The rise in the horizon turned out to be the ruins of an old, fortified building. It was mostly buried beneath layers of NWCO-era concrete, but the top floor was still accessible, its windows blank and dark like vacant eyes.
We climbed through a cracked, overgrown drainage pipe—a tight fit, even for me.
The air inside was stale but surprisingly dry. And then, I stopped breathing.
This isn't gray.
The walls of the large chamber were lined with shelving that still held the ghosts of color. Faded reds and blues—colors I had only seen in illegal, scratched images—covered the spines of thick, dusty objects.
"A library," I whispered. "It's real."
Benny, for once, was silent. He looked completely overwhelmed by the quiet evidence of the Before.
A voice, frail but sharp, cut through the stillness. "Those are books, child. And they are not to be touched lightly."
From behind a towering shelf, an old woman emerged. She wore a patched gray dress, but her hair was a startling, vibrant white—not the clinical NWCO white, but the soft, pure white of age.
"I am Kira, and this is Benny," I said, stepping forward. "My mother told me to look for 'where the old words sleep.'"
The woman's stern expression softened. "Your mother. Of course. She was... bright." She extended a hand, elegant despite the grime. "I am Elara. And I have been waiting for someone with a touch of green on their soul."
She led us to a small, hidden room behind a crumbling fireplace. It was organized and strangely warm.
"The NWCO thinks they've stripped us of everything," Elara said, setting down a heavy tome. "But the Noble Houses kept secrets. We knew they wouldn't stop until every last hint of individual thought was gone."
"Why didn't you leave?" Benny asked, forgetting to whisper.
"Because someone must stay to preserve the words. And the stones."
Elara lifted her hands. I expected to see the back of her palms unmarked, like mine, or perhaps a faint green glow from hiding a catalyst.
Instead, on the back of her right hand, where the NWCO Power Stones were usually embedded, was a smooth, perfect orb that shimmered with an impossible, breathtaking gold.
It was stunning. It felt… warm.
"Your stone," I breathed, taking a step closer. "It's not obsidian."
Elara smiled, and it was a deep, true, emotional smile—something forbidden in the City of Compliance.
"No, my dear. This is not a Power Stone. The NWCO's stones are nothing but signal blockers, designed to keep your emotions and memories dulled."
She held the golden relic up, and a faint, shimmering light spilled over the pages of the open book beside her.
"This," Elara announced, her voice filled with quiet triumph, "is a True Relic of the Old World. It doesn't block power. It stores it. It holds the memories, the knowledge, and the colors that the NWCO tried to bury forever."
"And you have more of them?" I asked, my voice trembling with hope.
Elara nodded. "Only the Nobles who refused the Uniformity Code managed to keep theirs. And if we are to find your mother's Garden of Eden, we will need the stones to restore what was lost."