28 March 1686 of the 6th Era, St Madeleine’s Cathedral, West District

  Antony, basking in the rays of the morning sun in front of St Madeleine’s Cathedral, tried, but failed to suppress a wide yawn, somewhat regretting the fact that they agreed to meet this early in the morning. At least the square was mostly empty. Just a couple passers-by on some errand or other and an equally sleepy-looking elderly man sweeping the area next to a small cafe.

  Every time Antony passed by the church, he couldn’t help but pause to spend a minute or two just admiring the architecture. While surrounded by equally elegant buildings, it was always first to attract attention, having a commanding presence in the square. Antony’s gaze travelled along the strict elegant lines that defined the entire structure of the building, going from the foundation to the large front doors to the belltower with its pointed roof piercing the skies. It then returned to the large stained glass window, which also happened to be the only really prominent decoration. Intricate lines and glass of different colours formed into a picturesque image of a red lily, the Lady’s symbol, surrounded by the white moon. At that moment, a flock of pigeons that had been nesting on the roof took off, flew across the plaza and landed in front of an elderly lady that was throwing seeds on the ground.

  “Quite the sight, isn’t it?” Charlotte waved her hand as she approached him. Unlike Antony, she looked chipper and in high spirits. Even the black sombre dress couldn’t hide that. “Did something happen? You look like you barely got any rest.”

  “Not having to work can do that to a person,” he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Frankly speaking, I don’t usually have much time for myself, and when I do get time off, I often don’t know what to do with it.”

  “A workaholic after my own heart,” she sighed. “I know that feeling. First day of vacation, and you’re too nervous to get any proper rest. Last day of vacation, and you feel like you had no time to rest at all, because your body is only now finally realising that there was no need to do anything, just relax and enjoy life.

  “Still, you look awful. Like someone who spent the entire night walking from one corner of the room to the other and reconsidering their life choices.”

  “You haven’t been spying on me, have you? Ouch,” he rubbed his side that had just received a jab from Charlotte’s elbow. “Less about life choices, and more about… Let’s talk inside,” he stopped smiling. “There is something that’s been troubling me. I hate to admit it, but I think I need your help way more than you need mine. I would even go as far as say that I have a feeling you don’t really need my help at all.”

  “That’s not true,” she shook her head. “You’ve been incredibly helpful, and not just by allowing me to see the crime scene. I would never have gotten this far this quickly.”

  “I wasn’t trying to get praise for what I’ve done.”

  “I know,” her fingers brushed against his hand as she passed him, leaving a pleasant chilling sensation. “Let’s go. If it’s in my power to help you, I will.”

  “You do realise that,” he began, but instantly knew that anything he had to say about that little gesture or generally about her behaviour just now would fall on deaf ears. Stepping swiftly and lightly, almost like a fairy from one of those children’s tales, she walked through the arched portal and entered the building, and all Antony could do was try to keep up with her pace.

  The interior of the cathedral was, in many ways, much more fascinating than the facade. And it had nothing to do with decorations, for apart from the stained glass window, there were none inside the building, either. The Lady of the Dead Moon was a goddess who instilled asceticism in her followers, loathing the pompous gold and intricate silver that was so common in, for example, churches devoted to the Lady of Magic. There were no figurines of cherubs or little dragons, no statues of saints, no holy writings carved in stone. The statue of the goddess herself was also nowhere to be found. Only tall pillars to support the seemingly endless ceiling, simple wooden benches, and candles lit in memory of the departed.

  Death did not require admiration or adoration. All it wanted was peace and silence. And this was what this building provided in full. Despite the high ceilings and the large size of the hall, there was no echo to carry their footsteps or voices. Antony was never certain if it was just the acoustics of the premises or if some sort of intricate spell was involved in achieving this effect. Nor did he care to find out. Sometimes it was all about the mystery, not the answers.

  “Show the way,” Charlotte made a small praying gesture towards the lily, and Antony followed her example.

  “You’ve never been here?”

  “Once, on the day of my arrival to Ledavia. They had a briefing here regarding a different case. I have no idea where anything is, though.”

  “I feel like there’s a very intricate joke hidden here.”

  “Oh, for sure,” she agreed, following him down the aisle.

  “Are you certain we won’t be stopped?” Antony eyed one of the priests who were busy talking to a group of elderly women turn to look their way, seemingly trying to decide if she should approach the two newcomers.

  Charlotte sighed and raised her hand, conjuring the large staff she had the other day. Every member of the clergy instantly lost any interest in the pair.

  “As easy as that?”

  “Only three people in this entire world, you included, know what I am,” she whispered. “This staff, though, marks me as a high ranking official. Every cardinal uses a similar design.”

  “I thought yours was unique.”

  “It is in the sense that it carries Her spark,” Charlotte readily agreed. “Do you know in whose honour this cathedral was built?”

  “Your predecessor. A young village girl, born somewhere in the Third Era, who saved her people from a plague. She invented a number of life saving spells before becoming Her avatar at the age of 36. If my memory serves me right, that happened after she fought off an incredibly ferocious undead, some sort of lichdom gone bad.”

  “Did you get that information from one of our files?”

  “Actually, no. I specialise in the history of the Third Era, remember? I might not teach anymore, but I’m still very active in the field of research,” his eyes seemed to light up with excitement as he said that. “St Madeleine was a prominent historical figure both while she was still herself and after she became Her avatar. It saddens me that she perished in the middle of the Fourth Era. The knowledge she could’ve shared with mankind…”

  “What knowledge, Mr Levy? She was an empty husk at that point. She died at the age of 36, fighting a ghoul, and then became a living, breathing doll. All lights are burning, but no one is home. I’ll be the same at some point. Sleeping forever, no need for food or water. Only wake up when She deems it necessary, but it won’t really be me,” she looked up at the ornamental window, observing the sun rays shine through, taking on different colours. “It will be Her will manifested on the Mortal Plane.”

  “I thought gods couldn’t interfere with the lives of mortals.”

  “Mostly not, but there are exceptions. When creatures from the Abyss break the barrier, for example. Or when mortals do something that requires divine intervention. Sometimes it’s just… Whatever reason, really. The ‘don’t interfere with the lives of mortals’ is more of a suggestion rather than a truly strict rule,” she shrugged her shoulders. “However, they still need an avatar to do so. Bringing down their full might, appearing in their true form… No mortal can withstand that, and the fabric of reality itself might begin to fray from the strain.”

  They reached the other side of the hall, and Antony pointed towards a small sturdy door on the side.

  “There’s a number of glyphs and detection spells on it, obviously,” he pointed out. “I hope you don’t expect me to bypass them?”

  “No need,” she walked up to the door and pressed her hand on the handle. Antony saw the tips of her fingers become translucent for a moment, as if they were woven from starlight, and all of the spells guarding the door unravelled, opening the path forward.

  Behind the door awaited complete and utter darkness. Even for an elf, it was impossible to discern anything further than a step away, if that. Antony snapped his fingers, creating a bunch of tiny lights that swirled around them, showing the way. Charlotte traced her fingers along the thick stone walls, looking around with newfound interest.

  “This really is much older than the cathedral,” she finally uttered.

  “I wondered myself, but never bothered to research the origins of this place,” Antony nodded. “I was hoping you’d have some knowledge on this.”

  “A bit,” she stopped in front of a seemingly endless winding staircase that led further down, into the underground portion of the building. “Originally, the main depository was situated on the Southern Continent, in a now lost kingdom of Heshil. Certainly you would be familiar with it.”

  “A tiny kingdom bordering Katech, the latter a prosperous land with a mono religion, worshipping magic and the Lady of Magic with it,” Antony nodded. “Formed towards the middle of the Third Era as a result of a larger kingdom being divided following a civil war. I could go on, but I don’t think a lecture on politics of that time is what you actually want to hear from me.”

  “Let’s leave it for another time,” she covered her mouth, coughing. Or pretending to cough? “I doubt I need to tell you what befell that continent towards the end of the Third Era. Given your skills, you might have even witnessed it.”

  If only you knew, Antony laughed at the remark, “I am afraid that is an example of a place I cannot visit as easily. Actually, I wouldn’t dare travel to that time at all. Kirchbaum village is a child’s prank compared to what happened there.”

  “I’d be very surprised if you answered differently. Either way, most of those documents were lost, but whatever little could be saved, was brought to the far North. Obviously, Ledavia did not exist back then, being founded in the middle of the Fourth Era, but there was already an outpost of the church here, dealing with an undead outbreak that followed after the Great Flood. I’m not sure how or why it was decided to relocate the archives to this part of the continent, but I guess partially it was due to the desire to stay as far from whatever remained of the Southern Continent as possible, and partially… Because it was way easier to keep this place a secret, at least until some cleric got drunk and started spreading rumours.”

  “I don’t think many know about the archives even nowadays. I may or may not have accidentally overheard something an aforementioned drunk cleric had said, but it wasn’t in a tavern, or any kind of public space.”

  “And you still dare tell me that you barely do any fieldwork and mostly sit in your office analyzing documents brought to you by actual agents,” Charlotte scoffed.

  “This is what I usually do,” he replied levelly.

  “If you say so. This is not the only archive that we have, just the oldest surviving one. While this one is a bit special, given what information it contains, most of the time anyone who needs something can request access and be granted access,” Charlotte absently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “There are, of course, files with much stricter restrictions, and sections that are closed off for everyone but the cardinals. And in some cases, for anyone but the current Destined Avatar, if she exists.”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  “What are we even looking for?”

  “Nothing that would be stored in any of the restricted sections. Just records of the conflict on the Eastern Archipelago from around thirty or so years ago. Or, rather, my involvement in it.”

  “I don’t remember seeing anything like that in your file,” Antony replied dubiously.

  “They would have been added to the files pertaining to the mission I took part in, to not attract attention,” Charlotte opened yet another door guarded by a plethora of warding spells, and they finally entered the archives proper. “The ones in Lindau aren’t this big.”

  There was such awe in her voice that Antony had to briefly turn away from her, unable to stop himself from smiling like a child who let his best friend in on some magical secret. “I had a very similar reaction when I first reached them. I have a feeling they’re using the same spells as in the Forbidden Library to create additional space where none should be found.”

  “If it occupied the actual territory, it would…”

  “Span across half of the Western District, probably,” Antony helped her. “Possibly even further. I’ve never reached the opposite side of the room.”

  “It was a good idea to ask you to come with me.”

  “I don’t exactly,” she glared at him, and Antony quickly continued, “I’m not trying to weasel myself out of this, don’t misunderstand. I have a vague idea as to where we should at least begin our search. Uhm, wouldn’t it have been easier to ask Cardinal Whitesand for directions?”

  “Do you want to waste an hour listening to his woes about yesterday?”

  “No. But I am kind of curious as to how he managed to explain it,” he admitted after a moment’s silence.

  “Knowing him, it involved having a pint or two of the best ale in the city with the present head of the local Nightmare Poets’ branch, and then providing the agents who were at the scene with an explanation even a child wouldn’t believe.”

  “Ah. Make it sound so dumb that they create their own theories. The old and tried tactic.”

  “Sometimes it backfires, but even then it is wiser to let people create their own narrative,” Charlotte reasoned as she continued to stand still, breathing in the ancient air and marvelling at the surroundings. “The most they’ll think is that I am concealing a powerful artefact of the Church. Or, perhaps, that it was a rare case of true divine intervention. The Lady of the Dead Moon was having an exceptionally bad day and I offered her a place to live out that frustration.”

  “And even if someone gets the right idea, they will immediately dismiss it. After all, the last one perished during the Fourth Era, and She never graced the land with her presence since. For a lot of people, a Seer is as much a myth as, say, a Dream Larva.”

  He saw her shudder at the drop of the name.

  “I sincerely hope that for most people, the latter indeed remains but a horror story told at a campfire,” she quietly said.

  “Now that you’ve mentioned it, does the church actually have any truly powerful artefacts in its possession?” He decided to change the topic.

  “Ha. You’re looking at one.”

  “I mean…”

  “I’m talking about this thing,” Charlotte raised her staff slightly. “Obviously there are more. You’ve not been to that section of the archives I take it?”

  “I’m a spy, not a thief. I had no direct need to do that,” Antony shrugged his shoulders and started walking along the shelves that disappeared into the distance high above their heads. The light from his spell, while bright, was barely enough to illuminate the space a couple of yards around them.

  For a while, they moved silently, trying to disturb the ancient dust on the floor as little as possible. Sometimes, Charlotte would stop to examine a thing or two on a shelf they happened to be passing. There were ancient documents, statuettes, all sorts of other knick-knacks gathered during different cases that the church had worked on. Some of them were evidence, others supposedly purified items, and then some again were taken for safekeeping as they had historical value.

  “I’m surprised there aren’t any items that are still cursed,” Antony commented, examining the little snow globe that Charlotte was pointing at. According to the attached note, it used to be a cursed item that captured a family of four and their cat in an unending Solstice celebration. It took a group consisting of five Nightmare Poets, three exorcists from the Church of the Dead Moon, and two clerics from the Church of the Lord of Justice to finally break the curse and deal with the one who caused it to begin with. A neighbour of the family who grew jealous of them.

  “Oh, there are some. Those would be kept separately.”

  “Really?”

  “Not everything can be purified immediately,” Charlotte said somewhat darkly. “There are cases where even I am of no help. Some grudges run so deep that no matter how powerful an exorcist and how pure their desire to help, the only thing one can do is contain the threat until the right method is finally found. And that can take hundreds, sometimes even thousands of years.”

  “Have you really encountered something like that in the course of your work? Forgive me if I sound sceptical. Hard to believe after yesterday’s feat.”

  “Believe it or not, but it has happened. I can only channel a fraction of Her power, and even that fraction takes a huge toll on my body. You saw the aftermath. This is also why I rarely deal with what you would call an ‘average’ case. I can help solve them, but you won’t see me use magic,” Charlotte picked up a folder from the shelf and leafed through its content. “Have you heard of the Daffodil village curse?”

  “Nothing immediately comes to mind, I am afraid.”

  “I’m glad,” she placed the folder back and suddenly shivered.

  “Cold?”

  “More so a bad memory. That village is an example of one such place where I was completely powerless to help. Or, rather,” she paused, looking into the darkness in front of them, “where in order to be of help I more than likely would have had to give up my life. But I doubt even that would’ve gotten people their desired finale.”

  Antony waited for a bit, unsure if she wanted to leave it be or continue, even though he at that point was brimming with morbid curiosity.

  “It happened some seventy years ago, give or take,” she finally uttered, probably having deciphered his emotions. “A bit after Ethan’s passing, but before that fateful trip to the Eastern Archipelago. The church received a request for aid from the local branch of the Nightmare Poets. It seemed rather benign at first. Something akin to the quieting sickness, only that it wasn’t just elvenkind affected by it, but also humans, gnomes, dwarves… Initially it was feared that the sickness was spreading to other species, but it soon became apparent that something much more sinister was at hand.”

  “You mentioned a curse already.”

  “Yes. A travelling merchant had appeared in the village a few days prior, selling all sorts of things as these chaps do. Among others was something he called a ‘wishmaking set’. Write down your greatest desire on a sheet of paper using this special quill and ink, then burn it, and it will come true.

  “And it did. Someone’s loved one recovered from a seemingly incurable illness the very next day the wish was made. Obviously everyone wanted to buy the ink and quills after that. And the next day, the man vanished without a trace.”

  “I take it this is where things took a turn for the worse,” Antony felt a chill run down his spine. The darkness surrounding them, if only for a fleeting moment, became much thicker. As if something was hiding in it. Listening, calculating, waiting to pounce. He shook his head, getting rid of the feeling. Surely it was nothing more than Charlotte’s tone of voice and a slightly eerie atmosphere. Only to be expected in this vast expanse devoid of life and human presence.

  “Not quite. It went well for them at first. Small things that people would typically wish for. Good weather, a bit of wealth, for family and friends to stay healthy,” she paused. “Then, someone just fell asleep in the middle of the street and never woke up. Another one was found in the middle of the field. A third one collapsed as she was entering the church in a neighbouring village. That’s when the Nightmare Poets were informed of the situation.

  “The ink turned out to be quite an elaborate mix, and the quills were enchanted to sap out the very souls of people. They were essentially writing down wishes with their own life force. Sadly, by the time we came it was already too late for many, and there was nothing I could do to revert it. The curse was running so deep that all we could do was let these people pass away in peace.

  “The merchant was found several months later when he tried to do the same thing in another remote location.”

  “What was he trying to achieve by all of this?”

  “Oh, that’s a whole new horror story. He was trying to rewind time.”

  “That’s…”

  “What you mentioned the other day, yes. One can achieve that. Changing history is possible, be it by completely changing the present and the future or by creating an alternate timeline, but the price to do so is crazy,” Charlotte nodded. “He was willing to pay it. Rambled something about the world not being right, or not whole, or twisted, I don’t really remember. I wasn’t on the main team of investigators, I was there merely as an observer as She took interest in the matter, and most definitely not without reason.”

  “Why could you not lift the curse? From your explanation, it feels like he was just a human dabbling in necromancy with a single goal in mind.”

  “It was simply too far gone. Their souls were mostly depleted at that point. Lifting that curse… In order to lift it, I would have had to give them back what they had lost. Not impossible, but that’s a level of divine intervention where a Destined Avatar is of no help.”

  “I see,” Antony said glumly, feeling his heart skip a beat.

  “We were at least able to dispose of all the ink and quills, so there’s no mountain of those things being kept somewhere in the Lindau archives,” she finally smiled as she said that. “Not sure what the containment measures for those would have been otherwise. Nor where we’d have to put them in order to avoid someone accidentally grabbing one of those because they needed to quickly write something down.”

  “Especially considering the hassle one must go through to bring their own writing tools,” Antony observed. “And if they had to walk as far as we do.”

  “True. How far do we need to go, do you reckon?”

  “By my estimates we’re almost there,” he looked at the numbering on the nearby shelf. “Good that you people at least keep things tidy and organised.”

  “I hear a personal story coming.”

  “Not much of a story, really. The entirety of Royal Alchemy Society’s accounting and records keeping survives on thoughts, prayers, and a dream,” Antony couldn’t hide a grin. “You should visit one day, I’m certain you’ll find the place an impressive mess.

  “We try to organise it as best as we can, but the RAS is just that, a monster with eight legs, five tails, three heads, and so many wings you’ll start the count nine times over and finally give up.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “Years of experience. It’s just that it has a huge number of branches, laboratories, and other facilities. There can be three different people overseeing a single project, or one person overseeing five. All of those projects have different durations, some of them can be abandoned due to lack of interest or knowledge, and then at some point restarted because there was finally a breakthrough in the field. It’s one of those cases where somehow, it works. Somehow, we manage to properly oversee budgets, safety measures, and solve other issues. But I still wish it were way more organised.

  “Oh, I think this is the one we’re looking for,” he abruptly stopped, pointing at the shelf to the right. “Hopefully we won’t need a ladder.”

  “I’m not afraid of heights if need be,” Charlotte, too, looked up. The upper shelves were concealed by darkness. “Let’s start with the ones we can reach and go from there. We’re looking for the special mission to the Eastern Archipelago, November of 1655 to March of 1657.”

  “Is there some sort of codename I should be looking for perhaps?”

  “Don’t think so,” she shook her head. “We don’t usually use those. Just anything with the right dates and the location mentioned in it.”

  “Alright.”

  They each chose a shelf and slowly started sorting through the carefully arranged files. Charlotte sneezed as she carelessly picked up an especially dusty folder. She quickly leafed through it, but not seeing the right keywords, continued to the next one, and then another one.

  “What was it that you wanted to talk about?” She put down yet another report, this time regarding an undead outbreak on the Southern Islands.

  “Remember I said there’s been a phenomenal amount of work as of late?”

  “You seemed very reluctant to leave the office, yes.”

  “I am still not sure if I should have, but there’s no arguing with Andrew. He essentially threw me out,” Antony grinned, but his tone remained serious. “Issue is, I’m all but certain that someone is trying to sabotage the RAS.”

  “If you can get whatever documents you think could be related to it, I can help you look through them,” Charlotte carefully offered after some consideration. “I’m a foreign entity, remember?”

  “I took that into account,” he nodded. “You won’t be mentioned anywhere. Frankly, I don’t want my name to be mentioned anywhere, either.”

  “Do you have any idea as to who or why might be doing it?”

  “I do have some ideas as to who, at least I managed to narrow down my list to a dozen or so people, but I cannot understand why. Not yet, at least,” he brushed the dust off another folder and turned a few pages without much thought. Until a particular word caught his attention. “I think I found it. Eastern Archipelago, right years, and your name is mentioned,” he turned towards her to show her the page, but as he did so, he felt the air around them move ever so slightly. They were not alone anymore. “Look out!”