For Those Lost In Time

Day 12

Why Return to the Cathedral?

Eris adjusted the straps of her satchel, eyeing the frozen ruins ahead. They had spent the entire day searching for the Knowledge Record or at least the Eternal Ember of Flame, but they had found nothing.

A pattern had emerged—survivors who fled the city left clues near places of refuge. That explained why fragments of murals kept appearing close to shelters.

Shelters. Safe zones. Places people instinctively ran to.

Which meant...

Ash exhaled sharply, his gaze locked on the distant silhouette of the cathedral.

"We should check there."

Eris frowned. "Again? We already stayed there the first night. We searched it later too."

"Not properly." Ash's jaw tightened. "Back then, we were just looking for a place to sleep, not answers."

The logic was sound. The first time they stumbled into the cathedral, they had been trying to survive. Later, they used it as a temporary base. They had searched—but only for supplies, not for hidden truths.

More importantly—

"That place still has power," Ash muttered. "Every other shelter we've seen is relatively safe, but the cathedral? It's in ruins, yet it's still standing. No distortions. No sentinels. And the street around it? Too quiet. Doesn't that bother you?"

Eris tensed. He was right.

The more time they spent in Eterna, the more they noticed its rules. Nothing remained untouched. Every ruin suffered from frost, decay, shifting time, or worse—sentinels and distortions.

Except for the cathedral.

The structure had resisted the curse. That alone made it an anomaly.

If the Knowledge Record was anywhere, it had to be there.

And it wouldn't be unguarded.

---

Beneath the Cathedral

Eris ran her fingers along the worn stone at the cathedral's entrance. They had searched every shattered pew, checked every crumbling wall.

Nothing.

Maybe they were wrong.

She turned away—but then her eyes caught something faintly carved into the stone.

"Ash," she called.

He stepped closer, brushing off the thin frost covering the markings. The script was old, its grooves barely visible beneath the ice.

Ash traced the letters with his gloved fingers, voice low and thoughtful.

"For those lost in time."

The words lingered in the cold air, sending a strange chill down Eris's spine.

"Lost in time?" she murmured. "What does that even—"

Her fingertips brushed against the carved letters.

A sudden shift.

A soft click, barely audible beneath the wind's howl.

Ash stiffened. He stepped back, scanning their surroundings. Then—there.

At the edge of the entrance, near the worn threshold, a thin, almost imperceptible gap in the stone. It hadn't been there before. Or rather, they had never noticed it.

Eris crouched beside it, breath misting in the cold. "Is this…?"

Ash didn't hesitate. He pressed his fingers against the narrow mechanism, testing it. The stone shifted, moving as if loosened from centuries of stillness.

Then—

A deep, guttural groan.

Stone scraped against stone. Dust and frost trembled.

The floor split apart.

Before them, a hidden staircase descended into the dark—buried beneath layers of thick ice. A gust of stale air rushed up, carrying something unsettlingly warm.

Eris exhaled sharply. "...Well," she muttered. "That explains a lot."

Ash's jaw tightened. He peered into the darkness below.

"The real cathedral," he said grimly. "Was always underground."

---

Beneath the Cathedral – The True Trial of Knowledge

The stone staircase spiraled downward. With every step, time felt… slower. The air thickened. The silence deepened.

They arrived.

Eris and Ash found themselves not in a ruin—but in a hall untouched by time.

Torches lined the walls, their flames burning in unnatural shades of blue and gold. The scent of ink and parchment filled the air, yet there were no books. Only the hum of something ancient waiting to be discovered.

At the far end, a woman in white stood by an archway, half-shrouded in mist.

---

First Test – The Weight of Time

The priestess watched them with eyes flickering between awareness and emptiness.

She looked both alive and faded—a memory barely holding itself together.

"You seek knowledge," she murmured. "Yet knowledge without understanding is as dangerous as ignorance."

The mist parted, revealing a corridor lined with ten identical doors.

She gestured. "One leads forward. The others lead to oblivion."

Ash frowned. "A guessing game?"

The priestess smiled, the kind that didn't reach her eyes. "No. A test of wisdom."

Eris questioned next. "And by 'oblivion'… you mean death?"

The priestess let out a hollow laugh—soft, yet filled with something ancient and broken.

"Death is mercy." Her voice grew softer, yet heavier, as if the air itself carried its weight. "Oblivion is worse."

The mist around them deepened, swirling like ink spilled in water. For a fleeting second, the other doors flickered—revealing shadows of something trapped within. Figures stood frozen mid-motion, their faces twisted in silent screams, their forms blurred and unrecognizable, like memories unraveling.

Eris's breath caught.

Ash clenched his fists. "They're... still alive?"

The priestess's eyes gleamed with sorrow. "Not alive. Not dead. Just... forgotten."

Eris's stomach twisted. Oblivion wasn't destruction—it was erasure. A fate where one lost themselves entirely, neither remembered nor mourned. Their name, their choices, their very existence would fade, as if they had never been.

"Choose wrong," the priestess murmured, "and you will join them."

The mist swirled again, the frozen figures vanishing as if they had never been. The doors stood once more, identical and waiting.

Eris exhaled, her pulse hammering. No second chances.

They had to get this right.

Once again,the doors shifted.

No longer blank, each bore a different inscription. Some had names. Others had dates. Some simply had a single word.

Eris scanned them, her heartbeat steady. This wasn't about luck. There had to be a pattern.

Then she noticed it.

All the inscriptions related to events surrounding the fall of Eterna.Some were true history they had pieced together. Some were lies.

A test of knowledge.

She reached for the oldest event she recognized as real.

The priestess's gaze sharpened. "Is that your final choice?"

Eris hesitated.

Ash suddenly frowned, his fingers tightening as if sensing something in time itself.

"The past isn't always a safe path forward," he murmured.

Eris inhaled. He was right.

Choosing history wasn't enough. They had to pick what still mattered.

Her gaze landed on a door marked with a name—the only one not linked to a recorded event.

She understood.

"People remember history, but they forget those who lived it," she said. "This is the only truth that remains."

The moment she spoke, the other doors vanished.

And the correct door opened.

The priestess smiled, but something in her gaze looked… sad.

"You understood," she murmured. "Perhaps we are not lost after all."

She faded into mist.

And they stepped through.

The Knowledge Record was waiting.

Second Test – The Price of Knowledge

They soon found another chamber in the center of the hallway which they entered.

It was silent. Where was its guardian?

A single stone pedestal stood in the center. Upon it—a sealed book.

Eris approached, her fingers itching to touch it. But Ash grabbed her wrist.

"Wait."

The moment he spoke—

A sword struck the ground before them, barely missing her fingers.

A heavy presence filled the room.

A knight stood before them now, his armor dull but his stance unyielding.

"Knowledge is not meant for all hands," he said. "Only those willing to pay the price may claim it."

Ash's breath came slow. "And the price is?"

The knight lifted his hand. A second book appeared beside the first.

One held truth. The other held lies crafted so well they might as well be truth.

He turned to Eris. "Your magic lets you create. What will you do when you realize you have crafted something false?"

Then he turned to Ash. "Your magic lets you bend time. If you could erase knowledge that should not exist, would you?"

Eris felt her stomach turn. This test wasn't about choosing a book. It was about what they would do with knowledge itself.

She had created drawings that felt prophetic, shapes that came from somewhere deep in her mind. What if they weren't real? What if she believed in a false truth?

Ash's power let him feel the weight of time. The urge to undo mistakes must have haunted him constantly. What if some knowledge was never meant to be?

This wasn't a puzzle. It was a choice.

Eris's lips parted. "What happens if we choose wrong?"

The knight's voice was solemn. "Then you will live a life of false wisdom. And that is worse than death."

She exhaled. Think, Eris.

Which book was the real Knowledge Record?

Her gaze flickered to Ash.

He closed his eyes. "We can't just pick one."

As they examined the books, Ash frowned.

"Something's wrong."

Eris looks at him. "What?"

Ash doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he reaches out—not to touch the book, but to hover his fingers just above it at a distance. A strange look crosses his face.

"The weight of time is off." His voice is quiet, almost disbelieving. "Everything here—this place, the stone, the air itself—it's old. But these?"* He motions toward the books. "They're untouched. No history, no decay. It's like they were placed here yesterday."

Eris frowns. "That doesn't make sense. Even if they were preserved—"

"It's not preservation," Ash cuts in. "It's absence." He turns sharply toward the knight. "These books don't belong to this timeline. They don't exist."

That realization makes the illusion crack.

Eris gasped.

The books were not real.

Neither of them.

They were memories. Echoes of knowledge.

"The real record…" she whispered, eyes darting to the knight.

It wasn't on the pedestal. It was him.

The moment the realization hit her—the illusion shattered.

The books turned to dust.

The knight let out a deep, shuddering sigh. His form wavered.

"At last," he murmured. "Someone understands."

Slowly, he reached into his armor—

And pulled out the true Knowledge Record.

A book that had been hidden within him all along.

He pressed it into her hands. "Do not waste it."

And like the priestess, he too began to fade.

"For those lost in time," he whispered. "Remember us."

Then, he was gone.

The trial was over.

The Aftermath

Eris and Ash stood in the now-empty chamber, the weight of the true Knowledge Record heavy in her hands.

Neither spoke for a long moment.

Then, Ash exhaled. "...Finally, we've completed the first part of making it out of here. First easy thing we've faced since we landed here."

Eris turned the book over, tracing its aged cover.

"Easy?" she echoed, voice low. "We were just lucky."

"Yeah, you're right" he sighed.

Finally, they had the Knowledge Record.

But they still had to find the Eternal Embers of Flame. And something told her...

It might not as easy.

"Let's get out of here," Ash muttered.

Eris nodded. Clutching the book tight, they stepped forward—toward whatever awaited them next.

Saria's note

"Coordination is solid. Trust held firm through both trials—an important milestone. But trust built in crisis is easy. Let's see if it lasts when choices aren't life or death."