The Forbidden Archive

"Again," King Tiberius commanded, his voice echoing across the private training arena.

Adam, now ten years old, wiped sweat from his brow and resumed his stance. Three years had passed since the incident with the Probability Nexus—three years of intensified training, increased scrutiny, and careful navigation of court politics.

The disappearance of Archmage Levian's gift had raised questions, but Adam's innocent explanation—that it had simply dissolved after use, as magical artifacts sometimes did—had been accepted, if not entirely believed.

Now he faced his father in their weekly training session, a tradition that had never existed in his first life. Another divergence, this one significant. In his original timeline, King Tiberius had trained only Marcus personally, delegating Adam's education entirely to tutors.

"Focus, Adam," the king instructed, his golden armor gleaming in the morning light. "Crimson energy is not just about destruction. It transforms. Reshapes. Creates through change."

Adam nodded, concentrating on the stone block placed between them. His task was to transmute its properties—making the solid stone temporarily malleable—without destroying it. A precision exercise that required finesse rather than raw power.

He reached for the Crimson thread of the Spectrum, feeling it respond eagerly to his call. Too eagerly. His affinity had grown exponentially in this second life, his control now far exceeding what he had achieved at this age previously.

The stone began to glow, its edges softening as molecular bonds loosened under his influence. Adam maintained careful pressure, neither too much nor too little, transforming the rigid structure without compromising its integrity.

Within moments, the stone block flowed like thick honey, reshaping itself into a perfect sphere before resolidifying as Adam gradually withdrew his influence.

King Tiberius studied the result with narrowed eyes. "Impressive control," he acknowledged. "But I sense you're still holding back."

Adam met his father's gaze steadily. "I'm being careful, Father. Crimson energy can be volatile."

"Indeed." The king circled the transformed stone. "Yet caution can become limitation if embraced too tightly. Sometimes, Adam, we must risk volatility to achieve true mastery."

The words surprised him. In his first life, his tutors had preached only restraint and control, especially for one with his affinity and the dreaded Crossmark. That approach had eventually driven him to seek forbidden knowledge, desperate to explore the full extent of his abilities.

Was his father actually encouraging him to push boundaries?

"I understand," Adam replied carefully.

The king gestured to a second, larger stone block. "Show me what you're truly capable of. No restraints."

A test. But of what? His power, or his willingness to reveal it?

[CAUTION ADVISED]

[PARTIAL DEMONSTRATION RECOMMENDED]

Adam considered the Genesis System's suggestion. Yes—reveal enough to impress, but not enough to alarm. A carefully calibrated display of talent.

He stepped forward, focusing on the new target. This time, instead of gradually transmuting the entire stone, he traced precise lines of Crimson energy across its surface, creating a network of controlled transformations.

The stone began to reshape along these lines, sections folding and flowing like paper rather than rock, until it formed an intricate geometric structure composed of interlocking planes and angles—a physical representation of the Spectrum's seven-fold symmetry.

"The Architect's Puzzle," King Tiberius breathed, recognizing the complex form. "Where did you learn that design?"

In truth, Adam had created it during his studies of Void geometry in his previous life—a key to certain forbidden rituals. But here, rendered in stone rather than energy, it appeared merely as an academically impressive demonstration.

"I found a reference in an old text," Adam said, the half-truth coming easily. "I've been practicing the visualization."

The king circled the structure, studying it from all angles. "This level of precision at your age..." He shook his head slightly. "You continue to surprise me, Adam."

There was pride in his father's voice, but something else too. Concern? Calculation? Adam couldn't quite identify it.

"Thank you, Father," he said, bowing his head respectfully.

King Tiberius placed a hand on Adam's shoulder—a gesture of affection he had rarely offered in the previous timeline. "You are dismissed for today. I believe Magister Valen is waiting for your afternoon lesson."

Adam nodded and turned to leave, but his father's voice stopped him at the arena entrance.

"Adam."

He turned back. "Yes, Father?"

The king's expression was unreadable. "Power without purpose becomes tyranny. Remember that."

A warning disguised as wisdom. Even now, with all his careful maneuvering, his father still harbored suspicions about the path he might take.

"I will, Father," Adam promised, and meant it—though perhaps not in the way the king intended.

*

*

*

The palace library occupied the entire west wing of the third floor, a vast repository of knowledge collected over centuries. But Adam's destination lay beyond the public stacks, behind a door warded with subtle enchantments designed to discourage casual visitors.

The Restricted Archives.

In his first life, he hadn't discovered this section until his fourteenth year, and even then, only through coercion of a junior archivist. This time, he had earned legitimate access through his diligent studies and careful cultivation of scholarly relationships.

"Prince Adam," Archivist Lorenar greeted him with a respectful nod. The elderly woman was responsible for maintaining the more sensitive texts in the royal collection. "Magister Valen informed me you would be coming."

"Thank you for accommodating my research, Archivist," Adam replied, affecting the earnest demeanor that had served him well. "The Magister believes I'm ready to study the theoretical underpinnings of spectrum manipulation."

"Indeed." Lorenar led him through the warded door into a circular chamber lined with shelves of leather-bound tomes and crystal data repositories. "You've quite impressed him with your methodical approach. Most young mages your age are more interested in practical applications than theory."

Adam allowed himself a small smile. "I find that understanding the 'why' often improves the 'how'."

Lorenar chuckled approvingly. "A mature perspective." She gestured to a reading table at the center of the room. "You may use anything on these three shelves. The materials beyond require specific authorization."

Adam bowed his head in acknowledgment, watching as the archivist retreated to her desk near the entrance. In his previous life, he would have immediately sought ways to circumvent such restrictions. Now, patience was his strategy.

He selected several tomes on spectrum theory, arranging them on the table to create the appearance of legitimate research. It wasn't entirely a pretense—the foundations of magical theory had been one area where his self-directed education had left gaps that had later proven problematic.

For over an hour, he read methodically, taking careful notes and occasionally asking Lorenar appropriately insightful questions that cemented his image as a dedicated scholar.

Only when she left briefly to retrieve a reference text from the main library did Adam make his move.

Three shelves to the right, behind a shimmer of protective wards, sat a slim volume bound in night-blue leather: "Convergent Energies: Theoretical Applications of Cross-Spectrum Manipulation" by Archmage Seravain. In his first life, this text had been his introduction to the possibilities of combining different energies of the Spectrum—the foundation that had eventually led him to Void research.

The wards were designed to alert Lorenar if breached. But Adam had spent years studying the palace's security measures in both lifetimes.

He didn't need to touch the book. Not yet.

Instead, he activated his partially unlocked Fate Perception, focusing specifically on the text. Fragmentary images flickered across his vision:

Himself, reading the book in secret, discovering the passage about energy convergence points.

A diagram showing the intersection of Crimson and Obsidian energies creating a temporary rift.

A specific page number: 147.

Adam blinked, returning to the present moment. That was enough. He knew what to look for now, and where. Later, he could request that specific text through proper channels, citing research that would justify his interest.

Lorenar returned, finding him exactly as she had left him, absorbed in legitimate study.

"Finding what you need, Your Highness?" she asked.

"Almost," Adam replied, looking up with a thoughtful expression. "Archivist Lorenar, I've been reading about spectrum convergence theory. Would Archmage Seravain's text be available to me? I believe it might bridge some gaps in my understanding."

The old woman looked surprised. "That's... an advanced text, Prince Adam. Usually reserved for third-circle mages or higher."

"Magister Valen has been encouraging me to challenge myself," Adam said, the perfect blend of respectful and determined. "He believes my theoretical understanding is advancing more quickly than my practical training."

Lorenar considered him for a long moment. "I would need to confirm with your tutor first. But if he approves... yes, I could make it available under supervised study conditions."

"That would be most appreciated," Adam said, inclining his head gratefully. "I understand the need for caution with such knowledge."

As he gathered his notes and prepared to leave, Adam felt a surge of satisfaction. In his previous life, he had stolen forbidden knowledge out of desperation and resentment, often missing crucial context in his haste. This methodical approach would give him a stronger foundation—and avoid the errors that had eventually led to his downfall.

Yet as he left the Restricted Archives, a troubling thought nagged at him. In seeking to avoid his previous mistakes, was he simply finding more sophisticated paths to the same destination? His goals remained largely unchanged—power, knowledge, mastery. Only his methods had evolved.

The Genesis System had shown him multiple possible futures, including ones where he was not the villain. But desiring an alternate outcome wasn't the same as deserving one.

As Adam descended the spiral staircase from the library, he nearly collided with Marcus, who was bounding up the steps two at a time.

"There you are!" his twin exclaimed, green eyes bright with excitement. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Adam composed his features, shifting from contemplation to casual interest. "What is it?"

"Father's approved our participation in the Summer Tournament!" Marcus announced. "We're allowed to enter the junior division. It's the first time we'll represent House Morningstar publicly."

The Summer Tournament. Adam had forgotten about that event. In his original timeline, only Marcus had participated, winning acclaim while Adam remained in seclusion, ostensibly focusing on his studies but actually experimenting with forbidden techniques.

"Both of us?" Adam confirmed, genuinely surprised by this divergence.

"Of course both of us," Marcus replied, as if it were obvious. "We'll compete in separate categories—you in arcane demonstration, me in combat—but we'll both be there." He grinned. "The court will finally see what we can do."

Public recognition. Something Adam had craved in his first life but had been largely denied. Now it was being offered freely—another consequence of his more measured approach this time around.

"When?" he asked, already calculating how this might advance his plans.

"Three weeks from now," Marcus said. "We'll have special training sessions until then." He hesitated, then added, "Father says you're making remarkable progress. He thinks you might actually win your division."

The genuine pride in Marcus's voice was... disconcerting. In his previous life, by age ten, their relationship had already cooled significantly—Marcus growing increasingly uncomfortable with Adam's intensity and isolation.

This Marcus looked at him with admiration rather than wariness. With excitement about their shared future rather than concern.

[RELATIONSHIP STATUS: MARCUS MORNINGSTAR]

[ORIGINAL TIMELINE: DETERIORATING]

[CURRENT TIMELINE: POSITIVE/STRENGTHENING]

[WARNING: EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENT RISK]

The Genesis System's assessment appeared momentarily in Adam's vision. Emotional attachment risk? Was it warning him against growing closer to his brother?

Or was it warning him that such closeness might compromise his long-term goals?

"We should celebrate," Marcus suggested, oblivious to Adam's internal dialogue. "Race you to the kitchens? Cook Marlow made sweetberry tarts for dinner, but I know where he hides the extras."

Another choice point. Another small divergence opportunity.

In his first life, Adam had increasingly rejected such childish pursuits, seeing them as beneath him. That rejection had wounded Marcus, driving the first wedges between them.

"You'll lose," Adam said, echoing his words from the equinox celebration years earlier. "Unless you use your Emerald affinity to cheat."

"It's not cheating if it's part of who I am," Marcus laughed, already turning to dash down the stairs. "Last one there eats the burnt ones!"

Adam followed, allowing himself to match his brother's pace rather than holding back. It was strategic, he told himself. Maintaining this bond gave him access and influence he hadn't possessed before.

It wasn't because he enjoyed the flash of delight in his twin's eyes when they raced side by side, matched in speed if not in destiny.

That would be weakness. And Adam Morningstar was not weak.

Not in this life, nor in any other.