Broken Handle

Sarah and Isadora locked themselves away in the obscure ancient texts since Aurora's fate had been ordained.

It was a futile attempt to save someone with a broken origin, even more futile than trying to calm down a forest fire with a glass of water.

Varian walked through the well maintained floating gardens, down the red stone road, toward the spire of white.

On the sides of the path, numerous Isadora came into sight, minds immersed as they scanned through an ancient book or an old research or older myths.

From time to time, there were also multiple Sarah who sat nearby, checking through the texts read by nearby Isadora and adding her own comments.

Even though the objects in their hands resembled books, these were far more advanced carriers of information. A single page might as well fill up a mortal library.

Varian held his breath as he reached the entrance. He looked composed and calm.