The journey back to Ny'theras was tense and largely silent. Merial had a thousand questions burning in her mind, but Syrial's demeanor made it clear that this was not the time for an academic discussion. They traveled swiftly through the forest, taking shortcuts that Merial hadn't known existed, as if Syrial was concerned about being followed.
It wasn't until they reached the main road, where other travelers provided some sense of security, that Syrial finally spoke about what had happened.
"The creature you encountered is rare," she began, keeping her voice low despite the distance between them and the nearest travelers. "Most Child of Silence are mindless manifestations — echoes of the Dead Zone's disruption. But occasionally, one appears that seems to possess... intelligence. Purpose."
Merial nodded, recalling the creature's deliberate speech and actions. "It knew what I was. Called me a word-weaver."
"Yes. And that's concerning." Syrial's face was grave, the runic patterns shifting into configurations that indicated deep worry. "It suggests a level of awareness that goes beyond simple manifestation."
"What did it mean about the Dome weakening? And who is the Bearer?"
Syrial glanced around before answering, as if checking for eavesdroppers. "The Dome has always had... fluctuations. Areas where its protection is stronger or weaker. Dead Zones are the most obvious manifestation of these fluctuations."
"That's the standard explanation," Merial said, unable to keep a hint of frustration from her voice. "But it doesn't explain why a Child of Silence would speak of it 'weakening' now, specifically. Or mention a Bearer awakening."
Syrial sighed. "You're right. And you deserve more than the standard explanation." She paused, seeming to choose her words carefully. "There are... cycles to the Dome's strength. Periods of greater stability followed by periods of... let's call it 'thinning.' The University has been monitoring an increase in Dead Zone activity over the past decade. New Zones forming, old ones expanding or becoming more active."
This was already more information than Merial had been given in three years of study. "Why hasn't this been shared with researchers? With students?"
"To prevent panic," Syrial replied simply. "And because there's disagreement among the Council about what it means. Some believe it's just another cycle that will eventually stabilize on its own. Others..." She trailed off.
"Others believe what?" Merial pressed.
"That something fundamental is changing. That the Dome itself might be... evolving. Or failing."
The implications were staggering. The Dome was the constant in their world, the protective barrier that had always existed, that made life in Inhevaen possible. The idea that it could be failing was almost too terrible to contemplate.
"And the Bearer?" Merial asked, returning to the creature's other cryptic reference.
At this, Syrial's expression became even more guarded. "That's not something I can discuss freely. It involves matters beyond the University's purview. The Council will decide how much you need to know."
Merial felt a flash of indignation. "I'm not a child, Syrial. I've dedicated years to studying the Dome and its anomalies. If something is happening that relates to my research —"
Syrial interrupted, her tone sharper than Merial had ever heard it. "Beyond academic research. It involves... politics. Power. Things that the University tries to remain neutral on."
Before Merial could respond, Syrial's expression softened slightly. "I'm not trying to dismiss your concerns, Merial. Quite the opposite. What you experienced today, what you heard... it's significant. That's why we're returning to report it immediately. That's why the Council needs to hear your account directly."
The rest of their journey passed in contemplative silence. As they crested the final hill, the city of Ny'theras came into view, its crystal towers catching the late afternoon sunlight, transforming it into a kaleidoscope of colors that danced across the valley.
Under normal circumstances, the sight always filled Merial with pride and wonder. Today, it only intensified her sense of unease.
The University occupied the highest point in the city, its ancient structures predating everything around them. Unlike the newer crystal architecture that dominated Ny'theras, the University was built of stone inscribed with millions of runes — some so old that their meanings had been lost to time. It was said that the entire complex was one massive spell, a living repository of all Sylarei knowledge.
As they approached the main gates, Merial noticed something unusual: guards. The University rarely posted visible security, priding itself on being an open center of learning. Yet today, robed figures stood at attention on either side of the entrance, their faces marked with combat runes that pulsed with latent power.
Syrial nodded to them as she passed, receiving respectful inclinations of their heads in return. Merial followed closely, feeling their eyes on her back as they entered the grand courtyard beyond.
"Go to your quarters," Syrial instructed. "Refresh yourself. I'll inform the Council of our return and request an audience. They'll want to hear your account of the encounter as soon as possible."
"When?" Merial asked, suddenly feeling the fatigue of their hasty journey.
"Tonight, most likely. This isn't a matter that can wait until morning." Syrial placed a hand briefly on Merial's shoulder — a rare gesture of physical reassurance. "Prepare yourself. The Council can be... intimidating, especially when discussing matters they consider sensitive."
With that, Syrial departed toward the central tower where the Council chambers were located. Merial watched her go, then turned toward the eastern wing where the researchers' quarters were housed.
As she walked through the familiar corridors, Merial couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had changed. Not just in her understanding of the Dome or in her academic trajectory, but in the very fabric of her world. The Child of Silence words echoed in her mind: "The Dome weakens... the song changes... the Bearer awakens..."
In her quarters, Merial carefully placed her book on its special stand — a gift from Syrial upon her acceptance as a full researcher. The book seemed heavier somehow, weighted with the observations it had recorded in the Dead Zone. She ran her fingers over its cover, feeling the subtle vibration of the magic contained within its pages.
A sudden impulse seized her. The Council might take hours to convene. In the meantime, she had access to the University's vast library — the most comprehensive collection of knowledge in all of Inhevaen. If answers existed about the Bearer, about the Dome's cycles, they would be there.
Decision made, Merial quickly washed away the dust of travel and changed into fresh robes. The Archive of Recent Records would be her first stop — the section dealing with Dome anomalies and Dead Zone research from the past century.
The library was unusually empty as she entered, her footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. Rows upon rows of books, scrolls, and crystal memory matrices stretched in all directions, organized according to a complex system that only dedicated scholars fully understood. Merial made her way confidently through the labyrinth, heading for the section she knew contained the records she sought.
But when she arrived at the familiar alcove, she found her path blocked by a shimmering barrier of energy — a warding spell. A simple notice hung in the air before it: "Section temporarily closed for cataloging."
Merial frowned. The Archive of Recent Records was never closed. It was one of the most frequently accessed sections of the library, essential for ongoing research across multiple disciplines.
She glanced around, confirming that she was alone, then carefully traced a revealing rune in the air. The symbol glowed briefly before dissolving into the barrier, causing it to become transparent for a moment. Beyond, Merial could see that the Archive appeared untouched — no librarians cataloging, no work being done at all. Just rows of books sitting undisturbed on their shelves.
The barrier solidified again, blocking her view. This was no routine closure. The Archive had been deliberately sealed off.