Eryndor spent the next few days in quiet isolation. The golden vial sat untouched, but the memory of Riven's warning and demonstration haunted him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw futures collapsing, trees twisting, rivers hesitating—reminders that even small pulls carried weight.
Then, a soft light appeared in his room. It wasn't the harsh glare of the sun or the warm glow of a candle—it was something… otherworldly. The light coalesced into a floating, translucent figure, elegant and calm.
"Eryndor," it said, voice like a chime. "You are ready to learn."
"Who… who are you?" Eryndor asked, heart racing.
"I am the Archive's guide. I exist to teach Archivists the rules of their power. You have already felt the consequences of unrestrained pulling. Now, you will learn control."
The guide extended a hand. Suddenly, Eryndor was no longer in his room. The walls dissolved, replaced by an endless library of golden light. Shelves stretched infinitely in every direction, filled with glowing books and objects that seemed… almost alive.
"This is the Archive," the guide explained. "Every possible future that has ever existed—or could have—rests here. Some are safe to observe, some are volatile, and some… dangerous beyond imagining. You can pull from them, but only one small piece at a time. And you must always measure the cost."
Eryndor nodded, swallowing hard. "How do I know the cost?"
The guide gestured, and a small orb appeared in front of him. Inside, he saw a tiny scene: a boy from Eldenbrook tripping and falling, a minor injury… then, when a golden flower appeared in the scene, the boy's path changed, and the town experienced a small ripple of chaos.
"Every pull," the guide said, "alters something, somewhere. Even something small. Your actions echo. Learn to anticipate them. Learn to measure them. Only then can you use your gift safely."
Eryndor looked at the glowing vial in his hand. He realized that curiosity alone would not save him—or the world. He had to study, practice, and respect the limits of his power.
"And one more thing," the guide added, voice dropping slightly, "Riven is watching you. He pulls without restraint. You will encounter him again. And next time, you may not get a warning."
The light dimmed, and Eryndor was back in his room, the vial before him, glowing softly.
He exhaled. For the first time, he felt the weight of responsibility—not just for himself, but for the world.
Tomorrow, he would begin learning. And when Riven came again… he would be ready.