Soaring from the plain, the city stood, walls draped in colorful banners. The streets were crowded, narrowed by the bustling street market squares. And from afar, the gates welcomed its travelers. Here, the air carried a scent of variety from the fresh bread, spiced meats, and the tang of river running through the heart of the city.
The engine hissed and a plume of steam. A woman stepped out, down from the train. Voices and laughter surrounded her, all blending with the clatter of hooves and wheels at the distance. Merchants called to passerby; guards roamed through the platform.
A figure waited near the station, leaning casually against the wall. He straightened as soon she approached.
"My lady," He said, voice calm with tinge of nervousness behind. "I shall be your chaperone."
Her eyes met his gaze in silence, and nodded. His eyes blinked briefly, confused. He held out his hand. She placed her luggage there, the leather thudding softly against his palm.
"If you need anything. Feel free to ask." He said, courteous, almost rehearsed. "We are honored to have you here, to be visited by the disciple of the Blade Saintess. It's such great honor."
She gave a small nod in response, tightening her grip on the strap of her satchel.
He gestured toward the street beyond the station, "The guildhall is not that far from here. I have arranged everything, lodgings, and I will ensure your needs will be met. Although—" He paused, as though reconsidering his words, "The city is welcoming, yet curious eyes everywhere."
She said in a lower voice, "Curiosity does not bother me."
He glanced at her, brow raised. "Um, pardon me?"
"Curiosity does not bother me," She repeated, louder this time.
He frowned, leaning slightly closer, but it wasn't that he had poor hearing. "Pardon me?"
Her voice was simply so soft, so fragile. He nodded, and fell a step beside her. "Shall we?"
"Are you accustomed to traveling alone?" He asked after a moment, lowering his voice. "Or is this your first time beyond the Sanctum?"
Her gaze swept the streets. Her expression gave nothing away.
"I see," He said softly, almost to himself. "My apologies. I might be probing too much."
She did not speak, but the city seemed to sense her all the same. Every glance she cast, every careful step, drew a subtle attention from those around her.
"We're here, my lady." He said.
The guildhall.
Her eyes fell on the flag, bearing the guild's sigil and the flag fluttering above the entrance, announcing its authority and purpose. Below, the guard stood at the entrance. She followed the chaperone up the wide steps. Her gaze sweep over the building. The door before her, carved with intricate design patterns of sword, shield, and mythical beasts, their surface worn smooth.
Inside, the hall was alive. The members of the guild moved, carrying lpdges, weapons, and anything really.
The chaperone led her to the reception area, where the clerks greeted them briefly with a warm smile before returning to their work. He inclined his head toward the hall "This is where you will be lodged. Please, take your time to acclimate. If you need anything else, the receptionists will be in your need. They would gladly serve you."
She did not respond.
Once he stepped aside, she moved forward. The chaperone led her through the hall. Then stopped before a door with the guild's insignia.
He gestured toward it. "This will be your room," He said. "Everything you require has been prepared. Enjoy your stay and have lovely evening."
She gave a slight nod, nothing more, and kept her silence. He'd met various people in his life. Loud ones. Dangerous ones. Ones who wore their strangeness openly. And this was no different. He simply stepped back with a smile, pushed the door open for her. Then leaving her alone. Once she entered, she closed the door behind her, turning the lock with a soft clock.
The room was modest. Nothing extravagant. It has a single bed sat neatly at the center, a writing desk tucked against the far wall, and a window nearby.
She set her luggage down, examining the room. Next, she moved to the window and looked out. From this height, the streets looked like a web of motion, each alley and square a thread. Her thoughts moved quickly, mapping routes, connecting each and single details.
Once satisfied, she stepped back from the window. Her belongings were arranged. Quietly, she lifted her coat, adjusted her bag.
From her luggage, she took out two slim daggers. She worked without haste. One was strapped high along her left leg, hidden beneath the fall of her clothes. The other followed on the right, secured just as carefully.
She crouched beside the window. From beneath her cloak, she took out a pendant with a delicate spiral of crystal housing a tiny, preserved cochlea. At its tip, a fine metal point. She let it hang. The pendant swayed for a few moments, but nothing happened.
Pleased, she put it back. She tested her step once. Then again. No sound. She gathered her coat. Then moved to the window and eased it open, letting the city's distant noise spill in.
Without hesitation, she stepped onto the sill. She lowered herself over the edge. Moments later, she landed in the narrow space between buildings. Her knees bent to absorb the impact. And yet, not a sound followed.
She moved through the busy, crowded street in silence. She paused at a quiet fountain. Then she moved on, testing other places. Each time, the pendant remained the same. At last, in a shadowed alley, the pendant reacted faintly.
Ahead, Atlas Academy rose above the city, its towers and runed emblem catching her eyes. She paused at the gates, silent and watchful, preparing for the next step.
She jumped through the gates. Her eyes scanned the grounds: the pattern of foot traffic, the placement of guards, the angles of windows and doors. Each detail was a puzzle piece, for the invisible map she was building.
She moved silently along the far side of the courtyard, away from anyone. Shadows of statues, pillars, and archways offered her cover. Every step was measured; every glance cataloged.
Finally, near the main building, she paused. Something caught her eye. She crouched low, silent. She slipped through the Academy doors. Students and faculty moved around her, unaware.
From a small cloth, she pulled out a dark, seamless mirror. She tilted it just so, catching the faint light spilling into the room.
At first, the reflection appeared normal. Then, almost imperceptibly, it lagged behind, a fraction of a second late. She blinked, and the delay remained. Simultaneously, fine fractures appeared, shadows glowing, lights dimming unnaturally.
In narrower halls, the reflection grew abnormally stronger At the end, a long corridor led to a pair of double doors. She stopped in the quiet corridor.
The Academy bustled around her, unaware of the currents hidden beneath reality.
With a careful push, she opened the doors and slipped inside, moving quietly into the rows of towering book shelves.
Finally, she stopped. She took another glance, the reflection began to act independently, moving before she moves. She set her bag down and retrieved a slender rod from within, a dark wood veined with silver. Beside it, a small brass-and-glass container filled with mercury.
Kneeling carefully, she poured the rod's tip into the liquid. Then she began a chant.
The mercury shivered, concentric ripples spreading unnaturally, spiking, bending light across the surface. She wrote sigils with the rod across its surface, murmuring words out her tongue. Slowly, the air around her began to twist and fold inwards.
The walls, the floor, even the shadow leaned, drawn in its reflective surface. The mercury rose in a twisting column that reflected a distorted version of the room. The doors stretched impossibly far, corridors bent at impossible angles, and shadows acted like living beings. To anyone entering, it looked as though the same. But in truth, the original library no longer existed. Its true form was a separate dimension entirely. The mercury did not mimic it, nor created it; it simply folded the surrounding world, creating an impossible illusion. The library had become a prism of illusion, a web of warped space, extended beyond walls—a subdimension.
She took out a small bird from her bag, motionless at first. Snap! Its wings fluttered. She placed it on the ground. It paced nervously, unsure what to do. The small bird trembled, wings fluttering in panic. Then, from the folds of the warped library, it came.
A massive shape emerged. It had limbs that bent and twisted against themselves, dark as the space between stars. Many faces shifted across its body. Eyes blinking in impossible directions, mouths whispering, all wrong, chaotic. The space itself distorted around it, reshaping, stretching, bending the space and time.
The monster's shifting gaze fixed on the bird.
Her hands moved with precision. From beneath her coat, she brought out her daggers. She crouched low, keeping her eyes fixed on the creature. Every muscle coiled like spring, preparing herself.
The bird flapped frantically.
The monster shifted, faces blinking, mouths whispering unintelligible sounds. It moved closer, drawn by the bait.
It lunged. Limbs spiraled, faces twisting, reaching toward the bird. However, she reacted instantly. She rolled low, blades flashing in a single smooth motion, slicing through its nearest limb. The creature recoiled, unnatural sounds spilled from its many mouths.
The mercury reacted, twisting upward in a tighter column, bending the space around it. Each pulse of the rod forced the monster to hesitate.
She darted forward, daggers striking at limbs. Her blades caught the edges, and she leapt aside as one of its many faces lunged past, nearly grazing her right shoulder.
The library's warped geometry shifted with the fight: corridors stretched, shelves bent, and shadows danced, but her focus never wavered. Every swing was measured and precise. It must, or else.
The bird hovered closer to the column, trembling, and the creature's gaze snapped toward it repeatedly. She used the distraction, striking with calculated swiftness, forcing it backward.
But the monster twisted its many limbs snapping. One of its writhing arms lashed out, grabbing her. She was thrown across in the air, sailing toward the opposite end. The bird started to fly frantically, unaware of its imminent fate. Her eyes locked to it mid-flight. With a swift motion, she drew one dagger and hurled it. The blade spun until it struck the bird cleanly, severing its head in a single arc. The creature screeched, probably in anger.
She hit the ground, rolling to absorb the impact. She rose, daggers drawn, landing on her feet in a perfect balance.
After a few rapid exchanges, the monster lashed. "AAAAAH!" Then, without warning, a figure fell from above, landing squarely on the monster's back. The creature roared, twisting violently, and the man rolled off, skidding across the floor.
The man scrambled to his feet, wide-eyed and utterly confused, unaware of the danger he had fallen into.
"A person?" She muttered.
She adjusted her stance. The accidental chaos gave her a brief opening—but the fight was far from over, and the man's presence was a wild card she had to account for.