The roads to Eldertide were ancient, carved into the ivory stone of Khesteros long before even the Grand Archive had existed. They wove through the vast plains of silver grass, through valleys where ruins of forgotten towers stood like the ribs of some long-dead giant. The twin moons hung high in the sky as Kaela walked the winding path, her blue ceremonial robes trailing behind her, stirring the dust of ages past.

  The journey was meant to be taken alone. That was the way of the Grand Guardians who came before her, those who sought the wisdom of the Oracle. It was said that only those who walked the path in silence could truly hear what the Oracle had to say.

  And so, Kaela walked.

  The whispers had not left her since the dream. The voice of the girl,pleading, fragmented,lingered at the edges of her mind. Somebody… anybody… please… hear me. The words gnawed at her thoughts, threading themselves into the fabric of her reality, blurring the lines between waking and dreaming.

  It was just before dawn when she saw Eldertide in the distance.

  A city of solitude, built along the banks of the pale rivers, where the oldest of her people came to spend their last years in quiet contemplation. The domes of its temples were veiled in mist, the air heavy with the scent of burning incense and the soft murmur of wind chimes. The river itself shimmered with an unnatural stillness, as though the very flow of time slowed in this sacred place.

  At the heart of Eldertide stood the Sanctuary of the Oracle, a structure unlike any in Khesteros. It had no walls,only towering stone pillars arranged in a great spiral, rising into the sky like the skeletal remains of an unfinished cathedral. At its center sat the Oracle, beneath a vast canopy of woven silk, waiting.

  Kaela’s footsteps were soft on the stone as she approached, the silence pressing in around her. The Oracle did not turn to greet her. She was old,ancient beyond reckoning. Her robes, a deep crimson, were embroidered with sigils from a language long lost to Khesteros. Her eyes, milky white with blindness, stared into the void of eternity.

  “You have come,” the Oracle said, her voice a thread of wind through hollow halls.

  “I seek truth,” Kaela replied, kneeling before her. “I seek knowledge that was erased.”

  The Oracle’s head tilted slightly. “Erased by whom?”

  Kaela hesitated. “By my own people.”

  A slow, knowing smile crossed the Oracle’s lips. “Then you already understand more than most.”

  A hush settled between them, broken only by the gentle ripple of water beyond the sanctuary. Kaela took a breath, steadying herself. “I need to know of Aeliana. The lost Guardian.”

  The Oracle sighed, a sound like old parchment crumbling. “Aeliana was not lost. She was erased. Just as you said.”

  Kaela’s hands tightened into fists. “Why?”

  “Because she dared to ask the question you are now asking.”

  The Oracle reached into the folds of her robes, drawing out a small, worn object,a book. Its leather cover was dark with age, its edges scorched as if it had barely escaped the flames.

  “The Forbidden Book,” Kaela whispered.

  The Oracle nodded. “The last record of Aeliana’s journey. Of what she found beyond the archives, beyond the laws of Khesteros. And the sword she sought.”

  Kaela swallowed hard. “The Sword of Light.”

  A relic of legend. A blade forged in the days before Khesteros turned away from war, before they sealed themselves within their ivory towers and silenced the past. It was said to be hidden beyond the stars themselves, a weapon of unimaginable power,one that could cut through not just flesh, but the fabric of reality itself.

  And Aeliana had searched for it.

  The Oracle’s voice was a whisper of dust. “She sought the sword… and she found the Rift.”

  The Rift. The same darkness that had haunted Kaela’s dreams. The same force that called to her, pulling at the edges of her consciousness.

  “Aeliana never returned,” the Oracle continued. “She vanished beyond the veil of history. And in their fear, the scholars erased her. They burned her name from the records. They silenced the truth.”

  Kaela felt her pulse quicken. “And if I seek what she sought?”

  The Oracle turned her sightless eyes toward her, and for the first time, Kaela felt something beyond age in that gaze. Something infinite.

  “Then you will find what she found.”

  The Rift. The word sent a shiver through Kaela’s bones.

  "What is it?" she whispered.

  The Oracle leaned forward, lowering her voice as if the very walls could listen. "A doorway, a prison, a scar upon the fabric of what is. It was sealed away long before the first stone of Khesteros was laid, long before we were even taught to fear it. And yet, it calls to those who are meant to hear."

  Kaela’s fingers curled into her robes. "And the sword?"

  The Oracle gave the faintest of smiles, as if she had been waiting for this question. "The Sword of Light. It is not merely a weapon, child. It is a key."

  Kaela’s heart pounded. "Where is it?"

  "That is not my knowledge to give," the Oracle said. "I can only guide you to the place where you will find the book. And through it… you will find what you seek."

  Kaela exhaled slowly, grounding herself against the storm of questions raging within her. "Then tell me where to begin."

  The Oracle reached into the folds of her robes, producing a small vial of water that shimmered unnaturally in the dim light. "Take this. When the time comes, pour it upon the floor of the Great Library’s highest tower. The path will reveal itself."

  Kaela took the vial carefully, feeling the cool weight of it in her palm. "And Aeliana? What happened to her?"

  The Oracle’s gaze darkened. "She did not return."

  A silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken warnings. Kaela closed her fingers around the vial and bowed deeply.

  "Thank you, Great Oracle."

  The old woman smiled faintly. "The past and the future are threads in the same weave, child. Be careful not to tangle them."

  The journey back to Khesteros felt heavier, the road darker, the wind colder. The vial sat in the pouch at her waist, a weight both physical and unseen. As the great towers of the city rose in the distance, she knew she was no longer the same woman who had left.

  The truth was hidden within the library she had sworn to protect.

  And she would find it.

  Even if it changed everything.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Kaela sat alone in the depths of the Grand Archives, the dim light of the floating lanterns casting long shadows across the endless shelves of ancient tomes. The silence here was thick, reverent, almost sacred,a place where knowledge was meant to be preserved, not questioned. Yet, she had done the unthinkable.

  The book before her was not meant for her hands. It was not meant for any hands at all.

  She could still hear her father’s voice, deep and steady, warning her when she was just a girl: Some truths do not need to be known, Kaela. Knowledge is power, but power misused is destruction. Do not seek what is meant to be forgotten.

  But she had never been able to forget.

  Her fingers traced the ink that shimmered on the page, shifting like liquid silver beneath the lantern’s glow. The script was ancient, older than her people, older than even the first stone laid in the foundation of the Great Library. The words pulsed beneath her touch, as though alive, as though the very act of reading them had awakened something dormant and waiting.

  Her breath caught as she read:

  "When the cycle returns, the Rift shall awaken."

  "When the Rift awakens, the world shall break."

  "And when the world breaks, the blade shall be revealed."

  Her hands tightened into fists.

  The Rift. The cycle. The inevitability of collapse.

  She had heard the warnings before,buried in myths, whispered in the sacred halls, dismissed as old fears with no bearing on the present. But the words here were not written as prophecy.

  They were written as history.

  Kaela exhaled sharply, leaning back, her mind racing. If this was real,if the cycle was more than just a legend,then their world was already running out of time. She pressed her fingers against her temples, willing her thoughts into order, forcing down the surge of frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

  Think.

  There had to be something. Some way to prevent this, some way to prepare.

  She scoured the pages, reading faster now, her heart pounding against her ribs. And then she found it.

  "The blade will rest in the pool of eternity, hidden beneath the ripples of time. It can only be seen by the one who listens. It can only be wielded by the one who seeks."

  Her breath stilled.

  A sword. A weapon meant to cut through the Rift itself. If this was real,if it still existed,then perhaps all was not lost.

  But she needed more. She needed guidance, confirmation,she needed the scholars to hear her.

  She had to tell them.

  Kaela stood in the center of the Grand Hall of Scholars, her voice ringing against the marble pillars, the echoes swallowed by the silence of the room.

  They watched her, unmoving.

  Not with the patience of wise men listening, but with the stillness of predators waiting to strike.

  She had presented her findings, laid out the evidence in clear, precise words. She had spoken of the Rift, the cycle, the warnings hidden in the past,the fate awaiting them all.

  And in return?

  Nothing.

  Only the slow burn of disdain.

  "Blasphemy," one of the elders hissed, breaking the silence first. His pale blue eyes bore into her like ice, his voice heavy with scorn. "You speak of nonsense. Myths. Tales told to frighten children."

  Kaela’s jaw tightened.

  "The book exists," she said, forcing herself to stay calm, to remain composed despite the storm inside her. "The words are there. The cycle is real. If we do nothing,"

  "You would have us act on stories?" another scholar interrupted, scoffing.

  She turned to face him. "Do you think the cycle is a myth because you wish it to be? Because it is easier to believe that we are untouchable?"

  A ripple of murmurs passed through the council.

  "Enough," the High Scholar spoke, his voice steady, firm. The room fell silent as all eyes turned toward him. His face, usually one of serenity, was hard as carved stone.

  "You stand here, speaking of things forbidden," he said, and though his tone was calm, there was a weight to it that pressed against her ribs. "You seek knowledge that was hidden for a reason."

  "Because you are afraid of it," Kaela shot back before she could stop herself.

  A shift in the room. A subtle movement of bodies.

  "You do not understand what you meddle with," the High Scholar said. "If the Rift is real, then it is beyond our hands. We do not interfere with things greater than us."

  Kaela felt something inside her snap.

  She had always believed in their wisdom, in their leadership, in the power of knowledge to guide their people. And now, standing here, she realized the truth,

  They would do nothing.

  They would let the world burn before they admitted they were wrong.

  She could have begged. She could have reasoned, softened her tone, pleaded with them to see.

  But there was no point.

  She straightened her back, lifted her chin, and spoke with the clarity of one who had already made her decision.

  "If you will not act, then I will."

  Silence.

  A final silence.

  "You are dismissed, Grand Guardian," the High Scholar said.

  And with those words, she was exiled from their truth.

  She left the Grand Library with a storm in her chest.

  Frustration, fear, anger,a wildfire raging beneath her skin. She had spent her life devoted to wisdom, to preservation, to truth, and now? Now she knew the truth, and they had cast her aside for it.

  She could still hear them in her mind, their voices cold, their expressions unwavering.

  You do not understand what you meddle with.

  But she did. And if they refused to act, she would find her own way.

  Her fingers tightened around the book as she walked through the empty corridors of the lower archives, her thoughts racing.

  "The pool of eternity."

  The words had clung to her mind. A body of water so clear it held no reflection, where past and future bled together, where time itself was undone.

  And the sword,the weapon hidden beneath its still waters, waiting for the one who could find it.

  Her feet moved before her mind had even finished the thought. She had spent years memorizing the old maps, studying the terrain beyond the city walls, learning the places even the scholars had forgotten.

  And she knew where to go.

  She ran.

  Not the stillness of peace, but of something holding its breath.

  Kaela stepped into the clearing, her pulse hammering. Before her stretched the pool,so clear, so perfectly motionless, that it seemed less like water and more like a tear in reality itself.

  And beneath it, resting in the depths, was the sword.

  It had no sheath. No rust. No sign of age. It was pristine, untouched by time, as though it had been waiting only for her.

  She stepped forward, the water cool against her skin, rippling around her ankles.

  She reached down,her fingers brushed the hilt.

  And then,

  The world shattered.

  She saw fire.

  She saw oceans rise to the sky.

  She saw Ammon,a hunger beyond gods,devouring entire worlds.

  She gasped, collapsing to her knees as the vision snapped away. The pool was silent once more.

  But the sword was in her hands.

  And now, she understood.

  She had no choice.

  She had to find the others. The Rift had already begun.

  “The road is long, winding through shadows and memories alike.

  Yet even in solitude, she feels the footsteps of echoes past.

  Voices slip through fissures in time, reminders that she never truly walks alone.

  Ahead, the Oracle’s gaze pierces veils unseen, waiting patiently for truths to unfold.

  Yet another presence stirs, hidden in deeper darkness,older, hungrier.

  It has slumbered beneath layers of forgotten dreams, beneath the bones of history itself.

  It waits, knowing the paths she must tread.

  It remembers when worlds were young, when stars first breathed.

  Its patience outlasts empires, outlives gods.

  She moves closer, unaware of eyes ancient and watchful.

  The past may whisper, but the future screams,urgent, desperate.

  Will she hear it? Will she understand in time?

  Kaela, Guardian of uncertain fates, bearer of burdens untold,

  Step carefully.

  For what has waited through eternity grows restless at your approach.”