Celia Lumehart pressed her hand against the gilded door of the Grand Archive, feeling a familiar thrill run through her veins. The door's metal filigree was cool to the touch, etched with swirling patterns that echoed the very essence of magic that flowed through Aetheria. At this late hour, most scholars and archivists had retreated to their quarters, leaving the corridors quiet—too quiet, perhaps, for a heart already quickened by uneasy curiosity.
She stepped inside, shutting the heavy door carefully behind her. The Archive always made her feel like she was entering a hidden realm of endless knowledge. It wasn't just the walls lined from floor to ceiling with ornate bookshelves; it was the hush, the reverence that blanketed every room and corridor. In the lamp-lit gloom, her footsteps were muffled by the thick carpets that stretched across marble floors. Occasionally, the faint scratch of a quill or the soft rustle of parchment would remind her that other dedicated souls worked here too, but tonight, it seemed she was alone.
A single lamp, set upon a reading desk, cast her shadow long and thin against the towering shelves. She set her satchel down, pulled free a worn leather notebook, and flipped it open to a page brimming with scribbles in her delicate hand. "Essence Fission," she had written, underlined twice and circled. Around the phrase she had jotted questions, exclamation marks, and sketches of runic symbols.
Her cheeks warmed at the memory of stumbling across that term for the first time earlier in the day. She had been cataloging new acquisitions for the Council of Catalysts—dusty tomes salvaged from an old estate near the Solaria Plains—when the words had leapt out at her from a half-destroyed page. The direct references to Essence Fission were few, but the cryptic footnotes suggested something so large, so dangerous, that Celia had been unable to let it go. Now, late at night, she intended to do what she did best: research.
She trudged deeper into the Archives, navigating by memory. This section was older, containing restricted shelves and locked cabinets whose keys were doled out sparingly. Celia was only a junior scholar, but she had proven herself trustworthy and capable—particularly after demonstrating her Verdant Bloom Unique Skill. The skill allowed her to manipulate plant growth at will, a talent the Council had found immensely helpful for more than just showy landscaping. It also proved her strong attunement to the Essence that bound all living things. Over the past year, her diligence and respect for knowledge had earned her limited access to these once-forbidden shelves.
Tonight, she lifted the latch on one such cabinet and carefully drew out a ragged scroll. By the faint lamplight, her eyes danced over the text. Her breath caught when she recognized the same runic shapes from her notes: "Essence Fission." The words seemed to blaze on the page, a silent challenge to her curiosity.
"Impossible…" she whispered. She had read about Essence Fusion—where two compatible energies were merged harmoniously—but Fission implied a fracturing of sorts. Why would anyone want to separate or break Essence? The concept felt unnatural. Essence was life, the undercurrent of every living creature in Aetheria. Splitting it… well, that sounded like a shortcut to madness or worse.
A soft creak made her spin around, heart hammering. A small figure shuffled through the main aisle of the Archive. Only after the next few steps did she recognize him as Master Eddral, the head archivist. He paused when he saw her, bushy eyebrows shooting up in mild surprise.
"Celia," he said quietly, approaching with a lantern in hand. "Burning the midnight oil again?"
She forced a sheepish smile, slipping the scroll behind her back. "Good evening, Master Eddral. Yes, just… cross-referencing some new findings."
His gaze fell on the small writing desk and the stack of manuscripts. "I see you've been reading about old experiments," he said, voice tinged with caution. "That's restricted material, you know."
Celia swallowed, not quite meeting his eyes. "I realize that. But I found references to something called… well, it's about Rift phenomena… and I believe it might relate to the disturbances we've heard about in the farmlands."
Eddral's brow furrowed. He sighed and gave a slight nod, stepping closer. "I've heard rumors too—rumors of faint, glowing tears in the sky or ground, strange creatures wandering out. The Council has only started paying attention because merchants have brought back stories of twisted beasts, and there've been sightings of odd flickers at the horizon at night." He eyed her with a kind but firm expression. "And you think these are connected to what you're reading?"
She nodded. "I can't say for sure yet, but my intuition tells me they might be. Some of these notes reference a process that forcibly splits… or fissions… Essence. I can't help but suspect it's tied to unnatural phenomena like these flickering 'Rifts.'"
Master Eddral pursed his lips, weighing her words. Finally, he beckoned for her to follow him to a wide oak table near the center of the hall. The corners of the table were decorated with carved shapes of dragons, owls, and wolves, symbolizing the unity of knowledge in Aetheria. He set his lantern down and placed a gentle hand over the scroll in Celia's grasp.
"You have a keen mind, Celia," he said softly. "And a good heart. But be cautious. Tales of Essence Fission are older than the Council itself, older than any living memory. If it has reemerged, it could be dangerous." He looked her in the eyes, concern etched in every line of his face. "You must bring this to the Council's attention in an official capacity."
A flicker of apprehension curled in her stomach. Bringing it to the Council meant scrutiny, debate, and possibly being told to step away from the subject. Still, she gave a quiet nod. "Yes, Master Eddral. I understand."
He let out a weary breath. "Good. Now, gather your notes. We'll speak to the others at first light. You should get some rest."
Celia inclined her head politely, a small swirl of anxiety and excitement unfurling within her. She truly did want to share her findings—yet a stubborn voice in her mind whispered caution. With delicate care, she placed the scroll back on the desk. The two parted ways, Eddral disappearing into the labyrinth of shelves, while she extinguished her lamp. Shadows danced across the walls as she prepared to leave, collecting her satchel and stepping once more into the corridor.
But something made her pause. An odd sensation tugged at her senses, like a faint ripple in the air. Her breath caught as she turned to look at the tall, arched window near the Archive entrance. Through the glass, the moonlit city of Solaria spread out below, a tapestry of winding streets and quiet homes. Yet just beyond, near the horizon…
A subtle glow, lilac in hue, shimmered against the night sky. And then it flickered—like a tear in silk, opening, then closing. Her heart pounded. For a moment, she swore she saw a shape or a swirl of energy, as though the sky itself had peeled back. Then, just as quickly, the glow vanished, leaving only the soft glow of moon and stars.
She pressed a trembling hand to the window, unsure if she had truly witnessed an anomaly or if her mind had conjured it under the weight of her late-night study. But the unease wouldn't leave her. If these Rifts were appearing so close to Solaria, then time was far shorter than anyone realized.
The next morning, Celia found herself seated at a broad council table, one of the smaller chambers used for preliminary discussions. Seven individuals were gathered: three seasoned members of the Council of Catalysts—including the imposing Head Councilor, Lady Eradine—and a handful of aides or lesser representatives. Master Eddral stood behind Celia, offering silent support. She clutched her notebook, nerves twisting in her stomach, aware this was her first time formally presenting evidence to such a high-level body.
Lady Eradine, tall and statuesque with salt-and-pepper hair woven into a braid, clasped her hands on the table. "Celia Lumehart, you asked for a hearing about these so-called 'Silent Rifts.' We've all heard the rumors, but none of our official watchers have reported anything conclusive. What do you have to share?"
Celia inhaled slowly, drawing resolve from the memory of that faint lilac glow. "My lady, there are scattered accounts from merchants, farmers, and travelers. I've collected testimonies describing flickering anomalies in farmland skies. Several mention glimpses of creatures that disappear as soon as they are noticed. Last night, I believe I saw one myself from the Grand Archive."
Murmurs fluttered around the table. One official, a short, balding man, coughed politely. "That is… unverified," he said, though not unkindly. "We can't form policy on illusions."
Celia nodded, bracing herself. "True. But I've also discovered references in old texts to experiments that forcibly manipulated Essence. One term reoccurs: Essence Fission. The notes imply that forcibly splitting Essence leads to dimensional instabilities—tears between our realm and… another place, or multiple places. It's possible these are the very Rifts we're seeing now."
Silence hovered in the air. Lady Eradine's gaze sharpened. "Essence Fission has long been deemed theoretical at best, catastrophic at worst. We have no records of it being successfully executed in modern history."
Master Eddral cleared his throat. "No modern records, indeed, Lady Eradine. But Celia's findings might indicate a resurgence or imitation of that lost experiment. If so, we must investigate."
Another council member, a soft-spoken woman with golden spectacles, leaned forward. "Do we have any direct proof, Miss Lumehart?"
Celia hesitated. "Not beyond the texts. But I know what I saw last night. If the farmland incidents match my own observations, then these Rifts are real. And we need to confirm if there's a link to any active or hidden research into Fission. All it might take is one person or group rediscovering the old methods."
Lady Eradine tapped her fingers on the table. "The Council has already heard too many rumors. We need facts, evidence. Celia, you have proven yourself a diligent scholar, and your Unique Skill, Verdant Bloom, has aided us in the past." She paused, then slid her steely gaze around the room. "I propose we assign Miss Lumehart to do a preliminary investigation in the nearby farmland. If these anomalies truly exist, she can gather eyewitness accounts, perhaps capture proof."
A flicker of relief mingled with anxiety in Celia's chest. She knew this was both an honor and a tremendous responsibility. "I'll do whatever is required," she said softly.
Another councilor sighed, looking unconvinced. "And if we discover that nothing is amiss? We would have wasted time—"
"It won't be wasted," Lady Eradine cut in. "We must ensure the safety of our territory. Better to investigate a phantom rumor than ignore a real threat."
With that, the Council rose, ending the short hearing. Master Eddral offered Celia a small, approving smile as they stepped out. Lady Eradine tapped Celia's shoulder, motioning for her to walk with her. The corridors of the Council hall were grand but spare, each wall hung with tapestry-like banners representing various recognized Ascendant Titles and the symbols of their feats. Celia glanced at them—some featured regal beasts, others swirling arcane motifs. Ascendant Titles were revered in Aetheria, rare and mighty. She sometimes wondered if her own unique skill might one day lead her down a path toward a Title, but it felt like a far-off dream.
"You will need an escort," Lady Eradine said, interrupting her thoughts. "I've asked a capable warrior to accompany you: Devran Stormclaw. He's not a council member, but he has shown extraordinary skill in dealing with unusual threats. We'll hold a formal introduction tomorrow morning."
Celia nodded, feeling a mingling of curiosity and unease. "Thank you, Lady Eradine."
"Gather supplies. You leave for the farmland in two days. Do not delay." The councilwoman strode away, cloak billowing behind her, leaving Celia alone in the wide corridor.
Outside, the midday sun had chased away the cooler morning air. Stepping out of the Council hall, Celia shielded her eyes, momentarily dizzy from the brilliant warmth. All around her, Solaria bustled—merchants hawked wares, children played in the streets, and traveling minstrels strummed cheerful tunes. The city's name was well-earned, for sunshine bathed its stone walls almost year-round, giving it a bright, lively aura.
Still, as she made her way through the crowds, her gaze drifted to the far horizon, where farmland stretched out for miles. She tried to picture the faint Rifts rumored to hover above fields of wheat and barley. A swirl of questions buzzed in her head: Could it really be Essence Fission? Who would tamper with such forbidden knowledge, and why?
Her steps carried her past open-air cafés and artisan workshops. She paused briefly at a market stall offering potion ingredients, picking up a small pouch of dried lavender buds and some healing herbs. She'd learned from past fieldwork to always have rudimentary remedies on hand, especially since her Verdant Bloom, though potent, wasn't purely medicinal; it was more about accelerating plant growth and harnessing nature's raw vitality.
The vendor, a kindly older woman, gave Celia a curious look. "Off somewhere, dear? You look ready for a journey."
Celia offered a polite smile. "Just preparing for a small trip outside the city."
"Be safe," the woman replied softly. "Strange talk going 'round these days. People seeing odd lights in the sky. Don't let trouble find you."
"I'll do my best," Celia assured her, though her own heart warbled with uncertainty.
By late afternoon, Celia retreated to her modest apartment near the Grand Archive. It was a single-room loft on an upper floor, with tall windows that provided a splendid view of Solaria's rooftops. She set her satchel down, then drifted to the window. As the sun dipped behind rooftops, a soft orange glow crowned the distant farmland. She squinted, trying to detect any flicker or shimmer that didn't belong.
Nothing unusual. Yet her mind replayed the night before: that brief, lilac glow. She couldn't shake the feeling that it was a sign of something bigger. A quiet dread whispered that she was stepping into matters that might reshape Aetheria.
When night fell, she lit a small lantern on her writing desk and set about organizing her notes. Her scrawled pages had references to tomes on old, experimental magic, along with anecdotal Rift sightings. She circled a name—Devran Stormclaw—and wondered who he was, how the Council had discovered him, what sort of warrior he might be.
Just as she was leaning over to jot a few final thoughts, a sudden hush seemed to fall over the city. The usual nightlife hum—distant chatter, wagon wheels—felt muffled. A chill prickled the back of her neck. Slowly, she rose and walked to the window, lantern light bobbing.
At first, everything seemed normal. The moon had risen, bright and steady. Solaria's towers cut dark silhouettes against the starry expanse. Then, at the very edge of her vision—she froze.
A pinprick of violet luminescence winked into existence, far in the distance, near the farmland. It was just like last night, but more pronounced. Wide-eyed, she watched as it flickered, widened, then hissed shut as though an invisible seamstress had sewn the sky back together in an instant.
Her heart thudded. There was no more denying it: these Rifts were real. But were they truly tethered to Essence Fission experiments, or had Celia only made a convenient mental link? She pressed a trembling palm to the cool glass. Regardless, it was enough proof for her.
We have to find out what's causing this, she thought, swallowing the lump of dread in her throat. The Council had given her permission to search; soon, she'd have a traveling partner. She only hoped that these fleeting tears in reality didn't rip open entirely before she could unravel the mystery.
That night, sleep evaded her. She tossed and turned in her narrow bed, haunted by images of glowing purple lacerations slicing through the sky, from which beasts and horrors emerged. The notion that someone might be causing this—deliberately playing with the very core of Aetheria's life force—made her stomach churn. She wasn't a soldier, nor a hardened adventurer; she was a scholar with a knack for coaxing flowers to bloom. How could she possibly stand against forces that threatened to rend the fabric of their world?
Yet she clung to a fragile thread of hope. The Council had recognized her diligence. They wouldn't send her out blind. And if Devran Stormclaw was half as capable as Lady Eradine implied, they might stand a chance at uncovering the truth.
At daybreak, she rose and readied herself. Nerves buzzed like static under her skin as she dressed in a sturdy traveling cloak and practical boots. She stuffed her satchel with notebooks, quills, an extra lantern, and the fresh herbal supplies she'd purchased. After a quick meal of bread and jam, she hurried to the Council's smaller courtyard for the awaited meeting.
It was a bright morning, the sun gilding the high pillars and archways. Council members milled about or bustled between tasks, their robes and attire denoting their ranks. Standing near a fountain, Master Eddral greeted her with a polite wave. Beside him was a tall figure with charcoal-black hair pulled back into a short tail, clad in leathers reinforced with plates of steel. A sheathed longsword hung at his hip, and something about his stance—relaxed yet ready—gave the impression of coiled strength.
"Celia, good morning," Master Eddral called. "Allow me to present Devran Stormclaw."
Devran turned, and his steel-gray eyes met hers. There was a fierce confidence in them, tempered by a certain directness that made her pulse jump. He inclined his head in greeting. "Celia Lumehart, right? Scholar from the Grand Archive?"
She nodded shyly. "Yes, that's me. You're… a soldier?"
"More like a wandering warrior, though I've done work with the Council off and on." He paused, scanning her face with a curious expression. "Lady Eradine mentioned you were heading out to investigate anomalies in the farmland. Said you needed some muscle at your side."
Heat rose to her cheeks. "I don't know if 'muscle' is the official term, but I appreciate the help." She tried a small smile. "I'm not exactly a fighter, though my magic can be useful."
"Then we'll make a good team," he said simply.
Any further conversation was cut short as Lady Eradine approached, flanked by two other Council members. She briefly acknowledged Devran, then fixed Celia with a solemn look. "Time is of the essence. Scouts confirm sightings of strange lights near the villages of Westwood and Amberfield. Farmers there have reported losing livestock to… creatures they can't quite describe." She folded her arms. "Go, confirm if these are truly 'Silent Rifts.' If so, gather evidence for a proper Council response. We stand ready to mobilize more warriors if necessary."
Celia and Devran both nodded. After a final round of formalities, they left the courtyard together. Celia felt an odd sense of destiny tugging at her heart as they threaded through the bustling streets of Solaria. She glanced up at Devran, noticing how he walked with a natural confidence, yet remained alert to his surroundings.
"You seem calm," she observed, her voice almost lost amid the city din.
He looked at her sidelong. "I've seen plenty of strange things, but I've never heard of Rifts that tear open reality. Hard to be calm about that, truthfully. But I've learned panic doesn't solve problems." He shrugged. "Anyway, you might say I'm used to defending folks from the unknown."
She nodded, inhaling slowly as they passed under the city's grand gates. Outside, the main road unwound through rolling fields of golden wheat and vibrant wildflowers. The farmland felt peaceful on the surface, yet she couldn't shake the disquiet lodged in her chest.
"Let's hope we find answers," she said quietly.
Devran gave a faint nod, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. "Answers, and possibly trouble." A flicker of something like a grin crossed his features. "But I'm ready for both. Are you?"
Her steps faltered for a second, uncertainty roaring in her mind. She glanced up at him. "I'll do my best."
They walked on, the towering walls of Solaria growing distant behind them. Somewhere out in these fields, Celia sensed the next piece of the puzzle awaited—a puzzle that began with an ancient, forbidden concept scrawled in half-decayed tomes: Essence Fission. And if that puzzle was indeed tied to the glowing tears she'd seen at night, then every step they took toward the farmland was a step deeper into the unraveling mystery that could endanger all of Aetheria.