The quiet rustle of the trees echoed in the cool afternoon air as Rey followed Meylin along the narrow path behind the old cottage. The scent of damp earth and moss clung to the air, faintly illuminated by slivers of sunlight that pierced through the leaves above. Each of Meylin's steps was slow but deliberate, her old wooden staff tapping rhythmically against the ground. Despite the battle that had just taken place, she moved with surprising steadiness for someone who had taken heavy blows earlier.
Rey glanced around. "Where are we going, Miss Meylin?" he asked, curiosity tugging at his voice.
Meylin didn't answer immediately. Her sharp eyes—those of someone who had seen more than a lifetime's worth of wonders and horrors—scanned the area. Finally, she stopped in front of a large moss-covered boulder sitting quietly among the roots of an ancient oak.
"This," she said, placing her palm on its rough surface, "is where the real knowledge begins."
Rey blinked. "A boulder?"
Meylin smirked. "That's what most people see."
She whispered something under her breath—old words in a language Rey had never heard. In an instant, the boulder began to hum softly, glowing faintly with golden light. The ground beneath them trembled, dust shaking loose from the treetops. Rey instinctively stepped back as glowing yellow lines spread from under Meylin's hand, tracing along the base of the boulder and forming strange runic symbols across its surface.
Rey's eyes widened. "What… what is that?"
Meylin stepped aside as the boulder slowly split in half, stone grinding against stone. The earth before them opened, revealing a hidden staircase spiraling downward into darkness.
"This," Meylin said, her voice steady, "is my secret. My sanctuary of knowledge."
Rey leaned forward, awe shimmering in his amber eyes. "You hid something like this under your house?"
"Yes," she replied. "Because some knowledge isn't meant for everyone. There are demons, scholars, even kings who would kill for what's down here. Some of these books hold spells powerful enough to destroy a nation—or worse, rewrite the fabric of magic itself."
Rey's throat tightened. He could sense faint traces of magic lingering in the air, old but potent, as if the books themselves were alive.
"Come," Meylin gestured. "Follow me, and watch your step."
Rey nodded and descended the stairs behind her. The air grew cooler as they went deeper, the only light coming from glowing runes embedded in the walls. After several minutes, the staircase opened into a vast underground chamber.
Rey froze.
Rows upon rows of towering bookshelves stretched in every direction. Some were made of polished oak, others of blackened steel. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and dust. Crystals hung from the ceiling, glowing faintly in different colors—blue for magical theory, green for history, red for combat arts.
"This place…" Rey whispered. "It's… incredible."
Meylin chuckled, leaning against her staff. "Took me sixty years to gather all of this. Every text here holds a piece of the world's truth. History, myths, forbidden magic—some even older than recorded civilization."
Rey walked toward a shelf labeled Arcane Practices. His fingers brushed across the spines of several books. "So… I can read anything here?"
"Anything," Meylin nodded. "But you can't take any book outside. If any of these fall into the wrong hands…" She paused, the memory of countless lost wars flashing through her old eyes. "It would be the end of us all."
Rey nodded solemnly. "Understood."
Meylin gave him a faint smile before sitting down at an old wooden table stacked with scrolls. She began flipping through a massive tome, its cover marked with strange silver runes. Rey watched her for a moment before walking to a nearby shelf titled Elemental Magics.
His gaze wandered over several titles until one caught his eye—Mystical Arts of Resurrection and Rebirth.
Rey hesitated before pulling it out. The leather cover was worn, its pages fragile and yellowed. He carefully opened it, reading the first passage aloud under his breath.
> "Resurrection Magic—one of the divine arts. A spell that defies the natural order, capable of bringing back life itself. To perform it, one must possess an immense reservoir of mana and the blessing of balance. Failure results in a severe toll—thirty years of life or more, consumed by the backlash of divine rejection."
Rey's heart pounded. Bring back life…?
He swallowed hard as memories flooded his mind—his mother's warm smile, his father's strong hand resting on his shoulder, the laughter echoing through their small home before the flames came. He could still remember the smell of burning wood, the sight of his village destroyed, and the lifeless bodies of his parents lying before him.
"If I could…" he whispered. "If I could bring them back…"
But the line about losing thirty years of life burned in his thoughts. Was it worth it? To see them again, even if it meant dying sooner?
His hands trembled as he closed the book, setting it gently back on the shelf. "Not yet," he muttered. "I'm not strong enough."
Meanwhile, Meylin continued flipping through her tomes at the far table. Despite her bruises, her focus was unwavering. The flickering crystal light reflected off her silver hair as she scanned every page for clues about Rey's mysterious mark.
Hours passed in silence, broken only by the occasional turning of pages and the soft hum of ancient magic emanating from the walls.
When Rey finally looked up, the faint orange hue of sunset was filtering through a narrow gap high in the ceiling—a vent leading to the surface.
"Miss Meylin," he called softly.
She glanced up, adjusting her glasses. "Hmm? Done reading already?"
Rey rubbed the back of his neck. "I think I've learned enough for now. Did you find anything about… this?" He raised his sleeve, revealing the red infinity-shaped mark glowing faintly on his wrist.
Meylin frowned. "Not yet. But I remember something." She closed the book and slowly stood up. "There's an ancient ruin far from here that might hold the answers you're looking for. The texts speak of symbols similar to yours—marks said to be older than the gods themselves."
Rey tilted his head. "Where is it?"
"Across the sea," Meylin replied. "In a country called Ventrez."
Rey blinked. "Another country? How do I even get there?"
She hobbled over to a map nailed to the wall. The parchment was old and yellowed, showing the wide stretch of continents surrounded by oceans. She pointed to the far west. "You're here, in Glodaria. To reach Ventrez, you have two options. You can travel by ship—it will take weeks—or use a teleporter in the other capital Greatport."
Rey's eyes followed her finger. "A teleporter?"
"Yes," Meylin said. "A massive arcane gate that can send you across the continent in seconds. But it's not cheap. The last time I checked, the toll was three platinum coins."
"Three?!" Rey's jaw dropped. "That's robbery!"
Meylin chuckled. "It's because the teleporters break easily. They were built centuries ago by ancient mages, and only a handful of engineers still know how to repair them. Each use risks malfunctioning."
Rey sighed, crossing his arms. "Guess I'll have to start saving then."
"That's the spirit." Meylin smiled faintly. She reached out and patted his shoulder. "You remind me of someone I once knew—stubborn, reckless, but with a heart that won't bend."
Rey looked down, smiling awkwardly. "Thanks, I think."
As they walked back toward the stairs, Meylin winced slightly. Rey noticed her limp. "You're still bleeding," he said softly.
She waved him off. "It's nothing. Just a scratch. I've fought demons twice your size before, kid."
Rey grinned. "You sure you don't need healing?"
"I've lived long enough without magic fixing me. Don't start now."
They both laughed lightly, the sound echoing through the underground chamber.
When they reached the surface, the last light of the sun had faded beyond the horizon. The night air was cool, the stars twinkling faintly above the dark forest canopy. Crickets chirped, and a faint breeze carried the scent of wildflowers.
Rey turned to Meylin, bowing slightly. "Thank you—for everything. For helping me, for trusting me, and… for sharing your secret."
Meylin smiled softly, her wrinkles deepening. "No, Rey. It's me who should be thanking you. If it weren't for you, that demon would've burned this entire forest down. You saved my life."
Rey rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "I just did what anyone would do."
"Anyone?" Meylin laughed. "No, kid. Not everyone would stand against a demon alone." She sighed and added, "Before you leave, tell that old fool Morgan that when I visit, I'm going to beat his ass for sending a kid to do a man's job."
Rey chuckled. "I'll make sure to tell him."
He took a few steps toward the road leading back to town. The moon hung high above, casting silver light over the forest. For a moment, he looked back at the small cottage—its windows glowing warmly against the dark. Meylin stood at the doorway, watching him like a proud grandmother.
Rey raised his hand in farewell. She waved back, smiling faintly.
Then, with the soft crunch of leaves beneath his boots, Rey disappeared into the forest shadows—his heart filled with determination, and his mind fixed on the name that would soon become his next destination.