Echoes of the First Seven
(Part I — The Grand Library)
Night had gently settled over Spēju Akadēmija.
Unlike its bustling mornings and lively afternoons, the academy beneath the veil of twilight transformed into an entirely different world. The once vibrant grounds fell into a tranquil silence, broken only by the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional whisper of the night breeze weaving through ancient stone corridors. Lanterns flickered softly along winding pathways, their warm golden glow pushing back the darkness just enough to illuminate the academy's timeless beauty.
Above, the solemn night sky stretched endlessly across the horizon, adorned with countless stars that shimmered like scattered diamonds upon a sea of velvet. Their gentle radiance, together with the pale moonlight, draped the academy in a comforting embrace, as though the heavens themselves had laid a soft blanket over every rooftop and tower.
It was the kind of night that lulled weary souls into peaceful slumber, rocking the students to sleep with nature's quiet lullaby. Yet beneath that serene stillness, Spēju Akadēmija remained awake in its own mysterious way. Ancient walls seemed to breathe with secrets, forgotten corridors whispered stories of the past, and shadows lingered where moonlight dared not reach, patiently waiting for the next page of history to be written.
The brilliant white towers that dominated the landscape during the day now shimmered beneath the pale glow of enchanted moonstones embedded into their walls. Floating lanterns drifted silently above the stone pathways like wandering fireflies, illuminating the campus with soft blue light instead of warm flames.
A cool breeze rustled through the leaves of the ancient silver oaks lining the courtyards. Somewhere in the distance, the faint hoot of an owl echoed through the quiet night.
Students hurried along the pathways in small groups. Some returned to their dormitories before curfew. Others gathered beneath gazebos, reviewing lessons from the day or exchanging theories about tomorrow's Sorting Evaluation.
Darkus, however, had no intention of returning just yet.
Curiosity had won.
"... The Grand Library." He quietly read the elegant words engraved upon the massive archway before him.
Unlike the other buildings within the academy, the library possessed no grandeur meant to impress visitors.
Instead, it inspired reverence.
Its walls were built from ancient white marble stained by centuries of wind and rain.
Massive stained-glass windows stretched nearly from floor to ceiling, depicting scenes of scholars recording history beneath constellations that no longer existed.
The enormous double doors were carved from black oak, their surfaces engraved with countless runes that glowed faintly whenever someone approached.
The moment Darkus stepped inside... A subtle warmth embraced him.
The scent of old parchment... Leather-bound books... Fresh ink... And polished cedar shelves filled the air.
It was the unmistakable scent of knowledge.
His eyes slowly widened.
The library... was breathtaking.
Towering bookshelves reached toward a ceiling so high it disappeared into darkness.
Countless staircases twisted around the shelves like vines, connecting one level to another in ways that seemed to defy logic.
Books floated lazily through the air inside transparent spheres of mana, gently gliding toward students who requested them before returning to their proper places on their own.
Small crystal orbs hovered overhead, bathing every aisle in soft golden light that never flickered.
There wasn't a single sound.
Not because no one was present.
But because the library itself seemed to swallow every unnecessary noise.
Even footsteps became little more than whispers.
Darkus unconsciously smiled.
"... Now this..." He smiled, "...is a library."
"You really like books, don't you?"
A familiar cheerful voice drifted beside him.
Darkus sighed without looking.
"... Why are you here?"
Laima stood beside him with her usual bright smile, her hands clasped behind her back as she leisurely rocked from heel to toe.
"I followed you."
"I noticed."
"I thought you'd be lonely."
"I wasn't."
"You would've been."
"..."
Darkus looked at her.
"... Do you even read?"
She tilted her head thoughtfully.
"Sometimes."
"... Sometimes?"
"When the pictures are nice."
Darkus blinked.
"... There are no pictures."
"There aren't?"
She looked genuinely disappointed.
"... Aw."
Darkus quietly wondered if bringing her here had been a terrible idea.
Or perhaps... No.
She had simply followed him. Without invitation.
As usual.
xx—xx—xx
Near the center of the library stood an enormous circular desk carved from dark walnut.
Behind it sat an elderly librarian.
Unlike the professors, he wore simple gray robes without any insignias.
His silver hair reached well past his shoulders, tied neatly behind his back.
A pair of round spectacles rested upon the bridge of his nose as he carefully repaired an ancient manuscript using a feather pen that glowed with pale blue mana.
He never looked up.
Yet...
"...History Section."
His calm voice echoed through the quiet library.
Darkus stopped.
"...Excuse me?"
"The books you're looking for."
The old man slowly turned another page.
"Third Floor. West Wing. Shelf Forty-Nine."
Darkus exchanged a glance with Laima.
"... How did he know?"
The librarian smiled faintly.
"...Everyone who walks into this library is searching for something," the librarian said, slowly lifting his gaze toward them. His voice was calm, yet it carried a strange weight, as though every word had been spoken countless times before.
He let the silence linger for a moment before continuing.
"...Books merely help them find it."
His eyes drifted across the endless shelves lining the vast library.
"Some seek knowledge. Others search for answers. A few come hoping to uncover the truth..." A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "...And there are those who don't yet realize what they've truly lost until they begin searching for it."
The library fell silent once more, leaving only the quiet rustling of pages and the distant ticking of an unseen clock.
Darkus wasn't entirely sure what that meant. Still... He politely bowed.
"Thank you."
The librarian offered no reply.
He simply continued restoring the ancient pages as though nothing had happened.
≈≈≈≈≈
The third floor proved even quieter than the first.
Rows upon rows of towering shelves stretched farther than Darkus could see. Small ladders glided silently along rails whenever a reader reached for a higher book. Some books opened by themselves before closing again moments later. Others quietly shifted positions whenever someone wasn't looking.
Darkus chose not to question it.
This was Spēju Akadēmija.
He was beginning to accept that ordinary logic had very little authority here.
Eventually, he arrived at Shelf Forty-Nine.
An inscription above it read:
FOUNDATION OF THE ACADEMY
He carefully selected several volumes.
A Chronicle of Spēju Akadēmija
The Seven Founders
History of the Sorting Evaluation
Records of the First Generation
Laima, meanwhile... had already claimed a nearby table.
She rested her chin upon both hands.
"I'm bored."
"You've been here three minutes."
"It felt longer."
Darkus placed the books upon the table.
"You don't have to stay."
"I know."
"... Then why are you staying?"
She smiled.
"I like your company."
Darkus paused.
"... That's unexpected."
"So was meeting you."
Before he could answer...
She stretched lazily.
"... Wake me up later."
"Huh?"
Without another word...
Laima rested her head upon folded arms.
Within less than a minute, she was asleep.
Darkus stared.
"... Seriously?"
A soft snore answered him.
He sighed.
"... Unbelievable."
Yet, be couldn't help smiling.
xx—xx—xx
Darkus opened the first book.
Its yellowed pages were surprisingly well preserved despite their age.
"Spēju Akadēmija predates every surviving nation upon the continent." He read.
"Though many kingdoms claim to have founded the Academy, historical evidence suggests the Academy already existed centuries before those kingdoms themselves."
Darkus turned another page.
Wars.
Empires.
Calamities.
Entire civilizations had risen and fallen.
Yet the Academy endured.
Always standing.
Always watching.
The next volume described the Sorting Evaluation.
"The Evaluation is not an examination of knowledge. Nor strength. Nor magical capacity..."
"The Seven Altars resonate with the essence carried within every soul. No individual may influence the outcome. The Academy merely witnesses the decision."
Darkus frowned.
"... Essence?"
The explanation abruptly ended there.
Almost... Intentionally.
He reached for another volume.
The Seven Founders.
The opening pages described six individuals in remarkable detail.
The First Founder, Master of Valor.
The Second, Keeper of Wisdom.
The Third, Bearer of Judgment.
The Fourth, Guardian of Vitality.
The Fifth, Father of Creation.
The Sixth, Warden of the Veil.
Each portrait was accompanied by names, accomplishments and carefully recorded histories.
Darkus continued turning pages.
Until... The Seventh.
He stopped.
The page... Was blank. Not torn. Not damaged. Simply Blank.
Only one sentence appeared at the bottom.
"The Seventh Founder shall remain unnamed."
Darkus frowned.
"... That's it?"
No portrait. No history. No explanation. Only emptiness.
He flipped backward. Forward. Nothing.
Almost as though someone had deliberately erased every trace of the final Founder.
He quietly glanced toward the enormous statue he had seen during the Opening Ceremony.
The faceless one.
"... So it wasn't damaged..." he said, bewildered, "It was meant to be that way."
A strange chill crept across his spine.
Why erase only one Founder? And why leave behind evidence that someone had been erased?
His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet mumble.
"... Don't..."
Darkus looked toward Laima.
She shifted slightly in her sleep.
"... Don't go..."
Her brows knitted together.
For the first time... Her sleeping face looked... Lonely.
Darkus closed the book.
Despite everything, he couldn't deny one thing. Having Laima nearby wasn't entirely bad.
In fact, It made the library strangely peaceful.
No curious students approached his table. No one interrupted him.
Whenever someone noticed the infamous "Bad News" sleeping there, they quietly chose another section instead.
He let out a quiet chuckle.
"... I suppose you're useful after all."
Laima continued sleeping peacefully.
Outside, the distant academy bell chimed once.
Curfew.
Darkus carefully returned every book to its proper shelf. Each volume gently floated from his hands, gliding back into place as though guided by invisible librarians.
When he returned Laima remained fast asleep.
"... Laima."
No response.
He sighed.
"... Laima."
Still nothing.
Finally, he lightly tapped the top of her head with a rolled piece of parchment.
"... Ow..."
She slowly lifted her head, blinking sleepily.
"... Did I fall asleep?"
"... For nearly two hours."
She stretched with a yawn.
"... Best nap ever."
Darkus simply shook his head.
"Come on."
"It's almost curfew."
Together, they stepped out into the moonlit courtyard.
The Academy had grown almost silent. Only the gentle glow of floating lanterns accompanied their footsteps as they walked toward the dormitory district.
When they reached the crossroads separating the boys' and girls' residences...
They stopped.
Laima smiled.
"... See you tomorrow."
Darkus nodded.
"... Tomorrow."
She waved before skipping down the eastern path, disappearing into the silver-blue glow of the lanterns.
Darkus watched until she vanished from sight.
Then he turned toward his own dormitory.
Tomorrow...
The Sorting Evaluation would finally begin.
And somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling that the blank page in the history book...
Was only the beginning of a much larger mystery.