Eryndor didn't sleep that night. The golden vial sat on his desk, glowing faintly, as if impatient to be used again. His mind raced with questions.
What was that flower?
Where did it come from?
And what did that voice mean… "future that never was"?
He decided to test the vial again. Carefully, he uncorked it and let a single drop fall on a withered plant in the corner of his room. The plant shivered, then bloomed instantly, petals shining like molten gold.
Eryndor's heart leapt—but then came the first ripple. Across the village, a memory shifted. His neighbor, Old Mara, reached for her tea and froze mid-motion. Her cat, which had run outside only minutes ago, now slept on the windowsill.
The world was… different.
That's when the knock came.
Eryndor froze. No one ever knocked at this hour. Cautiously, he opened the door to find a figure cloaked in black, their face hidden beneath a hood.
"You are Eryndor, Archivist," the figure said, voice calm but edged with authority. "Do you know what you have done?"
Eryndor took a step back. "I… I don't know what you mean."
The figure raised a hand. In a flash, a small orb of light appeared between their fingers. Inside, Eryndor saw a scene—a forest burning, villagers running, and a golden flower dissolving into nothing.
"That flower," the figure said, "was meant to exist… in another time. By pulling it into the present, you erased its future. The Archive has noticed. The balance is shifting."
Eryndor's mind spun. Balance? Archive? "I didn't mean to—It was just a flower…"
The figure shook their head. "Intent does not matter. Pulling from the Archive changes the world. You have power no one else should wield… and with it comes responsibility—or destruction."
Eryndor's stomach sank. "Then… what happens now?"
The figure's eyes glinted beneath the hood. "Now… you learn. Others will come. Some to guide you. Some to stop you. And the world… will test you. Every pull you make, every future you claim, has a cost."
Before Eryndor could ask more, the figure vanished, leaving behind only a single piece of advice:
"Never take more than you can bear… or the future may devour the present."
Alone again, Eryndor stared at the glowing vial. The weight of his actions pressed on him. He had tasted power—but now he understood the danger. Every choice, every pull, would have consequences he could not undo.
And somewhere, beyond the clouds, the Archive watched.