2 - The Library of Whispers

As they ventured back into the city shrouded in gloom, the oppressive atmosphere engulfed them. Lunar broke the silence, his voice cutting through the thick air.

"I wonder, Syn, how long has it been? Seeing all these Desolate Souls, it baffles me we haven't succumbed to the depths of Nill yet."

"It's all thanks to Luminia. Without her, most of us would have been consumed by not only Nill, but also by Null. You underestimate the depths of our sins, Lunar. We are sinners of the darkest end.

A shadow of remorse crossed Lunar's face as he glanced down at the curse marks etched upon his arms, serving as a constant reminder of their dire existence.

"You see, despite my unwavering devotion toward Imbra, I cannot help but wonder how deep we have fallen into the abyss. Do you ever question our path, fellow betrayer?"

Gravesyn's voice dropped to a hushed tone, her eyes scanning their surroundings warily. "Careful with your words, Lunar. In this world skepticism is a shield against a fate more gruesome and inevitable than even ours—the Fallen Ones. But…" her voice grew softer, cautious of their surroundings. "…do you ever find solace in our cause? Despite the darkness that consumes us, do you truly believe in the righteousness of our path?"

Lunar's gaze turned distant as he contemplated her question. "Solace is a fleeting luxury, Syn. But belief… belief and Desolate hope are what keeps us going, even given that we still, are dancing alongside the Flow of Luminosity, we must believe in the necessity of our struggle, in the need to defy the damned Holy Church."

Gravesyn observed the slight shift in Lunar's tone, sensing the weight of his past and the scars he carried. Despite her yearning to provide reassurance, she knew Lunar well enough to understand that if he did not wish to share, he wouldn't. There were depths within him that not even she, his trusted comrade, could fully fathom.

Their short, but rewarding journey came to an end, and they stood before their desolate cathedral-like building, its darkened facade casting an eerie shadow over the surrounding landscape. As they approached Declan, with his tall frame and commanding presence, stood near the entrance, his gaze fixed upon the grey-coated sky. His silver hair contrasted sharply with his pale skin, while his intense dark brown eyes mirrored the somber ambiance that enveloped them.

Silently, he contemplated the desolation that had become the norm, a landscape devoid of vibrant hues and saturated with melancholy. It was as if he sought solace in the fleeting moments of imagination, attempting to grasp the concept of a world filled with vivid, bright colors that existed only in the depths of his mind. But reality always shattered those illusions, leaving behind the monotonous gloom that persisted.

Gravesyn and Lunar approached him after settling their horses, their footsteps muffled by the hushed stillness that hung in the air. Lunar, ever the realist, couldn't help but express his nihilistic perspective. "Appreciating the sky? There's nothing impressive about it. Just an endless expanse of merciless oblivion, a reflection of the emptiness that pervades our existence."

Declan turned to face them, his expression a mixture of resignation and a lingering flickering of hope. "I know," he replied. "I was merely indulging in a fleeting thought, trying to imagine how the sky would look if life held a true purpose in this damned world… besides, where did the both of you go? It's near nighttime."

"I accompanied Lunar to retrieve the Sanctified Elixir. It was but a whiff of wind, though. He managed to defeat the Incarnation of Fate easily, though in a manner that can only be described as a macabre…" Gravesyn jested.

"Yes, judging from the blood stains on your attire, Lunar, I cannot imagine you having taken care of the Incarnation with care."

Lunar smirked, his eyes glinting mischievously. "I shall try my best next time, hehe… besides, is Luminia present?"

"I saw her a few moments before I came outside, I bet she's still within the main halls, doing her usual practices."

"Ah," Lunar retorted, shifting a glance at Gravesyn. "Then that's perfect. I guess we are in luck."

"Let's go," Gravesyn instigated, as she opened the door, Lunar following her trail.

-----

As they both crossed the threshold of the main hall, the air was encapsulated with tranquility. The sounds of hushed whispers mingled with the faint rustling of parchment, drawing their attention to a figure standing amidst the mid-point, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight that filtered through a grand stained glass window.

She noticed their presence, and gracefully turned toward them, a soft, haunting smile etched on her face. "What brings the both of you here?"

"Luminia, I have retrieved the Sanctified Elixir. I was fortunate enough to have come across an Incarnation not too far from here. Could you lend me a hand this time, since Imbra is not around?"

"I'm afraid I cannot help you, dear. You will have to bear with it until we've reached the next Sanctuary. I have used the remainder of my Artifacts in the recent ritual."

"Knew it… when are we planning on continuing our journey?"

Luminia's gaze turned thoughtful. "I am not quite sure, since we have recuperated steadily, it might take us less than a week to forge ahead. However, take this with a grain of salt, as we've yet to find the Great Western Cathedral."

Gravesyn stepped forward. "I was wondering about this. Considering our need to travel to the Forgotten Library, let's hope that we will be guided by the Silent One, he surely has another Artifact that Luminia or Imbra could make use of."

Abruptly, a fourth voice broke through their conversation. An imposing deep voice, that was laced with authority. "Correct, chances are he might have another Artifact."

It was Imbra, returning to their midst, accompanied by Zynphina. Lunar turned to face him, a smile of genuine joy illuminating his features. "Welcome back, Imbra!"

Imbra acknowledged Lunar's greeting with a reassuring nod before addressing them all.

"The Silent Oracle could indeed possess an Artifact that could act as a substitute for a Sanctuary. However, as we don't have someone that could guide us to the veiled Library, Zynphina and I thought it would be proper to travel to the Library of Whispers. Perhaps the fourth Oracle may guide us through, or better yet, also possess an Artifact that we could use."

"That seems like a solid plan. But since it is near nighttime, do you think they will let us through…?" queried Gravesyn.

"We will see. Leave your horses behind this time, for it lies several miles away."

Lunar looked at Gravesyn, seeking her readiness. She met his gaze, determination gleaming in her eyes. "Let us take our leaves, in that case."

As they left Luminia behind, their footsteps resounded once more, leading them back to the grand door. Zynphina stood before them, her black robe swaying gently in the wind. Her once long white hair cascaded down her back, now grown even longer, flowing like a radiant waterfall of snow. And in that moment, as the moonlight bathed her, she began her transformation...

...Her body pulsated with an otherwordly energy, and wings, resembling those of a mythical titan, unfurled with a menacing grace. The scene began to unfold, a breathtaking unison of beauty and terror, as Zynphina embraced her favorable form—Whelm. Her pale skin grew more ethereal, and her luminous silver eyes now morphed into a crimson hue, radiating an eerie glow.

With a graceful bow, Zynphina, the colossal being before them, lowered herself, her immense form bending in reverence. Her elongated arms, slim and muscular, extended outward, palms open in a gesture of invitation. Imbra took his first steps, Lunar and Gravesyn following him toward Zynphina's titanic manifestation of Whelm. They all took place amid Zynphina's palm, as she held her other hand beneath, holding them with care. And with a single bound, Zynphina propelled herself into the air, defying gravity with awe-inspiring velocity. The ground shrank beneath them as they soared through the boundless grey-coated sky, leaving behind their familiar grounds.

As the group soared through the passage of time, carried by Zynphina, their journey took them across sprawling cities and desolate ruins, each landscape blending into the next with seamless fluidity. They traversed abandoned buildings, their crumbling structures a testament to forgotten tales and abandoned histories. The wind, a loyal companion, danced through their attires and hair, casting an otherwordly glow around them, as if they were celestial beings on a divine quest.

After what felt like an eternity, they stumbled upon the Library of Whispers, nestled deep within the heart of an expansive forest. The grand structure loomed before them, its towering form evidently eroded with time, as moss and ivy clung to its weathered facade, intertwining with the branches of surrounding trees.

The library seemed to have melded with the very essence of the forest, as if nature itself sought to protect and preserve the sacred knowledge held within. A large gate, weathered and worn, marked the entrance to this sanctuary of knowledge, beckoning the group to step forward into its hallowed depths.

As Zynphina gently descended upon the ground, the vastness of their journey finally culminated in this moment. Imbra took the lead once again, his steps steady and purposeful. Without uttering a single word, he strode toward the front gate, leaving the others alongside Zynphina, who crouched her gigantic form down beneath a towering tree.

He gently extended his hand adorned in a black glove and knocked on the wooden gate. The sound echoing throughout the depths of the library's interior. Footsteps, measured and purposeful, gradually drew nearer, shattering the stillness of the library's interior. Each echo carried the weight of the ages as if the very walls whispered secrets only they could comprehend. Finally, the steps ceased, and a voice, foreign yet infused with a delicate sweetness, resonated through the air.

"The Library is not in use anymore, please, take your leave," the voice gently implored.

"We have arrived to meet the fourth Oracle, it is a duty we must fulfill, albeit a brief one," Imbra retorted.

The gate, its weathered wood groaning softly, swung open with a creak, revealing a figure cloaked in modest attire. Her fiery orange hair cascaded around her shoulders, a vibrant contrast against the muted tones of her clothing. Freckles dotted her face, enhancing the warmth radiating from her countenance. Bright green eyes, filled with both wisdom and sorrow, met Imbra's gaze as she stepped forward to greet them.

Her voice, once soft and melodic, now carried a hint of fragility, betraying the weight of her words. She looked up at Imbra, his towering figure dominating the space, and spoke with a mixture of reverence and sorrow. "The fourth Oracle has long departed this world..."

Imbra's expression twisted in disbelief, his eyes widening with an unspoken question. "What do you mean?" he responded, "How did the fourth Oracle meet their end? And at whose hands? Was it a result of the treacherous Heretic Trials?"

"The tale of his demise at the hands of the Heretic Trials is but a fabricated tale…"

Imbra's curiosity intensified. "What do you mean? What happened to him? And what about the other five Oracles? Are they still alive?"

"There is one remaining survivor of the Six Oracles, the Silent One, residing within the depths of the Forgotten Library. Thinking about his survival still seems like an otherwordly miracle to me, as this world's fate is absolute."

"That…" Imbra hesitated, knowing that their sought-after Oracle still existed brought a sense of relief in him. Yet, a lingering question still haunted his thoughts. Before he could voice it, the lady interrupted, sensing the unspoken inquiry.

"…This is your first time you have set foot upon this library, am I correct?"

"Correct… this is indeed my first time arriving here."

"Then why did you come? What compelled you to seek out the fourth Oracle?"

Imbra's eyes locked onto hers, a flicker of recognition igniting within him. Relief washed over him as he posed his question, "Your soul... it has been transformed into Nill, hasn't it?"

The lady's face contorted with a mix of sorrow and realization. "...It must be you. You are the Child of Darkness, aren't you?" she whispered.

Imbra nodded, confirming her suspicions. "Yes, I am. That is why I sought the Oracle's guidance. We are in dire need of guidance."

"Guidance for what?"

"For The Forgotten Library."

"Ah... It's… really you…" A bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of the lady's lips, tears glistening in her eyes. Her gaze shifted downward, "You… you have brought immense suffering to so, so many people… but…" Her voice wavered, and she looked up once more. "It seems that my suffering was not in vain."

Emerging from the shadows behind the lady, a young man came into view, clutching a weathered book in his hands. His gaze, cold and distant, met Imbra's with an air of skepticism. Dressed in attire akin to the lady's, his countenance turned solemn as he interjected. "Elsa, what is happening here?"

"Gratien," she responded, turning her gaze toward him. "I must ask you to do something for me."