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> "The truth is rarely found in the light. It hides in the dust of forgotten halls, waiting for the brave, or the foolish, to disturb it."
> — Veilstone Scholar's Private Musings
>
The Elder Archives of Veilstone Keep were immense, a silent monument to lost knowledge. Rows of towering shelves, heavy with ancient scrolls, thick leather-bound tomes, and strange, glowing crystals, stretched into the shadowy distance. The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment, dust, and the faint, almost electric tang of forgotten magic. In the very center of the vast, circular chamber, a huge, circular stone table stood, covered in dust, with intricate constellations carved into its surface.
And on that table, pulsating with a faint, almost imperceptible dark light, lay another fragment of the Crown. It was smaller than the one in Ash's chest, a smooth, teardrop-shaped piece of obsidian, but undeniably connected.
"Another shard," Ash whispered, his voice hushed in the vast space. The shard in his chest pulsed in response, a dull ache that was now mixed with a strange, magnetic pull towards the table. It was like two distant stars finally feeling each other's gravitational force.
Master Elara shuffled forward, his eyes fixed on the fragment. "Indeed. A memory shard. It holds not raw power, but concentrated knowledge. A direct echo of a specific truth from the Crown's shattering." He approached the table cautiously, not touching the fragment but circling it with a scholar's reverence. "This is why the Crown guided you here, Ash. It seeks to reveal its history. To awaken its memories through you."
Kael kept his hand on his sword, scanning the shadows between the towering shelves. "So, this place is safe then? No more glowing spiders or hidden traps?"
"The archives are protected by knowledge, Knight," Selene replied, her gaze moving over the ancient script on the walls of the chamber. "The true dangers here are not blades or beasts, but the truths revealed. And the influence of the Crown itself." She looked at Ash, her eyes serious. "Be careful, Ash. Each truth the Crown shows you will come with a cost."
Ash felt the truth of her words. He could feel the fragment on the table, a silent hum that seemed to call to his own. He walked towards the central table, drawn by an invisible thread. The shard in his chest burned with an eager anticipation. As he reached the table, the small, teardrop-shaped fragment pulsed brighter, responding to his presence.
"Do not touch it directly, boy," Elara warned, his voice low. "Not yet. Not until you are ready. The impact of such raw, concentrated memory could overwhelm you."
But Ash felt an undeniable urge. It was like a part of him was reaching out to a part of itself. Ignoring the warning, driven by a deeper instinct, Ash gently placed his hand on the dusty stone table, close to the fragment but not touching it.
As his skin made contact with the ancient stone, a jolt, cold and sharp, shot through him. The small fragment on the table flared with blinding black light, and the shard in Ash's chest exploded with raw energy. The hum in the chamber became a roaring symphony of voices, flooding his mind.
This wasn't a vision. This was an experience. He was standing in a place of immense, impossible beauty. A golden city of light, its spires touching the clouds, vibrated with a harmonious power. Below, a benevolent being, radiant and powerful, wore the Crown of Dominion—whole, shimmering, and perfect. It was not a tool of control, but a beacon of order, of cosmic balance. He felt a profound sense of peace, of rightness, of the universe perfectly aligned. This was the Crown's original state.
Then, the vision shattered. Not slowly, but instantly. A deafening roar, a scream of pure agony and betrayal. The golden city crumbled, falling into dust and shadow. The radiant being screamed, its form twisting, and the perfect Crown on its head pulsed with sickening light, then fractured into countless pieces, searing shards flying through the void. He felt the pain, the profound loss, the cosmic wound. And then, he saw a face. A single, distinct face, filled with malice and triumph, reaching out as the Crown shattered. It was a face he didn't recognize, but it was clear, sharp, and terrifying.
Ash gasped, tearing his hand away from the table, stumbling backward. He clutched his chest, gasping for air. The shard pulsed wildly, his whole body shaking. He felt sick, cold, and utterly overwhelmed by the raw, unburdened memory of universal harmony, followed by unthinkable destruction. The screaming in his mind slowly faded, replaced by the heavy silence of the archives.
"Ash! Are you alright?" Kael was at his side instantly, steadying him.
Selene rushed forward, her eyes wide, touching his forehead. "Too much, too soon! What did you see?"
Ash could only shake his head, still trembling, trying to process the impossible images. "The Crown... it was whole. It was… beautiful. And then… it was shattered. By a face. A man." He tried to remember the face, but it was already blurring, receding into the chaos of his mind, leaving only the chilling echo of its malice. "It was... betrayed."
Elara, his own face pale, stared at the small fragment on the table. "Betrayed? Impossible. The legends say The Sundering was a cataclysm, a magical accident of immense power." He looked at Ash, a new, unsettling fear in his bright blue eyes. "If what you saw is true, boy... if the Crown was shattered by a hand, not by fate... then everything we believed about Aerthos, about its history, is a lie."
He gestured to the surrounding shelves. "This fragment has given you a glimpse of the Prime Sundering. The very moment of the Crown's destruction. If it was an act of malice, of betrayal... then the true enemy is not a nameless force, but a living will. A will that still moves in the shadows, perhaps even now, trying to control the pieces it broke."
The revelation hung heavy in the air, a chilling new layer to their dangerous quest. The archives, once a promise of answers, now seemed to hold a darker, more terrifying truth.
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