My first glimpse of Noctis’s Library was a plunge into immensity. Towering shelves, crafted from dark, polished wood, stretched towards the high, vaulted ceiling, each crammed with leather-bound volumes of varying sizes and ages. The air hung heavy with the rich, comforting aroma of aged paper and ink. Ornate, multi-tiered chandeliers, their crystal droplets catching and refracting the soft glow from numerous flickering candles, cast dancing patterns of light across the vast room.

Sunlight streamed in through magnificent floor-to-ceiling windows, their panes crafted with delicate leadwork, illuminating dust motes dancing in the golden rays and highlighting the worn spines of countless stories. Beneath this interplay of natural and artificial luminescence sat a massive rectangular table of dark oak. Its sturdy legs were adorned with deeply carved depictions of twisting vines and mythical beasts, a testament to true craftsmanship.

The polished surface of the table was a landscape of its own, scattered with rolled and tied scrolls, their parchment yellowed with time and secured with faded ribbons. Amongst this disarray lay Finnian’s well-worn notebook, its leather cover softened with use and its pages likely filled with his meticulous script and observations. What struck me as particularly unusual, however, was Finnian himself. Seated at the head of the table, a position that seemed to lend him an uncharacteristic air of command, he was a far cry from the Finnian I was accustomed to. Gone was the familiar sheepishness, the hesitant glances and quiet demeanor. Instead, his shoulders were squared, his eyes direct and focused on the scrolls before him, and a subtle furrow in his brow suggested deep concentration. This transformation, set against the backdrop of the imposing library, was a stark and intriguing contrast to his everyday self.

Finnian looked up from the intricate diagrams and notes that covered the open pages of his notebook. His gaze swept across us. “Looks like everyone is here,” he stated, his tone a touch more resonant than I was used to hearing. Without waiting for a response, his attention returned to his work, his fingers gently turning back several thin, brittle pages.

“So,” he began, his voice now carrying a note of scholarly authority as he pushed his round glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “I’ve gathered the best information I can with the resources available to me.” He gestured vaguely to the scattered scrolls and his notebook. Every eye in the room was fixed on him. I could feel my own heart quicken, a sense of excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

Finnian paused for a moment, his eyes sweeping over his notes once more before meeting mine and then the others. “So what I’ve found…” he continued, his voice dropping slightly, lending an air of mystery to his words, “…is history. Or perhaps more accurately, stories. Tales that have been lost for a long time. Forgotten.”

Finnian’s words hung in the air, the weight of forgotten ages settling upon us. He cleared his throat slightly before proceeding, his gaze fixed on his notes as if the ancient script held him captive.

“A very long time ago,” he began, his tone taking on a hushed, almost reverent quality, “our world was a vastly different place. It was a time shrouded in a perpetual twilight, a world choked by an oppressive gloom, a cold stillness that seemed to seep into one’s bones. And within this shadow,” he paused, his eyes flicking up to meet ours, a hint of unease in their depths, “horrors roamed everywhere. Terrors our minds struggled to fully grasp now.”

He adjusted his glasses again, his fingers tracing a line in his notebook. “But there was one entity,” he emphasized, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “that stood out even amongst that terrifying multitude. Its name was K’tthar.” The name itself seemed to carry a chill, a resonance of ancient dread.

“K’tthar, was an entity of immense power—a force unlike anything seen before.” He leaned forward slightly. “The texts I’ve deciphered even suggest it could wield mana.”

“Mana?” Adrix interjected, his brow furrowed. “Like a mage? But in a… creature of that nature?”

Finnian nodded gravely. “Indeed. A terrifying prospect.” My mouth practically dropped open. Noctis’s hand instinctively tightened on the hilt of his blade, an almost imperceptible movement. Liora went very still, her eyes wide. Mana-wielding creatures? That was unheard of, I thought. Finnian continued, “It was almost human in appearance, or at least a twisted mockery of it. And incredibly, it could even speak, possessing a cunning intellect.”

He looked up again, his gaze sweeping across our faces, ensuring we understood the gravity of his words. “Everywhere K’tthar went, darkness followed. Not just the absence of light, but a tangible, suffocating presence that extinguished any flicker of hope. Even the brave souls who attempted to establish towns, to build beacons against the encroaching murk, found their efforts swallowed by K’tthar’s shadow. The malevolent beings now lurking in our world’s deepest corners—they were its thralls. Loyal servants, obeying its every command without question. K’tthar was no mere monster; it was a harbinger of endless night, a unifying force for all terrors of that ancient age.”

Finnian continued, his finger still tracing the faded script in his notebook. “The accounts become fragmented here, shrouded in the mists of time. They are vague on the specifics, the details lost to the ages. But eventually,” he looked up, a glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes, “there were people. Scattered at first, no doubt, pockets of resilience in the overwhelming darkness. But somehow, against all odds, they were able to gather. To find each other. To draw up a strength they never knew they possessed in the face of such unimaginable terror.”

He paused, letting the weight of their courage sink in. “And they confronted it. They faced K’tthar. The texts speak of immense struggle, of sacrifices made, of a desperate fight against the encroaching night. But ultimately,” Finnian’s voice gained a note of triumph, “they subdued it. They managed to overpower that creature of vast might. And not just defeat it, but seal it away. For good. The ancient texts leave no doubt on this. K’tthar was contained, locked away by what some fragments refer to as the ‘Star-crowned Heirs,’ so that its darkness could never again plague the world.”

Finnian nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face. “At least, that’s what the old stories recount,” he amended, a hint of doubt creeping into his tone. Then, he flipped back even further in his worn notebook, his brow furrowing in concentration. “The book that Lyra had given…” he trailed off, his gaze distant for a moment before returning to the page. “It seems to add another layer to what I’ve pieced together here. I just wish I still had that volume.”

A wave of sadness washed over me, a familiar pang of regret twisting in my gut. Kaelen. The memory of his betrayal, his insidious charm that had fooled us all, resurfaced with painful clarity. Trusting him had been a grave mistake, one that had cost us dearly, including the amulet.

Finnian’s face fell, a look of genuine regret washing over him as he seemed to realize his words had inadvertently struck a raw nerve. I offered him a weak smile and a nod, trying to convey that it was alright, urging him to continue.

Clearing his throat softly, Finnian refocused on his notes. “As I was saying,” he resumed, his voice regaining its earlier scholarly tone, “this other text stated that throughout the ages, there have been individuals… people who have delved into dark magic, attempting to control the denizens of the dark. But it seems,” he paused, looking up with a troubled expression, “that no one has ever truly been able to wield them. At least, not with any real success… until recently, perhaps.”

He leaned forward, his gaze intense. “I believe the attacks we’re witnessing are calculated. These entities… they’re not acting how they usually would. The ones in Glens Crossing, the way they moved, their coordination… and the ones we faced the other night. It wasn’t the mindless aggression we’ve come to expect. There’s a purposefulness to their actions, a strategy that suggests they are being directed.”

Adrix, who had been listening intently, leaned forward, his brow furrowed in thought. “And the amulet,” he added, his eyes meeting mine. “The one embedded in that odd beast we fought. It was undeniably enveloped in dark magic. And we are missing that as well.” He paused, his voice laced with concern. “Which seems to indicate it was incredibly important to whoever it truly belonged to. They clearly didn’t want us to have it.” His words underscored the growing sense that we were facing something far more organized and deliberate than random monster attacks. The missing amulet felt like a crucial piece of a larger, more sinister puzzle.

“Kaelen must be working for whoever that person is,” I stated, the bitterness in my voice still sharp despite the passage of time. “Since he’s the one who took it. It all points back to him. His sudden appearance, his eagerness to join us, and then the betrayal… it wasn’t random. He was a plant, meant to gain our trust and steal that amulet.”

“I really don’t think he believed we would survive the night,” Adrix added, his expression thoughtful. “So us even having the amulet in the first place wasn’t something he likely anticipated. He probably expected those things to finish us off.”

“Then why help at all?” Liora asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Why pretend to be on our side if he just wanted us dead?”

Noctis finally spoke, his voice carrying a quiet weight that drew everyone’s attention. “Because we had already defeated most of them,” he stated, his gaze steady. “He needed to observe us more closely, to gauge the extent of our abilities. We are more of a threat than he initially imagined.” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Once he knew we were going to the ruins, he likely figured we’d be trapped there, overwhelmed by whatever defenses or fiends remained.” A grim understanding settled over the table.

“Underestimating us has inadvertently led to our advantage,” Noctis continued, a hint of grim satisfaction in his tone. “We didn’t even need to painstakingly try and study the ancient texts on those tomes in Pillard Forest. Instead, we were brought directly to ancient ruins, a living library of sorts. And now,” his gaze swept over the scattered scrolls and Finnian’s notes, “we hold more practical information, more firsthand knowledge, than we could have gathered in weeks of research.” The pieces of Kaelen’s deception were clicking into place, revealing a twisted strategy that had ultimately backfired.

A dark thought coiled in my mind, sending a shiver of dread down my spine. “…Is it possible that someone is trying to summon K’tthar back?” I asked, the words barely a whisper, thick with a chilling realization.

A heavy silence fell over the table. Adrix’s knuckles were white where he gripped the table’s edge. Liora seemed to stop breathing, her gaze fixed on Finnian. Finnian’s own attention was lost in the grim words on his page, while Noctis’s expression became even more unreadable, if that were possible, before Finnian’s quiet confirmation. “It’s very possible,” he murmured, his expression troubled as he stared at his notes.

“I wish I had more research materials,” Finnian sighed. “To be able to have a deeper understanding of what we’re truly facing.”

Noctis’s sharp, assessing eyes swept over us. “I think we are going to need Adrix for the next part,” he stated, his gaze finally settling on Adrix. “As long as everyone wants to continue being a part of this mission.” A collective nod rippled around the table. “I do for sure,” I affirmed, a sense of grim determination settling within me. For every answer we uncovered, two more questions arose. The mysterious guild leader’s words about my path becoming clearer echoed in my mind. Is it possible this is connected to the King? The thought flickered unbidden.

“I think we need to see if we can get into the Mages’ Tower,” Noctis continued, his tone focused and strategic. “For that, we are going to need Adrix and one other person. They will not accept all of us. Only a mage and their helper.”

“I think Lyra should go,” Liora offered, looking at me with a warm smile. Had she noticed something? Why the specific suggestion? A flicker of curiosity sparked within me.

“Is that okay with you, Lyra?” Noctis asked, turning his gaze towards me.

“Yes,” I replied, a sense of anticipation mixed with a touch of unease. “I’m fine with that.”

“Great,” Noctis said, his tone decisive. “So, you two need to try and gather what you can from the Mages’ Library and bring it back here for Finnian to look through. The rest of us will try and gather more information from our current location. And I believe,” he concluded, a hint of mystery in his voice, “I need to start preparing for our next move. Which I will reveal upon your return.”

The scraping of chairs against the wooden floor filled the large library as everyone began to rise, the weight of our discoveries settling into a plan of action. Liora lingered near the arched doorway, waiting patiently for me. As I approached, a small frown creased her brow.

“Oh, Lyra,” she said softly, a hint of guilt in her voice, “I hope you’re not upset I suggested you? Or that it didn’t put you on the spot?”

“Why did you offer for me to go? Doesn’t Finnian make more sense?” I asked, genuinely curious about her reasoning. Finnian’s scholarly mind seemed perfectly suited for delving into another library’s collection.

Liora’s gaze flickered away for a moment before returning to mine, a subtle knowing smile playing on her lips. “Well,” she began, her voice conspiratorial, “I just see the way Adrix looks at you. I thought it might be a good time for you guys to be together. Get to know him.”

“If you say so,” I replied, rolling my eyes playfully, though a warmth spread through me at her words. “But still, Finnian would have been better.” A mischievous glint entered my eye. “Unless it’s because you want him all to yourself?” I teased, nudging her with my elbow.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. “That’s not true!” She paused, regaining her composure. “He has ample books for now to look through in Noctis’s library, and you can’t stay and study at the Mages’ Tower anyway. You can only take books. They only allow great mages to borrow them, and they’re enchanted with magic, so they aren’t too worried about them leaving.” Her explanation made practical sense, though a playful smile still tugged at my lips at her suspected matchmaking.

“Right then,” I said, more to myself than to her, a newfound resolve hardening my gaze as I pictured the task ahead. “Tomorrow morning it is.” The Mages’ Tower. The words echoed in my mind, not with apprehension, but with the sharp thrill of a challenge, a vault of secrets ripe for the uncovering. K’tthar, Kaelen, the stolen amulet – the threads were many, dangerously tangled, but the path to answers lay through those ancient library doors. The weight of our mission was undeniable, but unease was a luxury we couldn’t afford. Tomorrow, we wouldn’t just search for information; we would begin to forge a weapon from it.