung like a silver coin over Carfein, and the veins of the Tree of Life pulsed faintly in the distance.
For a while, she simply sat there, the silence heavy. Her hands itched with the memory of the pages — the strange, ancient language, the stories half-told. She could almost feel the weight of it pressing at the back of her mind.
Then came a soft knock.
> "You look like you're about to combust."
James's voice.
The door cracked open and the boy poked his head in, grin wide. Nina stood just behind him, her pale braid catching the moonlight.
> "We thought we'd check on our new scholar," she said softly.
> "You shouldn't be here," Aria said, half-smiling. "Lirien would—"
> "Oh, please," James interrupted, waving his hand. "Lirien's probably too busy glaring at clouds to notice. You'll learn, he runs on intimidation and caffeine."
Nina rolled her eyes. "Don't listen to him. We just thought… maybe you could use a bit of company before tomorrow."
Aria hesitated — then nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."
They came in quietly, sitting on the edge of her table. James swung his legs back and forth like a restless child.
> "So," he said, "you're the big key now, huh? The human decoder."
> "Apparently," Aria said dryly. "Didn't even know I was applying for the job."
> "Oh, you didn't have to," he said with mock solemnity. "In Carfein, jobs apply to you."
Nina laughed, a sound like soft bells. "He's not wrong."
Aria found herself smiling despite everything. "Do you two always talk this much?"
> "Always," Nina said. "Otherwise we'd go mad. You'll see — the shadows are quieter than graves."
James nodded sagely. "And colder too. But hey, at least there's tea."
> "Tea?" Aria blinked.
> "Magic tea," James said proudly. "Makes you see stars if you drink too much. Ask Nico — he once swore he saw a dragon dance in his cup."
> "That actually happened," Nina said, smirking.
> "Still," Aria murmured, "sounds better than being locked in this castle forever."
The room fell quiet for a moment. Then Nina said softly, "You'll find a way. You always sound like someone who does."
Aria didn't know what to say to that. She only looked out the window again — the faint shimmer of the Tree's veins glowed on her skin.
---
The next morning came quietly. The castle stirred early — footsteps, bells, the rustle of parchment. When Aria entered the decoding chamber again, the others were already there. Books lay scattered across the table, parchment rolls stacked like towers, and the walls were alive with faint runes flickering like fireflies.
Lirien was nowhere to be seen.
> "Morning, sunshine," James greeted, his curls sticking up wildly. "Hope you're ready to drown in dead languages."
> "I'll try not to suffocate," Aria said.
Nina handed her a small crystal pen. "Here. It helps translate. Think of the word — it writes itself."
Aria took it carefully. "How does it work?"
> "Ancient magic," James said proudly. "Or cursed ink. We're still figuring it out."
They worked for hours, voices low but lively — deciphering fragments of the diary, tracing symbols, comparing old pages. Every now and then, a spark of magic flared when the runes aligned, glowing faintly before fading again.
> "It's like the book doesn't want to be read," Nina murmured once.
> "Then we'll make it talk," Aria said, surprising herself with the determination in her voice.
James grinned. "That's the spirit, scholar-girl."
At noon, Nico brought food — bread, fruits, and a drink that shimmered faintly blue.
> "Eat," he rumbled. "You'll need your strength. Lirien doesn't like excuses."
> "Does he ever like anything?" James muttered.
> "Silence," Nico said simply.
Aria nearly choked trying not to laugh.
---
By the time evening fell, their progress was real — slow, but real. The diary fragments began to form patterns, a map of ideas — and hints of something greater. A ritual maybe, or a prophecy.
As the last light of day spilled through the stained glass, Lirien appeared again. His eyes swept the table, then the faces around it.
> "Good," he said. "You're learning fast."
> "If by learning you mean not dying of exhaustion, yes," James said.
> "Silence, boy."
> "Yes, sir."
Lirien's gaze softened slightly on Aria. "Tomorrow, you'll continue. For now, rest."
Aria nodded, gathering the papers. "Lirien…" she said quietly as he turned to go. "What if I find something you don't want to see?"
He paused — but didn't look back.
> "Then you'll understand why truth is both a weapon and a curse."
And then he was gone again.
---
That night, Aria sat in her balcony, the air thick with the scent of the glowing tree in the distance. The veins of Carfein pulsed gently below, like the city was breathing. She rested her chin on her arms and whispered into the wind —
> "Truth and curse… I wonder which one I'm supposed to be."
Somewhere above, unseen, a dark shape moved along the castle's edge — Xyren, silent and watchful, his eyes catching the light of the moon as he vanished into shadow.
And far below, in the heart of the castle, the diary waited — pages half-open, whispering softly to itself.
The game had begun.