----Page 2----
The forest was quiet after the fire. The smell of burnt wood and blood lingered in the air.
Smoke drifted between the trees, soft and gray, like the ghosts of what we had done.
Lysera stood beside me, her blade still slick with the blood of slavers. She had not spoken since the last scream faded. Her silver hair was streaked with soot, but her storm-colored eyes were as sharp as ever.
I looked down at my hands, stained red. It did not feel real. A few hours ago, I was a prisoner. Now I was free, but at what cost?
"Lysera," I said quietly.
"What exactly are you?"
She tilted her head slightly, regarding me calmly.
"I'm a Pageborn, born of the Chronicle of Origin. And it was you who summoned me."
"The book… it reacts to me."
As I pulled it closer, the warmth deepened, as if it recognized my touch.
The glow shifted as my fingers moved, dimming when I hesitated, brightening when I focused.
"That is its nature," she said, turning to face me fully.
"The Chronicle of Origin is no ordinary relic. It is a record of creation itself. Each page holds potential: life, power, memory. And you, Kinon, are its current bearer."
"Bearer," I repeated, the word heavy on my tongue.
Lysera's gaze was steady.
"You don't control the Chronicle. It chooses who it trusts. You earn that trust by growing stronger."
"So… I can't just tell it what to do?"
"No," she said.
"You guide it, not command it. And as its bearer, you must complete every page of the Codex."
"Every page?" I asked.
Lysera nodded.
"And when I finish them all, what then?"
Her eyes glimmered faintly in the dim light.
"The Chronicle will grant its bearer one wish upon completion. Anything you desire: power, riches, even the world itself."
She paused, her gaze dropping to the book in my hand.
"That's how powerful it is."
I stared at her, the words sinking in like stones.
One wish. Anything.
It sounded too good to be real, like the kind of promise that hides a price.
The light spilling from the Chronicle's edges seemed to pulse in rhythm with my heart. The warmth that once comforted me now felt heavier, as though something within was watching, waiting.
"Then… will it grant my wish if I ask to go back to my real world?"
Lysera met my eyes.
"Yes, if that is your wish."
Her words echoed between us. For a heartbeat, I almost believed it could be that simple.
Go back.
But what if the life I left behind no longer felt like mine?
The world seemed to shift around us, quieter now, yet heavier, as if the forest itself listened. Smoke drifted like a memory through the dying light, and far beyond the trees, the horizon bled gold into dusk.
"However," Lysera said, her tone steady.
"Completing all the pages will not be easy. Save your worries for later. The Codex is part of you now. Accept it, but do not rush. We, the Pageborn, exist to aid your growth."
"Growth," I muttered, half-laughing.
"What am I supposed to do, train with a sword?"
"If you wish to summon allies beyond me, yes. Power answers to strength. The Chronicle is bound by your mana, your resolve, your will to change the world."
She raised a hand, tracing the faint mark on my forehead.
"It's shaped like an open page, flickering with gold. This mark proves the Chronicle recognizes you."
"This is connected to it, isn't it?"
Lysera nodded.
"A seal. As your mana grows, so will its reach. But do not rely solely on it. The Chronicle grants power, but it also hungers for it. If you depend on it without understanding, it will consume you."
"Consume me?" I whispered.
"Yes, Master!"
"Eh!? M-Master? Me?"
Lysera nodded without hesitation.
"From this moment, I swear to protect you. As the first Pageborn you have summoned, that is my duty."
"Wait… if I complete all the pages, what happens then?"
"The Codex will grant your wish. Power, wealth, anything," she said calmly.
"So if I finish, I could wish to go back home?"
A faint, unreadable smile touched her lips.
"Yes. But be careful, Master. The Codex does not give lightly. Every wish has a price."
Before I could ask more, the forest stirred. The sound of footsteps broke the quiet.
From the edge of the clearing, a thin figure emerged: an elf boy, young and pale, his clothes torn, but his eyes bright. His hands rose quickly in surrender.
"Wait! I'm not one of them!"
I tensed, gripping the glowing Chronicle tighter. Lysera shifted, her blade half-drawn, eyes narrowing.
It was one of the freed slaves, a boy who had remained silent during our captivity.
"You," I said, recognition dawning.
"From the wagons."
The boy nodded nervously.
"A-Arin… that's my name. I… I followed you."
"Why?" Lysera's voice cut like cold wind. "Do you seek protection, or something else?"
Arin flinched.
"I don't know. I just didn't know where else to go."
"You should have," I said.
"You're free now. You don't have to follow me."
"Free?" Arin's voice trembled.
"Where would I go? I have no family left. No home. Even if I'm not bound by chains anymore, I'll just starve out there."
"Following me won't make your life better," I said quietly.
"My path leads to blood."
Arin smiled bitterly.
"Then what's the difference? I don't have a life to begin with. At least with you, I might find a reason to keep breathing."
Lysera studied him, eyes unreadable.
"He has spirit, but spirit without strength is just another chain."
I looked at the tremor in the boy's hands, the same fear that had once been mine.
"Fine," I said at last.
"But stay close."
Arin's relief was instant.
°°°
As dusk fell, Lysera halted abruptly.
"Below us," she said, scanning the earth.
"A mana disturbance."
We followed her to a cavern mouth hidden beneath roots, cold air seeping from the dark.
"Something powerful slumbers here," Lysera whispered.
"A perfect place for you to train, Master."
"Huh?... Me?... Train? No way! I'll die before I even know what to do…"
"It's a cave dungeon," Arin interrupted, his voice shaking.
"Grask used to throw useless slaves in there, to feed the monsters."
Silence.
I clenched my fists.
"Argh… alright! Let's do this. I need to get stronger, no matter what."
Lysera smiled faintly.
"At last, some resolve."
We descended into the earth, swallowed by damp air and ghostly light. Bioluminescent moss painted the stone in hues of blue and green.
The deeper we went, the louder the heartbeat beneath the rock became, ancient, waiting.
The Chronicle of Origin pulsed in my grasp, alive.
When we reached the chamber, the world opened in ruin. Shattered statues lay half-buried in dust, warriors frozen mid-battle. In the center, a pool of clear water glowed faintly.
Lysera raised her blade.
"Stay alert."
The water rippled, then burst upward.
From its depths rose a creature wreathed in darkness, eyes like molten gold. Mana rippled through the air like heat from a forge.
Arin stumbled back.
"We can't fight that!"
"You can't," Lysera replied. "But he can."
"Me!?"
"The Chronicle answers only to its bearer. Command it!"
"I don't even know how!"
"Then learn."
The beast lunged. The Chronicle's pages flared open, symbols spiraling outward. The air cracked as a barrier formed, translucent, trembling under impact. My arms shook.
Lysera moved, swift as a storm, blade flashing silver. The creature roared as her strike tore through scale and sinew.
"Focus, Master!" she shouted.
"The book answers intent, not fear!"
"I… I don't want to die!"
The Chronicle screamed with light. A spear of pure energy shot forth, striking the beast through the heart.
For a moment, there was only brilliance, then silence.
The creature dissolved into mist. I fell to my knees, trembling.
"Did I… do that?"
Lysera sheathed her sword.
"You did. Barely."
The Chronicle floated between us, pages glowing faintly before fading. Golden letters shimmered and vanished.
"It learns as you do," Lysera said softly.
"Every battle, every choice, it records your growth."
That night, we made camp near the dungeon's entrance. Lysera kept watch, while Arin sat by the fire, lost in thought.
"Back at the slave camp…" he said quietly.
"I knew Rynn would betray you, but I said nothing. I was too afraid."
I stayed silent, letting the fire crackle between us.
"I thought if I stayed quiet, I'd live," he continued.
"But everyone died anyway, and I did nothing."
Before I could respond, the Chronicle stirred. Its pages flipped open, glowing faintly in the firelight.
Arin's reflection shimmered on the parchment, and suddenly, I saw everything. His memories. His pain.
"Arin… I can see everything."
He looked up, tears in his eyes.
"Then you know what I've done."
"Yeah," I said softly.
"And I know why you're still here."
The Chronicle closed gently, light fading.
Lysera's gaze softened.
"The book recognizes him. Another soul bound by your path."
"My story," I whispered.
"Still being written."
Arin hesitated.
"So… I'm part of this now?"
I nodded slowly.
"You are. Let's make it worth reading."