The man was tall, with broad shoulders and armor that caught the light like dull silver. A longsword rested across his back, and the air around him felt heavy. This was a Crescent Knight, guardian of the library.
For a few seconds that felt like eternity, neither of them spoke. Then the knight said, "May I help you, child? You seem lost." His voice was calm, his face gave away nothing.
Arlios swallowed, trying to steady his breath. "W-Well, sir… I w-want to get into the library. How can I?"
The knight turned slightly, pointing at the entrance. "Speak to the doorkeeper. He will issue your pass."
Arlios nodded, his chest still tight for no reason. He had worried for absolutely nothing. Moments later, ticket in hand, a bit upset about the price but still glad he could finally step into the great library where every answer he had been searching for might be waiting.
He took his first steps in, his footsteps echoing across the marble floor. The place was enormous, the shelves stretching up higher than he could see, maybe five floors or even more. Every corner smelled of old paper and quiet air.
After some time searching, he found what he was looking for — a book titled History of the Blessed. He opened it carefully, the pages yellow from age, his eyes scanning lines that meant nothing to him. Until one caught his attention.
"All of the Blessed are categorized into groups. They are divided into five ranks in order:
Shard, those who are just beginning to grasp their Soulflare. Their Soulflare is unstable, faint, and difficult to control.
Lume, those who have reached the first true stage of power. People who reach this rank are average among all. Their control improves, their density grows stronger.
Fragmenter, those proficient with their power, finally grasping a glimpse of the flow of Soulflare. They stand above the average, their essence much denser than before.
Refractor, those powerful enough to be incomprehensible. Their Soulflare fuels their aspect to a frightening degree, their grasp on its flow nearly complete.
Eclipse, those closer to deities than to humans. Their Soulflare burns like a sun, its density and output overwhelming all beneath them."
"Hmm, interesting. I wonder what rank I am," Arlios mumbled under his breath. "Anyway, this isn't what I came for. I need something related to fire or the sun."
He kept flipping through the pages until he found a half-torn one. It looked ancient, damaged far more than the rest. The text spoke of a forgotten god, one whose name had been erased by time.
"How could a god just disappear?" Arlios thought. "How could no one even remember the name?"
Questions filled his head, but he had no one to ask. He searched through more pages but found nothing else worth note. The endless reading had given him a headache, so he decided to leave. He could always come back tomorrow.
Arlios stepped out of the library, the words forgotten god still echoing in his mind. There were too many things he didn't understand.
He found a small inn nearby and rented a room for the night for twelve silver coins. It felt fair compared to the library's fee, so he didn't complain.
As he lay on the creaking bed, moonlight slipped through the window and painted pale lines across the wooden floor. The air was still. Yet his mind wasn't. He kept seeing that torn page, that nameless god, those erased letters. For a moment, he thought he heard a whisper. Soft, distant, almost like his name being spoken. But when he looked, there was nothing. Only silence.
He closed his eyes, trying to shake the unease building inside of him, and finally surrendered to the slumber.
And so, the next day began