Later in the day, after the meeting with Kaelith, Umino had moved out of the white room. His new quarters were not just an improvement, they were a completely different environment from the previous room and its stiff couch. The space was expansive, with a high ceiling and glass walls that looked out over courtyard gardens.
There was a bed, wide and piled with pillows in deep blues and grays. An inviting plush sofa sat facing the window. It was the room of a guest, a valued, if closely watched guest. Umino ran his hand over the soft fabric of the bedsheets, a feeling closer to relief than happiness settling in his chest.
He did not linger here though. The comfort here was a lure, but a stronger pull tugged at him. Kaelith's decree had granted him access to their Archives. Finding his way was easier than he had expected. The enclave's halls was clearly marked with symbols that he now recognized for 'Library,' 'Training Hall,' and 'Residential.' The few people who had passed him thus far had uniforms on, a gray one that wasn't similar to any clothing that he had seen before.
They nodded to him with neutrality. No one stopped him. The Archives took his breath away. It was a cavernous, multi-leveled chamber. Its air smelled of old paper. Light streamed in from high, narrow windows, and the walls were lined with shelves, made of the same warm-colored wood that accented the city. On those shelves were books. Thousands of them. Hundreds of thousands of them. Their spines had deep leathers, woven fabrics, and strange matte finishes.
He made his way to the nearest shelf, running a finger along the spines. He could read some of the titles now: 'A History of the River Plains, The Flora of the Eastern & Western Reaches.' One title however, particularly caught his attention. 'The Anomalous Phenomena of Starlite.'
"Star…lite?" He sounded out the syllables.
He found an empty spot at one of the large tables and sat down, and pulled a book at random from one of the shelves. It was a thick volume titled 'Treatises on Early Almaranian Law.' He opened it up. The paper was thick, and slightly rough under his fingertips. The ink was faded, but he could still make out the letters. He could parse about maybe one in ten words. The frustration settled in immediately, but it was a great challenge. He needed a key.
He found Kira at a desk near the entrance, writing with a precise hand. She looked up as he approached. "Are the quarters acceptable?" she asked.
"More than," he said, "thank you." He hesitated, gathering up the words. "I need….a tool. To read your books. A book that holds words, and their meanings. One word, then its definition."
Kira's face lit up with understanding. "A lexicon? Of course you can have one!" She set her pen down. "Come with me."
She led him to a reference section near the back. The shelves here held larger, more formidable volumes. She looked through the titles, her finger trailing along the spines of the books. She eventually found it, and handed it to him. It was substantial.
"This is a foundational lexicon. It contains the root words of the Almaranian language and their primary meanings, with examples of usage."
Umino accepted it. The weight was nice, but the texture of the cover made him pause. It wasn't leather, or cloth. It felt like a rough, grainy plastic, yet slightly warm to the touch, and remarkably flexible. He ran his thumb over it.
"The material is synth-hide," Kira explained, taking note of his inspection. "Its engineered to last for centuries, and is resistant to water and flame. Many of our texts here are bound in it."
Umino nodded. The text inside was in a crisp, dark font. He saw a word he recognized. His eyes scanned the entry, picking out other unfamiliar words in the definition. What he was given was a puzzle that would unlock every other puzzle.
"This is perfect!" he said.
"You may take that volume to another table, or to your quarters." Kira said. "Study is a worthy use of your time."
For the next several days, that is exactly what Umino did. He became an accessory at one of the large wooden tables, the heavy lexicon open before him, alongside a simple, leather-bound notebook and writing utensil beside it. He would read a page of definitions, then find a simpler text and struggle through it, translating it word by word, scribbling notes in his own awkward script.
He moved from understanding simple sentences to grasping paragraphs. The grammatical structures began to make sense, the dialects of the language clicking into place in his mind.
Now, it was time to tackle the book that caught his eye the most. "The Anomalous Phenomena of Starlite," he read aloud.
Starlite. The word kept on repeating in his mind. He pulled the book from the shelf with careful hands and carried it back to his table, setting it beside the lexicon. He opened the cover. The pages inside were brittle. The age of this book must be astounding, he thought to himself.
The script was the same Almaranian language, but in an older form. He had to squint, understanding the words slowly but surely.
'The Anomalous Phenomena of Starlite.'
Chapter I: The Nature of the Gift.
"Starlite is inseparable from life itself. It is the breath of potential within a living being. It is not magic itself, but the catalyst without which magic cannot exist. Consider the relationship between oxygen and flame: oxygen does not create fire, but no fire burns without it. So it is with Starlite. It is the unseen pressure between the physical world and the greater structure beyond it, a force that allows reality to be bent, but never broken."
Umino paused, then re-read the passage, absorbing this information. It seems that this was a world governed by a personal, innate energy. To him, it sounded less like a fantasy and more like a natural force, the physics of the soul.
Chapter II: The Expressions - Bearer, Shaper, Binder
"Starlite expresses itself through the individual's nature, manifesting at birth. Although each manifestation is very unique in nature, we as a society have divided it into three dominant behaviors, with an unclassified fourth."
"Bearers turn the power inward. Their magic alters the self: fortifying bone, sharpening perception, hastening thought, hardening skin. Theirs is the magic of the body."
"Shapers turn the power outward. They are the artists of reality, using Starlite to create matter, space or energy, then bending said matter, space, or energy. They are not limited by imagination, but by the stability of their will, and the world's resistance to change."
"Binders impose rules. They do not change what is; they dictate what can be. They can fix conditions and enforce rules or endings, or lock states into place. Their magic is one of precision and law, and is often highly regulated."
He kept on reading, fascinated. This was the systematics of power here. Everyone belonged to one of these categories. A new question formed in his head, a simple one. 'What am I, Bearer, Shaper, or Binder?' He concentrated, trying to feel that inner light, to try and sense its inclination. Did it want to fortify his body? To push against the world? To impose order? However, he felt nothing so definite, only the quiet of the Archives.
The final expression was titled Abnormal.
"Abnormals, are the most unknown. They do not conform to any recognized expression of Starlite, as their behavior does not follow any of these. Such expressions of Abnormals may exhibit traits of multiple classifications, or violate the assumptions that define them entirely..."
He finally closed the book, a smile finally spreading across his face for the first time in weeks. He looked around the Archives, at the worlds of knowledge contained in its books. He had a place to start.
He picked up his pencil and opened his notebook to a fresh page. At the top, he carefully wrote the word: Starlite.