A new determination took hold of Merial. If the standard routes to information were being blocked, she would find alternative paths. There was another section of the library, one that few students knew how to access: the Central Archive of Lost Words. It contained texts deemed too obscure, too ancient, or too potentially dangerous for general access.
Merial had discovered its entrance during her second year, while assisting Syrial with research on pre-cataclysm verbal structures. She had never entered alone, had never dared to browse its contents without supervision. But now, with questions burning in her mind and conventional sources blocked, the temptation was irresistible.
The entrance to the Central Archive was hidden behind a seemingly ordinary bookshelf in the history section. Merial approached it casually, pretending to browse nearby shelves while ensuring no one was watching. Then, quickly, she traced a specific sequence of runes on the spine of a particular volume — "Etymological Evolutions Post-Sundering."
The bookshelf shimmered slightly, the books upon it becoming insubstantial. Merial stepped through the illusion, finding herself in a narrow corridor that spiraled downward into the depths beneath the library.
The air here was different — cooler, charged with preservative magic that protected the ancient texts from decay. Merial descended cautiously, her way lit only by the soft glow of preservation runes embedded in the walls.
At the bottom of the spiral, a vast circular chamber opened before her, its ceiling lost in shadows above. Unlike the organized precision of the main library, this space had a more organic arrangement. Books, scrolls, and artifacts were grouped not by subject or time period, but by some system Merial had never fully grasped — perhaps by the type of power they contained or the danger they represented.
She moved carefully through the chamber, drawn to a section that seemed to pulse with a subtle blue light. As she approached, she saw that the glow came from a collection of texts bound in what appeared to be thin sheets of Shyrr — crystallized fragments of the Dome itself.
"The Dome Dialogues," Merial read from the spine of one volume. "Transcriptions of the Seventh Conclave."
She reached for it, then hesitated. Accessing the Central Archive without permission was already a serious breach of protocol. Actually reading its contents, especially texts bound in Shyrr, could result in her expulsion from the University.
But the memory of the Child of Silence words pushed her forward. She needed to understand what was happening — what might be coming. With a deep breath, she took the book from its shelf and opened it.
The pages inside were not paper but some thin, flexible crystal that seemed to shift and flow beneath her gaze. The text itself was written in an archaic form of the Sylarei runic language, one that Merial had studied but never mastered. Still, she could make out enough to understand the general content.
The book appeared to be a record of discussions among representatives of all seven races, held centuries ago. They spoke of the Dome, of its nature and purpose. And they spoke of something called "the Cycle of Awakening" — a periodic event when the Dome's strength would wane and a Bearer would emerge.
Merial's heart raced as she read further. According to the text, the Bearer was not a title or a role, but a person — specifically, an Olkhar who would manifest abilities beyond the normal range of their race. Someone who could communicate directly with the Dome itself.
And the last recorded emergence of a Bearer had been over five hundred years ago.
She was so engrossed in her reading that she didn't notice the approach of another presence until a shadow fell across the page. Merial looked up with a start, finding herself face to face with Elder Virell, one of the most senior members of the University Council.
The ancient Sylarei's face was a map of complex runic patterns, some so old and deeply embedded that they had become permanent features rather than the shifting expressions most Sylarei displayed. Her eyes, however, were sharp and clear, fixing Merial with a gaze that seemed to pierce through all pretense.
"Researcher Merial," Virell said, her voice surprisingly strong for one so ancient. "You seem to have lost your way."
Merial closed the book quickly, though she knew it was far too late to hide what she had been doing. "Elder Virell. I was just —"
"Accessing restricted texts without authorization," Virell finished for her. "Seeking information about matters beyond your clearance level. After being told explicitly by your mentor to wait for the Council's decision on what you should know."
There was no point in denial. "Yes, Elder. But only because I believe this information is relevant to what I encountered today. The Child of Silence spoke of the Bearer awakening, and I —"
"Know far less than you believe you do," Virell interrupted again, her tone hardening. "And are meddling with forces far more dangerous than you can comprehend."
The elder extended her hand. "The book, please."
Merial reluctantly surrendered the volume, watching as Virell returned it to its place on the shelf with reverent care.
"The Council is assembled," Virell said, turning back to Merial. "They await your testimony regarding today's encounter. But I must now question whether you can be trusted to report only what you saw and heard, without embellishment or... independent research."
"I would never falsify a report," Merial said, stung by the implication.
"Perhaps not intentionally. But knowledge colors perception, Researcher Merial. And you have just acquired knowledge that may taint your recollection of events." Virell sighed, the sound carrying centuries of weariness. "Come. The Council waits. And after you have given your testimony, we will discuss the consequences of your unauthorized exploration."
As Virell led her back up the spiral staircase, Merial's mind raced. She had found confirmation of what the Child of Silence had spoken about — the Bearer, the weakening of the Dome. But instead of answers, she now had even more questions. And potentially, a serious mark against her academic career.
Yet somehow, as they emerged from the hidden entrance and made their way toward the Council chambers, Merial couldn't bring herself to regret her actions. Something momentous was happening — something that affected not just her research, but potentially all of Inhevaen. And despite the Council's apparent desire to control this information, Merial was now certain of one thing: she needed to learn more, whatever the cost.
The Bearer was awakening. And somehow, Merial suspected that her path would soon cross with theirs — for better or worse.