The city of Avalar was never truly dark. Even under the weight of night, its veins glowed—rivers of violet and gold energy that pulsed through glass towers and humming streets. The sky trembled faintly where Aether currents flowed like invisible wind.
Connor leaned on the railing of the transit platform, eyes fixed on the shimmering horizon. The hum beneath his boots wasn't the train; it was the heartbeat of the city itself.
"Still nervous?" Deog asked beside him, voice light. He was smaller, sharper, seventeen but carrying the weight of someone twice his age. His tech goggles hung loosely around his neck, blinking faint blue.
Connor smiled faintly. "It's not every day you sign away your life to the Archive."
"You make it sound dramatic." Deog adjusted his collar. "We're not soldiers. We're recruits. Big difference."
"Right," Connor murmured, glancing at the skyline again. "Big difference."
◇◇◇
The train arrived in silence—sleek silver, seamless as liquid. Its doors hissed open, releasing a breath of cool Aether-scented air. The brothers stepped inside among other recruits: some dressed in crisp academy suits, others in patchwork street gear.
Connor's coat was worn, patched at the elbows, a contrast to the immaculate uniforms around him. Deog didn't seem to care. He was busy scanning the walls, eyes flicking over the embedded runes tracing the train's hull.
"Can you feel that?" Deog whispered.
Connor closed his eyes. The hum was everywhere, threads of power curling beneath the surface. Aether. But deeper—something else. A rhythm. A faint echo he couldn't explain.
He didn't realize the woman across from him was staring until the train shifted and their eyes met. Her uniform bore the insignia of the Archive: a seven-pointed crest shaped like a star within a circle. She smiled politely before turning away, but the emblem burned into his mind.
◇◇◇
When they arrived at the Archive's main platform, the sight made Connor's breath catch.
The Archive Tower stretched high above Avalar, piercing the clouds like a column of light. Its surface shimmered between metal and glass, alive with moving patterns of energy. The closer they got, the stronger the hum became—steady, resonant, like a heartbeat.
They were guided through mirrored corridors and scanner gates, past guards in white armor traced with Aether lines. The air smelled faintly of ozone and rain.
At the final checkpoint, a voice echoed through the hall:
"Welcome to the Archive of Order."
The words didn't sound recorded. They felt alive—like the building itself was speaking.
Deog exhaled softly. "Guess we're in."
Connor nodded, though his chest felt tight. Something in the hum had changed. It wasn't just sound anymore; it was whispering—distant, impossible words pressing at the edges of his mind.
He didn't yet understand it, but the Archive already knew his name.