The entrance to the Forgotten Archives lay hidden beneath the crumbling ruins of Lumenholt's oldest district. The once-thriving area was now a maze of decayed buildings, tangled vines, and shadows that seemed alive. Eran and Lyra moved cautiously, their footsteps muffled by the thick layer of dust coating the cobblestones.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" Eran asked, glancing uneasily at the skeletal remains of a collapsed tower looming overhead.
"Positive," Lyra replied, her eyes scanning their surroundings. "The council doesn't bother guarding it because they think no one would dare venture here. That works in our favor."
The ruins felt oppressive, as if the air itself was thick with the weight of forgotten secrets. Eran couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching them, though he saw nothing but shadows.
They stopped in front of a crumbling archway, half-buried by debris. Symbols carved into the stone seemed to glow faintly, their light flickering like dying embers.
"This is it," Lyra said, stepping forward. She ran her fingers over the carvings, her expression thoughtful. "These runes are part of the seal. We'll need to break it to enter."
Eran frowned. "Break it? Won't that alert the council?"
"Not if we do it carefully," Lyra replied, pulling the strange device from her belt. She adjusted its settings, the blue veins along its surface glowing brighter. "Stand back."
Eran obeyed, watching as Lyra activated the device. A beam of energy shot out, connecting with the runes. The air crackled, and the stone began to vibrate. Slowly, the seal unraveled, the symbols fading into nothingness.
The archway groaned, then collapsed inward, revealing a dark staircase descending into the earth. A cold, musty breeze wafted up, carrying the scent of age and decay.
"Ladies first," Eran said, attempting a nervous smile.
Lyra shot him a look but led the way down, her footsteps echoing in the narrow passage. Eran followed, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his blade.
The staircase seemed to go on forever, spiraling deeper into the ground. The faint light from above disappeared, leaving only the soft glow of Lyra's device to guide them.
"Tell me more about this artifact we're looking for," Eran said, his voice low.
"It's called the Temporal Keystone," Lyra replied. "It's a fragment of the original Rift, created before the council took control. It has the power to stabilize—or destabilize—time. Without it, we can't even approach their headquarters."
"And it's just sitting down here in the Archives?"
Lyra hesitated. "Not exactly. The Keystone is hidden, protected by layers of puzzles and traps. The Archives were designed to safeguard knowledge, not hand it over easily."
"Great," Eran muttered. "Because this wasn't hard enough already."
At the bottom of the staircase, they emerged into a vast chamber. The walls were lined with towering shelves, each crammed with ancient books, scrolls, and artifacts. The air was thick with dust, and the faint hum of energy resonated through the room.
Lyra approached the nearest shelf, running her fingers over the spines of the books. "The Keystone should be in the central vault. But we'll need to solve the Archive's defense mechanisms to access it."
Eran raised an eyebrow. "Defense mechanisms?"
As if in answer, the ground beneath them rumbled. The shelves began to shift, grinding against each other like massive gears. The room reconfigured itself, forming a labyrinth of corridors and dead ends.
"Of course," Eran said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why wouldn't it be a giant maze?"
Lyra ignored him, her focus on the shifting walls. "The maze is only the first layer of defense. Stay close and follow my lead."
They navigated the twisting corridors, the air growing colder with each step. Strange whispers echoed around them, as if the walls themselves were alive. Eran couldn't understand the words, but they sent a chill down his spine.
"What are those?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"The echoes of knowledge," Lyra said. "Fragments of the past, preserved by the Archives. Don't listen too closely—they can drive you mad."
Eran quickened his pace, staying close behind her. They reached an open chamber, where a pedestal stood at the center. On it was a glowing crystal, its light pulsing rhythmically.
"This is it," Lyra said, approaching cautiously.
As she reached for the crystal, a deep, resonant voice filled the room.
"Only those who seek truth may proceed."
The air around them shimmered, and a figure materialized—an ethereal guardian clad in golden armor, its face obscured by a helm. It held a massive sword that crackled with energy.
Eran instinctively drew his blade, but Lyra held up a hand. "It's a test," she said. "The guardian won't attack unless we fail."
"Fail what?" Eran asked, his grip on the blade tightening.
The guardian stepped forward, its voice booming. "Answer the riddle, or face annihilation."
The room fell silent, and the guardian spoke again:
"I am not alive, yet I grow. I lack lungs, yet I breathe. I lack a mouth, yet water brings me life. What am I?"
Eran's mind raced as he repeated the riddle. Beside him, Lyra remained calm, her gaze fixed on the guardian.
"Think," she said softly. "The answer is simpler than it seems."
After a moment, realization dawned on Eran. "A fire," he said.
The guardian tilted its head, as if considering the answer. Then, with a deep bow, it stepped aside.
"The way is open," it said, its voice now softer.
The crystal on the pedestal flared brightly, and a hidden door slid open in the far wall. Lyra picked up the crystal and turned to Eran, a rare smile on her lips.
"Well done," she said.
Eran exhaled, the tension in his chest easing slightly. "One step closer," he said, though he knew the real challenges were just beginning.