The Biggest Mystery

The fire crackled in the hearth as the trio caught their breath, the adrenaline from their battle with the Titan bear cub still humming under their skin. Therion lay sprawled on the floor, gingerly pressing a damp cloth to the claw marks raked across his ribs. Lyria sharpened her dagger with rhythmic precision, the sound of steel on whetstone filling the quiet. Ardyn stared into the flames, his golden eyes distant—until suddenly, he sat bolt upright.

"Wait a second," he said, turning to the diary propped against the firewood. "If the Buried Light pathway is all about storing and preserving memories—if Elias could literally back up his soul into this book—then how is the Archivist so bad at it?"

Therion groaned, flopping onto his back. "Oh, fantastic. Ardyn's having an existential crisis about the cosmic horror trying to eat us. Just what I needed after nearly getting mauled to death."

Lyria smirked. "It's a fair question. She's supposed to be this all-knowing, memory-hoarding nightmare, but she keeps losing us. 

The diary's pages ruffled, as if sighing, before ink scrawled in Elias's familiar, exasperated hand:

"Look. Just because you can theoretically organize infinite knowledge doesn't mean you will. Ever met a scholar with a clean desk? Exactly. The Buried Light gives you the capacity for perfect recall—not the common sense to use it."

Therion barked a laugh, then immediately winced. "So what, she's just lazy?"

The diary's next line dripped with sarcasm:

"Oh sure, blame the eldritch horror for not color-coding her apocalypses. Maybe she was busy! Maybe darkflame corruption doesn't come with post-it notes. Maybe she's too busy being a dramatic all-powerful entity to bother with filing systems."

Lyria cut in, wiping bear ichor off her cheek. "Or maybe she's just bad at her job."

The diary paused. Then:

"...Okay, yes. But in her defense, it's hard to focus when you're also a sentient temple. People keep walking through you. Birds nest in your eaves. The draft alone—"

Ardyn pinched the bridge of his nose. "Pathway powers depend on the individual. Got it."

Therion, grinning despite his injuries, propped himself up. "Wait, so—hold on. You're telling me the Archivist isn't actually the Temple? She's just squatting in it?"

The diary flipped a page, as if rolling its eyes.

"Obviously. She's like… a terrible tenant. The Temple is the building; she's the weirdo inside who keeps losing her keys and yelling at the walls. Frankly, the only reason she hasn't been evicted is because no one else wants that lease."

Lyria snorted. "So she's powerful, but she's dumb."

"Bingo," the diary wrote. "You ever met a genius mathematician who couldn't find their own house? Same energy. Lady could rewrite history but once got lost in a broom closet for three centuries. True story."

Therion wheezed. "So she's, what, the absent-minded professor of cosmic horrors?"

"Pretty much," the diary confirmed. "Her 'perfect recall' lets her memorize every grain of sand in the desert, but ask her to navigate a straight hallway? Suddenly she's taking scenic detours through the Void. Last year, she tried to ambush a rival scholar and teleported into his breakfast nook. Awkward for everyone."

Ardyn rubbed his temples. "So her power's only as good as her common sense?"

"Bingo," the diary scrawled, adding in smaller, smug letters: "Also, fun fact—she once tried to 'store' a memory so hard she filed the info into a rock than a parchment. Took her decades to notice. The Covenant gives you the tools, not the brains to use them."

Therion burst out laughing. "Best news all day."

Lyria leaned back, arms crossed. "Explains why she's always late to murder us."

"Exactly!" the diary wrote, then added, as if unable to resist: "Her CV literally says 'Can unravel reality, can't fold a map.' Her references are… questionable."

Ardyn exhaled, half-amused, half-exasperated. "So we're being hunted by the multiverse's most incompetent eldritch librarian."

"Congrats!" the diary replied cheerfully. "On the bright side, if you ever do meet her, just rearrange some furniture. She'll get distracted trying to 'recatalog' it and forget why she's here. Works every time."

Therion grinned. "I like our odds."

Lyria smirked. "Yeah, well. Let's not push our luck."