The Eternal Archive shimmered in the twilight of its infinite spires, the light bending and fracturing as though it mirrored the minds of those within. Beatrix sat on a ledge near one of the central wings, her legs dangling over the edge as she stared into the kaleidoscope of shifting timelines below. The translucent strands of memory, twisting and weaving like threads of a tapestry, seemed to hum faintly, as if whispering secrets only she could hear.
A small silver cat—the Wonder-Cat—curled at her side, its luminous eyes reflecting the ever-changing light. It purred softly, though the sound carried an ineffable melancholy, as if it, too, shared in the weight of her thoughts.
"Still no word?" Hypatia asked, stepping out of the shadows. Her expression was gentle, but the tension in her voice betrayed her worry.
Beatrix didn't look up, her gaze fixed on the swirling patterns below. "Nothing yet. But I would know if something had happened to him."
Hypatia hesitated, her hands clasped before her. "You trust him to make it through, even in a place like the Plains?"
Beatrix smiled faintly, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Trust has nothing to do with it. He's too stubborn to fail."
The cat stretched lazily, its silver fur rippling like liquid light, before curling back into itself. Beatrix reached down to scratch behind its ears, her expression softening. "And besides, he's never truly alone."
It was during one of the rare lulls in the Archive's activity that the message came. A crystalline shard, faintly glowing with chaotic energy, drifted into Beatrix's hand as if drawn to her. She turned it over, her fingertips brushing against the etched symbols, and her expression hardened.
"From the Forgotten Plains," Hypatia murmured, stepping closer. Her gaze flicked to the shard, her brow furrowing. "His sigil still binds him. That much is clear."
Beatrix held the shard up to the light, the fractured image within resolving into a fleeting glimpse of Thales—standing amidst chaos, his Umwelt sparking violently as the sigil on his chest flared. The scene faded quickly, leaving only the faint hum of the shard in its wake.
"He's alive," Beatrix said softly, her voice steady but laced with a quiet intensity. "But the sigil's grip is stronger than I expected."
Hypatia frowned. "Do you think he'll break free of it?"
Beatrix's smile returned, softer this time, though her crystal-glassy sky eye gleamed with something ineffable. "He will. When the time is right."
Later, as the Archive settled into its usual rhythm of quiet motion, Beatrix returned to her perch by the ledge. The cat had wandered off into the labyrinthine halls, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She closed her eyes, the hum of the Archive resonating with her own inner rhythm.
The Mystery felt distant here, obscured by the layers of preserved memory and history that the Archive sought to protect. And yet, in Thales, it burned brightly—an ember amid the chaos of the Forgotten Plains. She could feel its pull, the way it wove through him like a thread binding him to something far greater.
"Stubborn boy," she murmured, a faint laugh escaping her. "You're chasing the impossible, and somehow, you're making it seem inevitable."
The thought brought a sense of peace, though it was tinged with an ineffable sorrow. Beatrix knew her role as his guardian and friend was to watch from afar, to let him forge his own path. But the distance between them, though necessary, weighed on her in moments like this.
She opened her eyes, her gaze drifting to the shifting timelines below. "Keep going, Thales," she whispered. "Even if you don't know it yet… you're getting closer."