Chương 26: Chapter 25: Stop flirting with the forbidden archives

The Lower Containment Annex lay beneath the oldest wings of the Synod, accessible only by a narrow stairwell concealed behind a tapestry of some long-forgotten binding ceremony. Judging by the glowing manacles and the alarming number of senior mages depicted, the tapestry commemorated the successful capture of a runaway aether-forged artifact. It was very possibly dramatic propaganda. These days, it mostly hid the most tightly regulated basement on campus.

For those who had no business being there, one needed a Visiting Student Permit of the highest order. Or, in Severa Montreal's case, a last name. Severa handed her sigil-stamped documentation to the guards. The Montreal crest flashed gold. One guard glanced at it for less than a second, and the wardstones opened. She walked through without breaking stride. Fabrisse followed a minute later.

His pass lacked an ancient family crest, but it proudly identified him as an Educational Observation Fellow assigned to the Sanitation & Containment Documentation Fellowship. Greg had filled in every line himself, complete with a justification about studying containment infrastructure cleanliness metrics. Severa hadn't asked where he'd gotten it. Crossing the threshold was like stepping into a cellar.

The lighting was low, sourced from runes embedded into the basalt walls, which all in all provided no heat whatsoever. The sudden chill bit at his ears as his breath adjusted to the cold. The elites really did have an unhealthy fascination with cold rooms. A row of reinforced doors stretched ahead, each covered in sealing glyphs and painted containment markings. [SYSTEM NOTE: You have entered a Restricted Preservation Wing.] [WARNING: Passive glyphs may track intent signature. Keep your emotional state stable.] Detected Attunement Artifact: 1x Stupenstone (Glowing) Resonance feedback may increase inside chambered zones. Proceed cautiously. Fabrisse slowed. Severa called over her shoulder, "Don't lag. Containment halls aren't libraries. Don't gawk like a tourist."

"I'm not gawking. I'm... intellectually curious."

"Pick up your curiosity and keep pace." Curiosity won. One of the doors stood ajar. Fabrisse couldn't help peeking inside. A glass sphere floated over a casting circle. That alone would've been interesting enough without the plaque beneath it: Chamber Four: Votive Construct (Semi-Sentient). Fabrisse leaned. [ARTIFACT CLASSIFICATION: Votive Construct, Type IIB] Containment Status: Stable Known Behaviors: Murmuring, Temperature Flux, Mild Religious Judgment Do not respond to its questions.

Do not accept its compliments. He hurried to catch up. Further along sat a suspended scroll vault locked in a triple-casing of fireglass and bone. [SYSTEM NOTE: Do not touch the Scroll Vault.] [ADDITIONAL NOTE: High-Security Scroll Vault (Class V: Veiled Memory Archive)] Content Status: Obscured | Emotional Imprint: Dense Proximity Exposure: Moderate benefit to RES development RES gain? Fabrisse leaned closer. The inner scrolls glinted more brightly the more he leaned in. I need that.

"Kestovar." Severa's voice resounded. He flinched.

"Stop flirting with the forbidden archives," she called over her shoulder.

"This isn't your tragic backstory arc." He didn't rise to it. Arguing with her would've only confirmed the narrative she wanted. They rounded another corridor and nearly collided with a tall figure dressed in deep violet robes. It was Magus Instructant Bellare, a specialist in Binding Theory and Ethic-coded Sealing Protocols. Fabrisse had met him once, and he wasn't sure if Bellare would recognize him. He had five partially coherent answers and couldn't choose which one might end in detainment.

His hood was already up, and he was ready to trigger every of his Stealth-based skill, but that meant nothing in a hall like this. Intent resonance could be tracked, and he was very recognizable when he panicked. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Bellare squinted at Severa.

"Miss Montreal. I wasn't informed of your presence today."

"I submitted a visitation form to the archive desk this morning," Severa replied.

"It has been signed by House authority, and should be logged in now." Bellare nodded, already turning toward a nearby registry rune. Fabrisse began inching backward until his shoulders touched the wall.

"And the intern?" Bellare asked.

"He's a contingent observer for sanitation metrics, apparently. You know how the sub-departments like their niche research." Bellare frowned.

"Is that the project by Greg J. Johnson?" Greg has a middle name? He thought.

"The same," Severa said.

"He's supervising Kestovar for cross-citation purposes. We're logging containment humidity for threshold glyph decay rates." That sounded exactly like something Greg would fabricate. Fabrisse was surprised Severa bothered learning the specifics of the project Greg had submitted. Bellare, mercifully, looked too tired to question it.

"I see," the magus said and vanished down the hall. Fabrisse exhaled, unnecessarily loudly. Severa aggressively whispered, "I told you to stay quiet. And not to walk like you're one jolt from confessing an unsanctioned summoning." Fabrisse didn't bother to argue. She rolled her eyes and kept walking. He followed. They rounded another corridor, pausing then. Here, inset into the basalt wall between Chambers Six and Seven, was a mural that did not belong.

It had been carved directly into the basalt wall, then flooded with enough aetheric light to make sure nobody missed it. Thaumarch Muradius stood at its center in full ceremonial regalia, one hand gripping a scepter while the other blessed an idealized Synod crest. Twelve flames circled him, one for each sanctioned Path. Behind them all blazed a sun that had absolutely no business existing this far underground. He looked like a god. Or at least, someone very determined to be mistaken for one. Fabrisse stopped.

"You've got to be kidding me." Severa resumed walking.

"Don't gawk." But he stared anyway, just for a moment longer. A mural. Of Muradius. In the lower (and SCIENTIFIC he might add) containment wing of the Synod. It was absurd. Whoever approved this deserved to have their research funding audited. Severa turned back to stare at him, and with a very small sigh, he walked. Chamber Seven waited at the end of the corridor. Its door dwarfed the others, rimmed in brushed silver and set with four locking rings.

Above it, the glyphwork pulsated with the specific lemony yellow hue of unwelcome curiosity. [SYSTEM ALERT: Containment Vault Identified – Chamber Seven] Artifact: Stupenstone (Class: Unregistered Sentiment Anchor) Security Level: Moderate – High Severa placed her sigil-stamped card into the groove on the wall. The lock clicked.

"This is it?" He nodded.

"Yes."

"You better not lie to me about the stone."

"It wasn't my fault you didn't believe in the Stupenstone," he complained in a volume entirely not intended for Severa to hear. Unfortunately, she was standing right across from him.

"I can read lips, Kestovar." He looked away. She continued, "You've spent two years assisting me with artifacts. You know better than anyone that a Legendary artifact requires a Legendary catalyst." So she still didn't believe him. He didn't know what to tell her. That Stupenstone was a rare item, and theory should forbid any interaction between it and the Eidralith.

"Maybe there's something beneath the quartz. A fragment of some Legendary catalyst."

"You couldn't have been that fortunate." She scrunched her nose. Luck? I worked four years for that 'luck'. If she'd given the stone half the attention she'd given her artifacts, she might've answered that question herself. Now standing at the threshold, he watched as Severa keyed the final rune and the door slid open.

"Remember our agreement," she said as she did.

"I'll keep your stone for further studies." Fabrisse pinched the bridge of his nose. An unfair bargain was still a bargain. The lock clicked. The door opened. The chamber beyond was circular, built from deep grey stone and ringed with containment glyphs. At its center floated the Stupenstone inside a hexagonal ward. This time, it didn't glow. Fabrisse stepped forward. His fingers itched. [SYSTEM NOTE: You are within 1. 4 meters of Source Object. Emotional index rising. Aetheric threads pulsing. Interaction available.]"Go on," Severa said behind him.

"That's the reason we're here, isn't it?" He reached toward it. The runes etched into the floor glowed just enough to mark his presence. From the very center of the hex, a pedestal rose, a shaped column of pale light. It stopped just beneath the Stupenstone. [QUEST UPDATE: "Weight of the Words Left Unsaid" – Step 3 Unlocked] Touch the stone. Reclaim what you left behind. Bonus Objective: Don't let her see what it really does. What did that even mean? Emotions weren't tools. They were fog. He couldn't reclaim fog.

He chanced a glance at Severa. She was already circling the containment room, scrutinizing the ward lines carved into the flooring, tracing her fingers across rune stabilizers like she was grading them. She'd find something to criticize, no doubt. Now was his chance. Fabrisse inhaled. His heartbeat felt enormous. [SKILL ACTIVATED: Liminal Presence Drift (Rank III)] The magic wasn't verbal nor did it require intent. Fabrisse hadn't realized how much he'd appreciated Shadow magic until now. He moved.

His steps followed the fractures in the tilework, each one carefully angled to avoid the focal radii of the ward-lines. Ten paces. Then seven. The Stupenstone rolled. Fabrisse inched closer. Three steps. Two more. [Object recognizes Imprint Signature: Fabrisse Kestovar] He reached for it. And that was when he understood what the glyph meant by'what it really does'.