Chapter 3: Secrets Beneath The Mind's Eye

Verdant Vault - Myreon & Eiloen

The ruin loomed quiet under the press of hanging moss and green shadows. Roots, thick as limbs, crawled across shattered stone and long-forgotten doorframes. Myreon stepped in first, his breath slow, eyes searching the walls like they remembered his presence. Eiloen followed, his gloved fingers tracing the grooves of a collapsed archway.

"Still don't know why we keep coming back," Myreon muttered. "Feels like chasing a whisper."

Eiloen didn't answer right away. His gaze swept across the room, stopping at a broken pillar with unfamiliar etchings. "Because something here is calling us. Even if we don't know what it is yet."

They moved deeper into the ruin, passing empty alcoves and brittle relics. Dust hung like memory in the air.

"The rumors," Myreon said, crouching near the base of a mural half-swallowed by vines. "They say this was a vault. But not of gold. Of knowledge. A place sealed by those who feared what they found."

"Or hid what they became," Eiloen added.

They sifted through fragments—symbols etched in bark, clay tablets scrawled with forgotten tongues, faded constellations drawn in ash. The place didn't yield answers. It offered trails—choices. Every wall a possibility, every corridor a gamble.

"What if," Eiloen said, his voice low, "we've been looking at this wrong. What if it's not a ruin... but a lock?"

Myreon looked at him, eyes narrowing.

"Then we stop playing archaeologists," Eiloen continued. "And start cracking it."

Hours passed in reverent silence, interrupted only by quiet gasps as one discovery led to another. Evidence of life—burned lamps, bowls with dried pigment, a small shoe. They uncovered a passage beneath a cracked dais. The stone gave way with a breath, revealing a spiral staircase swallowed by dark.

They descended.

And there it was.

A cathedral of records. Scrolls stacked from floor to ceiling. Books bound in skin and silk. Maps that pulsed faintly with a light no ink should carry.

Myreon fell to his knees. "Gods..."

Eiloen stepped forward, stunned. "No one's been here in centuries. Maybe longer."

They stood there, not speaking, barely breathing—two wanderers in a library of forgotten truths.

The Guild - The Boy

The main hall buzzed with clattering keys, scratched parchment, and the quiet murmurs of deals being made. No one noticed the boy at first. No taller than a ledger, he slipped between boots and cloaks with wide eyes and dirt-caked hands.

One woman—tired-eyed and ink-stained—saw him pass. She blinked, frowned. "Either I'm hallucinating or I need stronger tea," she muttered.

The boy climbed a staircase, step by step. Each wooden board creaked like it remembered better days. At the top, only one door waited.

He hesitated, then reached.

A hand touched his shoulder.

He gasped and fell back, heart pounding.

A tall man smiled down at him, sharp eyes hidden behind round spectacles. "No need to panic," he said softly. "I'm not here to hurt you."

The boy stared, distrust tightening his brow.

The man offered his hand. After a long pause, the boy accepted.

"What brings you to this door?" the man asked.

"I... wanted to see what was behind it," the boy mumbled.

The man tilted his head. Curiosity, he thought. Always the curious ones.

He pushed open the door.

Nothing. Empty space. No room. No light. Just an expanse.

The boy's shoulders drooped, disappointment heavy.

The man knelt beside him. "Tell you what. I give you this—" he pulled a bright jawbreaker from his coat "—and you promise not to speak of this to anyone."

The boy's eyes lit up. He nodded, popped the candy into his mouth.

They descended the stairs together. At the door, the man waved him off.

Then turned. "Follow him. Find out where he lives. I want a report before midnight."

A cloaked figure in the hall gave a curt nod. "Yes, Gamesmaster."

The Gamesmaster returned to the staircase. Three knocks—left, right, center. The door opened.

Now, it was an office.

The Keeper stood behind the desk, her gaze lost in the window's haze.

"The boy's gone?" she asked.

"Yes."

She nodded. "Your hunch was right. Two ruins. Deciphered."

The Gamesmaster raised a brow. "Already?"

"One in the South. One in the Fold. Our eyes confirm it."

He exhaled, almost a laugh. "Then it's only a matter of time. The world's secrets... its lost history... finally within reach."

She didn't answer.

He smiled. "And they've no idea they're holding the key."