The soft creak of shifting wood and the distant trill of birdsong slipped in through the half-shuttered windows. Morning light poured into the tavern like golden fog, hazy and warm, casting long beams across the worn tables and the dusty floor. One of those beams fell directly onto Zay's face, bright and unrelenting. His eyes twitched, then slowly opened, squinting against the glare.
He raised one gloved hand to shield himself from the sun, his fingers curling slightly in irritation. The other hand rested limply against the sticky wood of the table where he'd passed out hours ago. His knuckles ached faintly. With a quiet breath, he sat up, the bench beneath him groaning with the movement.
"...Damn."
His voice rasped out dry and low, barely audible. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes flicked around the room. Empty bottles. Scattered chairs. A few uneaten plates of food left out overnight. And sprawled across the tavern floor, slumped over tables and benches, were eight other bodies—men and women, cloaked and armored, some snoring softly, others deathly still in their sleep. One of them mumbled in their sleep, hugging an empty tankard like a child would a doll.
Zay stared at them for a long moment. None of them stirred.
He shifted his legs off the bench and stood, stretching slightly. His shoulders popped. The familiar weight of Midnight Fangs clung to his hands like a second skin—he hadn't even removed them in his sleep. He blinked slowly, then sighed.
'I shouldn't have let myself fall asleep here,' he muttered to himself. 'Pretty damn careless of me. The kind of mistake that gets people killed.'
The scent of dried alcohol and burnt bread clung to the air, thick and sour. He moved through it like a ghost, stepping over an overturned stool, past a slumped mercenary with a dagger still strapped to his leg.
Outside, the tavern doors gave a soft creak as he pushed them open.
The light hit him harder now. The sky was an ocean of pale blue streaked with clouds, and the wind was crisp, fresh, and far too cheerful for how he felt.
He stopped at the edge of the wooden porch, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the waking city beyond. Merchants were beginning to open their stalls. Children laughed somewhere he couldn't see. The breeze carried the scent of riverwater and roasted fruit.
Zay reached into the folds of his coat and retrieved the key that Selene had entrusted to him—the key to the Archives of Aura. He exhaled slowly through his nose, his breath forming a faint mist in the morning air.
'I should return this today... before I forget'.
He clenched his fingers around the key, the metal cool and solid in his hand, and slipped it back into his coat before setting off toward the grand castle that loomed in the distance.
The road before him gradually narrowed, the dark stone beneath his boots shimmering in the soft morning light. His eyes darted around, taking in the scene: buildings with rain-streaked windows and roofs still slick with the remnants of a passing storm. The road was dotted with pools of water, creating small puddles that glistened under the sun's rays. Children rushed from nearby buildings, their laughter ringing out as they leapt into the puddles, their small feet splashing carelessly in the shallow water. Above, birds swooped through the air, their songs echoing through the town as they darted over rooftops and between the narrow streets.
The crisp scent of fresh roses, ripe fruit, and the earthy tang of petrichor lingered in the air, the familiar aroma grounding him as he walked. The rain had passed, leaving behind a calmness that seemed to seep into the very stones beneath his feet. Upon reaching the grand staircase leading to the castle, he carefully raised one leg after the other, mindful of the slippery wetness that clung to the ground. His boots made little sound as he ascended, each step taken with deliberate caution.
At the top of the stairs, Zay stood before the colossal door made of aura-fused wood, its grain faintly glowing, interwoven with intricate runes that pulsed with protective energy. He raised his hand and knocked firmly on the door, the sound echoing in the stillness. Moments later, the door swung open.
The same guard, clad in ornate silver armor, stood on the other side, motioning for Zay to enter. It was as if the guard had been expecting him today.
"So, did you know I was coming?" Zay asked, his tone light, though there was an edge of curiosity in his voice.
The guard didn't respond, continuing his brisk pace down the corridor. Zay followed, his footsteps silent as they walked through the grand hall and into the vast chamber where the throne awaited. Zay's gaze shifted toward the figure sitting before him: Selene. Her golden eyes met his, steady and piercing.
Zay walked toward her with deliberate steps, his thoughts a whirlwind of possibilities. When he reached her, he bowed deeply before kneeling.
As his hand reached into his coat, the guards positioned along the walls stiffened, their hands brushing the hilts of their swords. They wanted him to make a mistake so they would have a legal reason to kill him where he stood. But Zay moved slowly, his actions controlled. He pulled the key from his coat and held it aloft, a silent gesture of surrender to the moment.
"I take it you're done with the Archives of Aura?" Selene's voice was soft, almost soothing, but her words carried an underlying weight.
"Yes, Your Highness. My brother and I have learned much about aura... thank you for granting us access to such knowledge." Zay's lips curled into a faint smirk, his hair falling to obscure his face from view.
Selene tilted her head slightly, her golden eyes glimmering with intrigue. "Tell me... what all did you learn about? I'm curious."
Zay's smirk faltered as the weight of her words settled in.
'I didn't expect… this question'.
The moment stretched before him, and he took a steadying breath, carefully selecting his words.
The scent of blueberries and roses once again filled the chamber, a breeze entered through the windows above. Zay inhaled, grounding himself in the air, before answering.
"Aura is a type of energy that all Arbiters require to wield their Seals, Contracts, and their Resonance Echos. An Aura Core is tied to an Arbiter's soul... and it reflects the remaining aura available when viewed through the Resonance Lens. There are various ranks for an Aura Core, from 'Sealed' to 'Empyrean,'" Zay said, his voice steady.
He paused for a moment, choosing his next words carefully.
"Beasts within the sequences also possess cores, though they are different. They are called Monster Cores. These range from 'Shackled' to 'Primordial' and can even reach 'Empyrean' after the rank of 'Abyssal' is achieved. The route a beast chooses determines its destiny—either transforming into a spirit-bound entity or continuing down a path of destruction."
He glanced up at Selene, watching her reaction. Her expression remained unreadable, her gaze fixed on him, waiting for more. Zay's brow furrowed slightly, and a subtle unease crept into his thoughts.
'Is this not enough?'
A door groaned in the far corner of the room, and the smell of roses and blueberries faded, lingering for only a few moments longer. The air grew still once more.
"There are countless Sequences that can form," Zay continued, his voice steadying, gaining confidence with each word. "But most of the time, the Resonance Lens selects a challenge it deems suitable for the Arbiter—and then generates the stage accordingly."
Selene's expression shifted, her golden eyes narrowing with barely contained annoyance. She clearly found this information lacking, and Zay smirked, knowing he had to dig deeper.
'Fine.'
"There are special cases called 'Shattered Sequences,'" he began, his tone becoming more deliberate. "And beyond the fifteenth level of a seal or contract, there is a barrier that no one has been able to surpass. But there was one individual in history who achieved it—his name was Jasper Archives. He reached the impossible level of nineteen. Jasper was of a race called the Elyscar, now extinct."
Zay's voice took on a more somber note. "The Elyscar were a race driven by an insatiable thirst for knowledge. They craved understanding to such an extent that their intellect eventually led to their downfall. Their minds grew too vast for their limited lifespans, and they perished—either by their own hands or through the toll of time. Jasper Archives, while he didn't seek as much knowledge as the others of his race, still met the same fate, dying at the age of forty, his life cut short by the Elyscar's inevitable end."
As he finished, Zay looked up at Selene, surprised to see a smile curling at the edges of her lips, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. She nodded once, approvingly.
"Bring me the key," she commanded, her voice sharp and final.
Zay rose slowly, his expression neutral, and walked toward her. He held the key in his hand and placed it gently into her outstretched palm, her white-gloved fingers closing around it with a soft motion.