The Grand Archive loomed in the distance, its gleaming spires casting long shadows over the Scholars' Quarter. Despite Lyra's assurances that we'd find a way inside, I couldn't shake the sense that we were standing at the foot of an unscalable mountain.
"We can't just waltz up to the doors and ask to be let in," I said as we moved away from the Archive's imposing presence.
"Of course not," Lyra replied, her voice calm but sharp. "But the Quarter is full of people who know how things work here. We'll figure out who to talk to, and what strings to pull."
The idea of string-pulling didn't sit well with me. My sword felt more comfortable in my hand than diplomacy ever could, but this wasn't a battle I could win with brute force.
We veered into one of the side streets, where the activity was less frenetic but still vibrant. Shops lined the cobblestones, their signs painted with symbols I didn't recognize—runes, stars, and abstract patterns that seemed to pulse faintly with magic. In one window, a strange mechanical device spun slowly, its parts moving in perfect synchronization. In another, shelves were lined with glowing vials of every color imaginable.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"To someone who owes me a favor," Lyra said, her tone clipped.
I raised an eyebrow. "You seem to know a lot of people who owe you favors."
Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "In a place like this, knowing who to lean on is the only way to survive."
The shop Lyra led us to was tucked into a narrow alley, its entrance marked only by a simple wooden sign that read "Talas' Emporium". The door creaked as Lyra pushed it open, revealing a cluttered interior packed with shelves of books, artifacts, and strange trinkets that buzzed faintly when I passed too close.
Behind the counter stood a man with gray-streaked hair and a pair of spectacles that looked too heavy for his narrow face. His sharp eyes lit up when he saw Lyra.
"Well, well," he said, setting down a quill. "If it isn't Lyra. Haven't seen you in... what, two years?"
"Three," Lyra corrected. "But who's counting?"
Talas chuckled. "You never show up without a reason. What do you need this time?"
"Access to the Grand Archive," Lyra said without hesitation.
Talas's smile faltered. He adjusted his spectacles and leaned forward. "That's no small ask, even for you."
"I'm not asking you to get us in," Lyra said. "Just point us in the direction of someone who can."
Talas studied her for a moment, then turned his gaze to me. His eyes narrowed as if he was seeing something I couldn't. "And who's this?"
"A traveler," Lyra said quickly.
"A traveler, huh?" Talas said, unconvinced. "You're carrying something, kid. Something... old."
I stiffened, my hand instinctively brushing the pendant beneath my shirt. "That's none of your business."
Talas raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fair enough. But if you're looking to get into the Archive, you'll need to be more careful. The Enforcers don't take kindly to secrets."
"We'll handle the Enforcers," Lyra said firmly. "Just tell us what we need to know."
Talas sighed, running a hand through his hair. "There's a scholar named Cerys who frequents the Archive. She's got connections to the guilds, enough to get someone past the outer levels. But she's not easy to sway, and she doesn't trust easily."
"Where can we find her?" Lyra asked.
"She spends most of her time at the Observatory," Talas said, nodding toward one of the taller buildings in the Quarter. "But if you're thinking of convincing her to help, you'll need something to offer."
Lyra nodded, her expression unreadable. "Thanks, Talas. I owe you one."
"You owe me three," he said with a grin.
The Observatory was even more imposing up close than it had been from a distance. Its central tower rose high above the surrounding buildings, capped with a massive dome of polished brass that gleamed in the afternoon light.
"Do you think this Cerys will help us?" I asked as we approached the entrance.
"She will," Lyra said, her confidence unwavering. "Once we figure out what she wants."
The interior of the Observatory was as grand as its exterior, with wide, open halls lined with intricate murals of stars, planets, and constellations. The air was cool and carried the faint scent of metal and oil. Scholars and magicians moved between chambers, some carrying books, others delicate instruments that clicked and whirred with unseen energy.
We found Cerys in one of the upper chambers, bent over a table covered in star charts and intricate diagrams. She was younger than I expected, her dark hair tied back in a loose braid, her sharp eyes flicking between her notes and a glowing crystal orb that hovered above the table.
"Cerys?" Lyra said, her voice breaking the quiet hum of the room.
The scholar looked up, her gaze immediately narrowing. "Who's asking?"
"I'm Lyra," she said, stepping forward. "This is Aric. We need your help."
Cerys leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Help with what?"
"Getting into the Grand Archive," Lyra said bluntly.
Cerys snorted, shaking her head. "You're not the first to ask, and you won't be the last. My answer's the same: I don't get involved in other people's business."
"This isn't just anyone's business," Lyra said. "It's about the Vanguard."
Cerys froze, her expression shifting from irritation to curiosity. "The Vanguard?"
"Yes," I said, stepping forward. "We think the Archive has information about them—and the watchers."
Her eyes flicked to me, narrowing. "Why would you care about something that ancient?"
I hesitated, the weight of the pendant against my chest a constant reminder of the truth I wasn't ready to share. "Because it matters," I said finally. "To both of us."
Cerys studied me for a long moment before sighing. "If you're serious about this, you'll need more than words to convince me. The guilds don't grant favors lightly, and my reputation's on the line if I vouch for you."
"What do you want?" Lyra asked.
Cerys smiled faintly. "I'll think about it. Come back tomorrow. If I decide you're worth the risk, I'll let you know."
As we left the Observatory, the weight of the day settled over me like a heavy cloak. The Scholars' Quarter was a labyrinth, its secrets tantalizingly close but always just out of reach.
"Do you think she'll help us?" I asked.
"She'll come around," Lyra said, though her tone was less certain than her words.
I glanced back at the towering dome of the Observatory, its brass surface gleaming in the fading light. Whatever answers lay in the Grand Archive, they were guarded by layers of power, mistrust, and danger.
And we were running out of time.