Elder Zephyrus inclined his staff in reluctant agreement. "Very well, Ravan. If you take responsibility for this 'Vessel,' then take him to the Archives. But remember… those walls have not heard a sound in thousands of years. Teach him respect there."
Ravan gave a brief nod and turned to Kyle. "Follow me. And keep your footsteps light. Words float in the air here—do not disturb them."
As they stepped out of the grand court and turned into a narrow, glowing corridor, Ravan's demeanor shifted. The hardened aura of a warrior faded, replaced by the quiet dignity of a solemn scholar. From his waist, he drew a heavy ring of brass keys coated in the dust of ages. Kyle, Arin, and Gromash followed him down a sloping passage that led straight into the heart of the mountain.
"You must have thought I was merely a guard, Kyle," Ravan said as they walked. His voice no longer rumbled like falling stone but carried the tone of an old teacher. "But my duty is not only to defend borders. I am the Custodian of the Chronos Archives. Everything the world has forgotten—or chosen to forget—is recorded here."
They stopped before a massive black granite door engraved with an hourglass. The moment Ravan placed his hand upon it, the stone melted like wax and parted to reveal a magical gateway.
Inside lay another world entirely.
Shelves thousands of feet tall stretched toward the unseen ceiling, packed with countless books and scrolls. Yet the light did not come from lamps—it radiated from floating golden letters drifting in the air. Books slipped from their shelves on their own, pages fluttering before returning to their places. The scent of old ink and dried leather filled the atmosphere.
While the main library shimmered with life, the corridor behind it felt cold and lifeless. Ravan's heavy footsteps echoed across the stone floor as Kyle followed like a shadow. The deeper they went, the thicker the damp air grew, heavy with ancient memories. The torches here burned not blue but with a sickly yellow glow, as though even they feared the silence.
"This place exists outside of time," Ravan said, stopping beside an immense shelf. His eyes, once filled with suspicion, now held a strange sympathy. "Draken… is not merely the monster told in stories. He was once an 'Angel'—destroyed by his own loyalty."
Kyle froze. "An angel? But people say he is destruction itself."
"Destruction is often born from rejected love," Ravan replied, brushing his fingers across an old binding. "The ring on your finger was gifted to him to regulate the flow of time. But when he discovered that a demon and a god were secretly hollowing out this world and plotting against the heavens, he rebelled. That is when he was sealed within the curse of the Bound Soul."
Arin and Gromash stared at Ravan in disbelief. Ravan studied the ring on Kyle's hand carefully. "Do you know why the ring chose you? Because your blood carries the calm that can endure Draken's wrath. But be warned… this library will show you truths you may not be ready to bear."
They halted before a gallery that resembled a sealed tunnel. Time itself seemed frozen here. Dust layered the walls so thickly that ancient carvings were barely visible. No cobwebs hung—perhaps no creature dared breathe in this silence. Kyle's heartbeat thundered in his ears like war drums.
"Beyond this point, only the Custodian may open the path," Ravan's voice echoed like shifting stone. He stood before a plain stone wall and told Kyle to place his hand upon it. There was no lock, no handle—yet the moment Kyle's fingers touched the surface, faint blue lines of light appeared. Ravan closed his eyes and murmured an ancient chant too low for Kyle to comprehend.
The ground trembled. The massive wall slowly slid backward, revealing a chamber drenched in darkness. A freezing gust burst forth, chilling Kyle to his bones.
"Step inside," Ravan said.
As Kyle took his first step, ancient lamps in the corners ignited on their own, bathing the chamber in dim crimson light. At the center stood an altar carved from black marble. Upon it rested a single book.
Its binding was not ordinary paper but wrinkled black leather resembling serpent skin. Heavy chains of pure gold wrapped tightly around it, engraved with whispering runes that seemed to restrain the evil within.
The ring on Kyle's finger pulsed with anger and excitement.
"Kyle," Ravan said gravely, "this is The Chronicle of the Burning Soul. For thousands of years it has been hidden, for it contains the truth the gods tried to erase and humans preferred to forget. It is Draken's complete and unaltered history."
Kyle approached as though nearing a living volcano. He tried to turn the pages, but they were as heavy as stone. When one finally opened, a pale golden glow emerged. The letters were not written in ink—they looked carved from burning coal. The language was foreign, jagged, and terrifying. Simply gazing at it made Kyle dizzy, as if the words were clawing into his mind.
"I can't understand any of this," Kyle said.
"Do not read it," Ravan warned, placing his hand on the page. "It is the Arcan tongue—the language of gods and demons. A mortal may lose his sanity attempting to read it."
Ravan sensed Kyle's turmoil and placed a steady hand on his shoulder, warmth flowing through him. "You see yourself as weak and helpless, don't you? As if fate mocked you by binding Draken's shadow to your soul. But the truth runs far deeper."
He pointed to a page displaying a family tree. "Your family—the Sentinel Lineage—has guarded this ring for thousands of years. Your grandfather, his father… all gave their lives to keep Draken sealed within the stone. Yet none could form a contract with him. They were guardians, not the Vessel."
"Then how did I…?" Kyle asked.
"Because Draken did not seek a warrior," Ravan said, locking eyes with him. "He sought a pure soul. He already possesses strength and fury. Had he bonded with a ruthless mage or cruel warrior, his dark energy would have merged with their greed and reduced this world to ashes. But your soul is like a calm lake. Your willingness to sacrifice yourself for others is the shield that absorbs Draken's poison."
Ravan paused, then spoke firmly. "You are not controlling Draken, Kyle. Your purity is calming his destructive nature. He chose you because only you can free him without becoming a monster. You are his last hope."
Kyle stared at his trembling fingers. For the first time, he felt strength within his so-called weakness. His purity was not a curse—it was the only weapon capable of saving the world.
But as he reached to turn the next page, a terrifying chill surged from his hand straight to his heart. The pages hardened like iron, and from between them emerged a sharp black thorn.
Cliffhanger:–
"Friends, just as Kyle tried to uncover the next page of Draken's history, the book revealed its horrifying nature. What is that black thorn—and why did it stop Kyle from moving forward? Is it a warning… or the beginning of a greater sacrifice? What do you think is written on the next page that Kyle may have t
o risk his life to read? Share your thoughts in the comments!"