Dark Jewel of Arcanea, Chapter 1: The Walk-In

[pianopraze]

The Cipher of the Ancients

Chapter 2: Small Recovery

The glow of the piece hit me like a sucker punch, a burst of spectral light in the dimness of my cluttered office. It lay there on the mahogany, an innocuous shard among scattered papers and artifacts, yet it hummed with secrets. I leaned in closer, squinting. The air was thick with the scent of oil and aged leather, the comforting stink of thinking and toil.

"El," Ella whispered, her voice a crackle of static in the silence, "Do you see that?"

I didn't answer, because the answer was scrawled all over my possessions. Runes, glowing faintly blue, now laced the spine of every book, the sides of my clockwork lamp, even the barrel of my revolver. These inscriptions, hidden to the naked eye without the piece's touch—whispered of truths untold.

Ella leaned over my shoulder, her eyes wide with the thrill of discovery. "Look at that," she murmured, pointing at a map where hidden paths through Arcanea glowed like veins of gold. We shared a grin, the kind you get when you've stumbled upon something that could change everything. But this piece, it was more than a tool; it was a promise of power, of insight into the very fabric of our world.

"By the ancients..." My words hung there, heavy as lead. This fragment of the Ethereal Apple—it wasn't just another trinket. It was a key, a doorway to things meant to stay buried.

Ella sidled up beside me, her eyes wide with the reflection of the runes. Her curiosity was a live wire; it sparked the air between us. "El, think about it. If this piece can reveal so much here..."

"Imagine what we could uncover about the artifact itself." My heart kicked against my ribs like it was trying to break free. I felt it—the potential thrumming beneath my skin. This was it, the edge of something vast and unknown. We shared a look, a fleeting moment where triumph eclipsed doubt. We were two shadows dancing on the wall of discovery, and for a heartbeat, we basked in the sheer possibility of it all. But triumph was a fickle friend in our line of work. And shadows, they were never far from the darkness that cast them.

The cawing started as a distant echo, a harbinger cloaked in the guise of twilight's last mutterings. It grew louder, clawing its way through the murky silence that had settled over my office like soot.

"El," Ella's voice was a tight wire, strung too high, ready to snap. She stood up from her chair, legs carrying her in staccato steps to the window. I saw in the way her hands hovered close to her spell-woven cloak—she was ready to summon forth a storm if need be.

I rose also, the piece of the Ethereal Apple cold and heavy in my pocket, a secret with the weight of the world. The cawing intensified, a cacophony that heralded trouble on black wings. The Crows were coming with reinforcements this time, drawn to the power we had unearthed, shadows hungry for whatever light they could snuff out.

"Dammit," I cursed under my breath, rising to join Ella by the trembling panes of glass. "They're on us sooner than I thought."

A thunderous crash shattered the stillness, sending wood fragments flying and transforming tranquility into pandemonium. The door to my office, which had always served as a sturdy sentinel standing firm against intrusion, erupted open with a violent burst, scattering shards and splinters in all directions. In the doorway, silhouetted against the waning glow of the gas lamps in the hallway outside, stood three familiar figures along with a few others, their forms shadowy and menacing. Fortunately, the cramped confines of my office prevented them all from squeezing inside, leaving them clustered at the threshold.

Their intentions were etched in the steel glint of the rogue's knives, the brutish leer of the thug's grimace, and the tautness of the archer's bowstring. "Hand it over, El," the rogue hissed, a serpent's promise in his voice. "You don't want this to get messy."

But messy was my middle name, and I wasn't about to let these carrion pickers take what I had just begun to understand. Shadows might be their domain, but I had learned to dance in the darkness just as well—and I intended to lead. "Sorry, friends," I said, words dripping with a challenge I felt down to my bones. "But you'll find I'm not the giving type."

The world tilted into mayhem, but I found my center. My fingers twisted in the air, weaving an incantation as old as deceit itself. A shroud of illusion cloaked our presence, blurring the edges of reality within the confines of my office. The room, once clear-cut in its modest dimensions, now stretched into an endless hall of mirrors.

"Where'd they go?" The rogue's voice sliced through the bewilderment like a dagger through silk. He lunged forward, slashing at phantoms, his blades cleaving only empty air.

Ella, her eyes alight with arcane fervor, flung her arms wide. An incantation spilled from her lips, windswept and wild. Papers erupted from my desk in a cyclone of chaos, fluttering about like disoriented doves. They whipped around the intruders' heads, obscuring their vision, adding to the pandemonium I had conjured.

"Damn it," growled the thug, swatting at the flurry, his meaty fists grasping at nothing.

The archer nocked an arrow, but uncertainty marred his aim. His eyes darted frantically, seeking targets in the tumultuous paper storm. Each breath he took was a moment lost, each second of hesitation a reprieve for us.

I clutched the piece of the Ethereal Apple, feeling its pulse against my skin—a heartbeat of possibilities. Its power seeped into my veins, an infusion of foresight. The Crows' movements became predictable, their strategies laid bare before me in a tapestry of potential outcomes.

A blade arced toward where they thought I stood; I was already two steps ahead, sliding through shadows that clung to me like faithful hounds. The rogue's confusion deepened, his frustration palpable in the tense air.

"Over here!" Ella called out, her voice a siren's call from everywhere and nowhere. She moved with the grace of the wind she commanded, leading our assailants on a merry chase through a maze of mirages.

The archer released his arrow, aiming for the echo of her voice, but it found only resistance in the oak of my bookshelf, quivering with misplaced purpose.

"Keep them guessing," I whispered, more to myself than to Ella. We were artists painting disorder, composers orchestrating a symphony of distraction.

The rogue lunged, a phantom in the periphery of my illusion-shrouded world. A gleam of steel was his downfall, telegraphing his intent. I sidestepped, my hand snaking out, and wrenched the dagger from his grip. Metal clattered to the hardwood, a death knell for his confidence.

"El!" Ella's voice was tense, a thread ready to snap. She stared down the archer, her hands weaving an incantation that pulled at the room's light like taffy.

With a snap of her fingers, brilliance erupted. It was a star birthed in the confines of our office, blinding and disorienting. The archer cried out, clawing at his eyes, now useless as the darkness he sought to conquer with his arrows.

I pivoted, confronting the thug—a mountain of sinew and malice. He charged, a bull seeing red in every corner of the room. But it wasn't red he met; it was the unyielding wall, introduced by a well-placed tripwire of my own design. His impact with the plaster was a symphony of crumbling stone and stifled groans.

"Time to vanish," I muttered, scanning the chaos. We were cornered rats, but even vermin have their exits. With deft fingers, I pocketed the Ethereal Apple's piece, its power a solemn oath of survival. "Give me your hand." My command cut through the haze of victory and desperation. Ella nodded, reaching out to grab my right hand as my left spread out inky blackness, enveloping the room to all but my eyes.

We dashed to the bookcase, a fixture as familiar as the secrets it guarded. I pressed a hidden catch, and the shelves swung open with a sigh, revealing true darkness beyond. Our salvation, or perhaps another layer of the labyrinthine dangers we courted.

"Quickly," I urged, as the shadows beckoned. This passage, known only to a trusted few, was our escape hatch, though it promised no safety, only distance from the immediate threat. The Crows' caws faded into confusion as we slipped unseen into the void behind the books, the scent of aged paper our fleeting goodbye to the world we left behind.

The bookcase swung shut with a whisper, an epitaph on the air. Ahead lay the unknown, a path fraught with the perils of those who dealt in truths best left buried. But for now, we moved—silent phantoms in pursuit of daylight.

Corridors wound like serpents, stone underfoot cold as the lies that brought us here. Every echo was a potential betrayer; our breaths, traitorous heralds of our passage. The clamor of The Crows grew distant, their curses painting portraits of anger in the air behind us.

"Left here," Ella whispered, a ghost's murmur in the gloom. I nodded, trusting her familiarity with these hidden veins of the city. We twisted and turned through the bowels of deceit, the taste of dust and old secrets on our lips.

A sliver of moonlight beckoned—a thin hope slicing through the oppression. The back alley greeted us, its cobblestones littered with the detritus of the unseen world. We emerged like wraiths birthed from shadow's womb, slipping unnoticed into the night's embrace. Behind us, the door grated shut, severing us from the labyrinthine depths.

We paused, panting, against the rough brick of an indifferent building. The city's pulse thumped against my temples, a rhythm laced with peril. Ella leaned close, eyes alight with the fire of one who had danced with danger and lived to tell the tale.

"El, the power we hold," she started, voice hushed but fervent, "it's a beacon for those with magic enough to sense it."

I nodded, feeling the weight of the Ethereal Apple's piece in my pocket—an anchor dragging us both into churning waters. "Knowledge is the most perilous treasure," I admitted, tracing the contours of the artifact through the fabric. "With it comes a price—the currency of our safety, spent with each revelation."

Ella's gaze met mine, a silent exchange of understanding. "The Magpie and his gang won't relent. This is just the overture to a symphony of strife."

"Aye, but every note tells us more about the tune we're up against." My hand clenched around the piece, resolve hardening like steel tempered in adversity's flames. "We've glimpsed behind the veil, Ella. There's no unseeing the truth."

"Nor unfeeling the danger," she added, pulling her cloak tighter against the creeping chill.

I merely nodded in agreement as we set off, two figures melded by fate's hand—each step a declaration, every heartbeat a promise. 

We melted into the labyrinth of Arcanea's back alleys, the night now our silent ally.

[pianopraze]

Cipher of the Ancients

Chapter 3: Deeper Dip

After spending a few days buried in the tomes of the Grand Library, we pieced together the puzzle - the Ethereal Apple was fashioned after the symbol of Loretta, an ancient Demi-god of Knowledge. Her name, once whispered in reverence, was now all but lost to the sands of time. The library failed to yield forth the long forgotten location of her temples.

But the streets of Arcanea were always full of whispers, and the back alleys and low-born whispered of an old, disused church on Arcanea's outskirts, dedicated to Loretta. With this new lead, we departed from the security of the city's heart, venturing into the uncertain shadows of its fringes. The church stood waiting, a mute guardian of long-buried secrets, potentially holding the next fragment of our mysterious Apple. An ancient relic, it hopefully lay in the temple hidden where the city's life barely touched, its existence more legend than fact to the masses.

As we navigated through Arcanea, the cobbled streets and towering skyscrapers adorned in neon and magic gradually yielded to lightless winding dirt paths flanked by shanties and makeshift lean-tos, home to the city's most destitute inhabitants. The chapel, in its earlier days, likely stood isolated from the bustling heart of civilization. Yet, like a relentless cancer, Arcanea had sprawled outward, wrapping its tendrils around the ancient structure. The chapel now loomed as a dark silhouette against the waning light of the evening sky, its weathered stones and timeworn architecture standing as a solemn monument to an era when knowledge was revered as a deity.

The outer grounds were strewn with the remnants of a bygone era – shattered statues, their stone faces weathered and cracked, and inscriptions so faded they whispered more of mystery than meaning. Each piece spoke of a once-great reverence for wisdom, now dimmed and forgotten. As I walked, I felt the heavy weight of history pressing upon me, each step echoing through the silence. It was almost as if the curious gaze of a deity, long since abandoned and no longer worshipped, lingered, intrigued by the presence of intruders in their sacred space.

The chapel doors groaned under my touch, creaking like the bones of the aged loathed to be moved, the sound reverberating through the empty halls like a dirge for the forgotten. As we stepped inside, shafts of grey light bombarded us through a mostly open ceiling. An almost dizzying mixture of dust, mold, and the musty scent of ancient parchment arose with each hesitant step forward. It was as if time itself had settled here, undisturbed for centuries.

The few walls still standing were adorned with faded frescoes, each time-worn stroke telling tales of Loretta's vast wisdom. Her painted eyes seemed to watch us, following our every move with the silent weight of either judgment, or perhaps, bemused curiosity. The grandeur of the place was palpable, even in decay; what high ceilings that remained still whispered of the reverence once held here.

At the chapel's heart stood an altar, grand once but now cloaked in neglect, its edges softened by the ravages of time. Cobwebs hung like tattered veils, and the marble was stained with the grime of ages. Yet, there was a certain dignity in its disrepair, a silent promise that within these walls, within this ruin, lay another piece of our complex puzzle. As we ventured deeper, each step forward felt like an intrusion into the sacred silence, yet also a pilgrimage to uncover the secrets Loretta had left behind. The place was a labyrinth of history, and somewhere amidst the dust and the shadows lay the next clue.

We crept through the chapel's threshold, our senses heightened. I noticed it first - a slight irregularity in the dust pattern on the floor, a telltale sign of a pressure plate. I whispered to Ella, "Watch your step. This place isn't just abandoned; it's guarded." We moved with the precision of dancers in a deadly ballet, each step a gamble on the sanctity of the ground beneath us.

Our progress was slow, deliberate, each of us tuned to the slightest disturbance. The chapel, in its silent decay, was testing us, challenging our resolve and our right to delve into its mysteries. The quiet was shattered by a sudden, sharp click under my boot. I froze, my breath catching as a section of the floor beneath us gave way, revealing a pit bristling with cruel spikes. I flung myself towards Ella, half-tackling her as we half stumbled, half fell away from the edge, our hearts pounding against the silence that had just been broken.

"Loretta's not making this easy, no wonder the homeless don't enter here," I muttered, half in awe, half in frustration, as I stood. The trap was a clear message: this was no place for the careless or the faint-hearted.

We surveyed the temple, now more cautious than ever. We began to move around, our eyes peeled for more signs of danger. The dust, which had once been our enemy, now became our ally, showing us what was probably the safest paths. Ella pointed out another anomaly, a barely perceptible shift in the wall's texture, suggesting another trap.

Ella said, "El, the Apple. Try it now."

Silently cursing my own oversight, I reached into my pocket and retrieved the fragment of the Ethereal Apple. As I did so, a brilliant blue-white streak suddenly erupted from my hand which wrapped the Apple, illuminating the surroundings. The concealed traps, once hidden, now glowed with a shimmering blue-white outline, their shapes revealed as the light danced and flickered over them like moonbeams on water. I turned to Ella, my expression a blend of embarrassment and reluctant acknowledgment. "You're right," I admitted, my voice tinged with a mix of regret and relief. "All the traps are now clearly marked."

As the soft, ethereal blue glow gently flowed over the room, its shimmering light danced across the floor before the ancient altar, revealing intricate symbols long obscured by layers of dust and debris, etched meticulously into the cold, weathered stone. Each highlighted symbol seemed to come alive under the luminous embrace, corresponding to ancient deities of lore. Some figures I instantly recognized by name, their legends echoing in my memory, while others remained enigmatic, shrouded in mystery and time, their identities a puzzle pieced together through context.

Ella's eyes grew wide as she realized the importance. "El, take a look," she whispered, her voice brimming with wonder, "these symbols... they stand for ancient gods. And on the altar - that's the symbol of time."

I knelt down, brushing away the layers of dust and debris from the floor with practiced hands, revealing the intricate symbols beneath. With my thieves' tools in hand, I felt around the edge of the design, quickly realizing that the symbols were part of a large, movable, circular plate.

Using the fine tips of my tools, I began to rotate the circle. Each deity's symbol moved past the altar's edge, their ancient names echoing in my mind until the symbol for Azure, the God of Time, aligned with the glyph of time emblazoned via the Apple's light over the rune etched in the floor. I stopped the rotation of the plate, and it gently settled down into the floor.

There was a faint click, so subtle it was almost swallowed by the chapel's silence, yet unmistakable. The marble altar responded with a shudder, and a slow, soft, almost mournful grinding sound filled the air as a hidden door within it began to open. With a whisper of movement, the door revealed a small, concealed compartment. Nestled inside was the next piece of the Ethereal Apple, its silver surface catching and reflecting the blue glow emanating from the slice of Apple already in my hand.

Ella and I exchanged a look, our faces a mix of triumph at our discovery and a newfound respect for the cunning of Loretta's guardianship. As I stepped forward to claim our prize, my hand outstretched, the tranquility was shattered. A shout pierced the silence from outside, and through the cracks in the chapel's ancient walls, I saw shadows moving with purpose, surrounding the structure. The Crows had found us, and now we were trapped.

The encroaching sounds of The Crows were like a storm brewing just outside the chapel. Ella's grip tightened on my arm, her voice a hushed urgency. "We can't stay here," she whispered, her eyes darting around for an escape. Just as the first arrow flew by my face, heightening the urgency.

In my left hand, the first fragment of the Ethereal Apple appeared to answer my silent plea for a way out, its blue glow illuminating a path through the chapel's debris leading to the entrance of the building's catacombs. I quickly reached out and snatched the newly found piece in my right hand. As we hurriedly made our way forward, concentrating on the urgency of our escape, the second Apple fragment started to emit light a soft red light also. With each hurried step, time seemed to decelerate around us, and our pursuers' actions turned into a slow, almost dreamlike series of movements.

The first piece unveiled the entrance to the catacombs, once obscured by layers of dust and shadow, now shining like a bright beacon in the surrounding gloom. I pointed it out to Ella, "There, behind that tapestry." The tapestry was a heavy, ancient fabric, its colors faded and threads frayed with age. We darted towards it, the new piece clutched tightly in my right hand, intensifying the strange temporal distortion around us. Each step we took felt like two to our adversaries, as if we were sprinting through a slow-motion world. With a swift jerk, I pulled the tapestry aside, revealing a narrow, dark entrance that gaped like a black maw. Without hesitation, we plunged down the passage now illuminated by the Apple's soft blue light. The world outside seemed to crawl at a snail's pace as we moved with a sense of accelerated urgency, our ragged breaths echoing off the cold, damp stone walls.

The catacombs were tight and suffocating, the air stale, but they were our only refuge from the daggers, arrows, and spells which pierced the air behind us. At the bottom of the stairs, the Apple highlighted a hidden rune carved into the stone which, when activated by Ella flowing her arcane energy into it, swung aside a section of the wall. On the other side was an obvious lever which rotated the wall back, concealing our path.

Ella smiled, "That will slow them down." Her beaming grin lit up the dark sanctuary around us, casting a momentary glow of hope amidst the shadows.

Returning her smile, I nodded, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle heavily upon me, then collapsed to the ground. The immense strain of channeling my arcane energies into the Apple's two slices had utterly drained my mana, leaving me powerless and bereft of strength. I descended into a deep, dark oblivion, where consciousness faded away. 

All cares and concerns ceased to exist, swallowed by the comforting embrace of nothingness.

[pianopraze]

Cipher of the Ancients 

Chapter 4: Minor Uptick

I awoke to a dim, blue light playing across my vision, the kind of light you see when your eyes are just beginning to adjust to darkness. My body felt like it had been drained of every ounce of strength, my limbs heavy as if carved from stone. As my senses returned, the first thing I noticed was the cool, damp air of the catacombs, the scent of earth and ancient stone filling my nostrils.

Blinking to clear the blur from my eyes, I saw Ella's worried face above me. In the soft glow of the Apple in her hand, her features were etched with concern. Her eyes searched mine.

"El, can you hear me?" her voice was a whisper, carrying the weight of relief mixed with urgency. I could see the strain in her expression, the lines of worry creasing her forehead.

I managed a weak nod, my throat parched and in dire need of a sip from the flask tucked in my vest pocket. My voice was a mere rasp as I attempted to speak. "Yeah, I'm... I'm here," I croaked, the cold stone beneath me grounding me back into the harsh reality of our situation. I reached into my vest, pulled out the flask, and took a sip. The liquid soothed my throat, and the fire pleasantly burned its way down my soul.

Ella's face softened slightly at my response, but her concern didn't fully dissipate. "You pushed yourself too far with the Apple," she said, her voice low to keep from echoing through the catacombs.

Looking around, I realized we were deeper into the labyrinth than I remembered. The walls were lined with the bones of those long gone, silent witnesses to our struggle. The piece of the Apple in Ella's hand had been the only light in this darkness, guiding us, or perhaps, guiding Ella to watch over me as I lay unconscious.

I tried to sit up, my muscles protesting, but Ella's hand on my arm kept me steady. "Rest a moment more. We're safe for now, but we need to plan our next move," she urged, her eyes scanning the shadows around us, ever vigilant for any sign of The Crows.

I nodded, understanding the gravity of our situation, yet grateful for the brief respite, and for Ella's watchful care in this moment of vulnerability.

When I finally felt strength return to my limbs, I noticed Ella sitting close by, the new piece of the Ethereal Apple in her hands, its silver surface catching the dim light from the first piece. Her eyes were fixed on it, a mix of curiosity and caution in her gaze.

"El, look at this," she whispered, her voice barely disturbing the quiet of the catacombs. She held the piece up, and I saw the subtle, almost imperceptible shifts around us. Time itself seemed to bend, the air vibrating with potential.

I reached out, my fingers brushing against the cool metal, and immediately felt the change. It was as if the world had slowed down, or perhaps we had sped up. The dust in the air hung suspended, the distant drip of water from somewhere deep within the catacombs stretched into a prolonged echo.

"We can manipulate time," Ella said, her voice a mixture of awe and trepidation. We experimented, first slowing down our movements to a crawl, watching as the shadows cast by our Apple pieces seemed to stretch and distort. Then, we tried speeding up, our tasks completed in the blink of an eye, the world around us seemingly frozen.

The thrill was unmistakable, a surge of energy coursing through my veins. Yet, accompanying it was the sobering awareness that we weren't merely interacting with an artifact; we were tampering with the fundamental essence of reality. It's no surprise that someone had dispersed and hidden the Apple. With just two pieces, we already wielded powers akin to deities. How much more potent would it be when fully reassembled?

With the newfound understanding of the second piece's power, we decided it was time to move. The catacombs were a maze, and the sooner we could navigate through them, the better our chances of staying one step ahead of The Crows. I stood, the aches from my earlier collapse still lingering, but the urgency of our situation, and another nip from my flask, fueled me.

Ella took the lead, her piece of the Apple illuminating the path ahead. It revealed traps and hidden passages that were previously invisible to us, guiding us with its blue light, showing us where to step to avoid triggering ancient mechanisms. We moved silently, the walls around us adorned with bones and cryptic carvings, each telling a story of time, knowledge, and the worship of Loretta. Every turn seemed to whisper secrets, the air thick with the history of those who had once sought wisdom here. The silence was occasionally broken by the distant echo of footsteps; The Crows were down here too, their pursuit relentless.

Ella paused at a junction, her gaze fixed on a particular carving that seemed to resonate with the Apple's glow. "This way," she whispered, pointing down a darker, less traveled path. Trusting her judgment, honed by years of working together, I followed.

We had been walking for what felt like hours when a flicker of light, different from the Apple's glow, caught my eye down one of the narrow, bone-lined corridors. Ella and I exchanged a wary glance, our steps slowing as we approached. The light was coming from a small alcove, where an old man sat, his presence almost blending into the shadows of the catacombs. He was ancient and alien, not quite human, his face etched with the wrinkles of time. His eyes were sharp despite his age, watching us with a mixture of curiosity and caution. Around him were scattered artifacts, books, and what looked like maps of the catacombs, all lit by a single, flickering candle.

"Lost, are we?" His voice was raspy, like the rustle of leaves, but there was an undercurrent of knowledge, of secrets whispered through decades.

Ella tightened her grip on the Apple piece, ready for any sign of hostility. "Who are you?" she asked, her tone firm but not unkind.

"I am the caretaker of this place," he replied, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Or perhaps, I am the guardian of time's secrets, if you will. I've been here since before your kind even knew of Loretta's chapel."

I felt a chill, not from the cold but from the weight of his words. "Do you know the way out?" I asked, keeping my voice steady, gauging his intentions.

He chuckled, a sound that echoed oddly in the space. "Out? Oh, there are many ways out, young ones. But the question isn't how to leave, it's what you seek while you're here. Knowledge, perhaps? Or is it the pieces of the Apple you chase?"

Ella was quick to respond, "We seek to understand, to learn, but we're also being pursued."

"Ah, The Crows," he nodded, his eyes gleaming with some untold story. "They chase shadows, but you, you chase the light. I can help you, but should I?"

He stood, his movements slow but deliberate, and motioned for us to follow him down another corridor. "Come, let us see if you are worthy of the knowledge you seek. But remember, knowledge is a double-edged sword," he chuckled. The old caretaker led us to a chamber unlike any other in the catacombs. It was circular, the walls lined with shelves holding an array of sand timers, each one different in size and design, some running, others still. In the center was a large, ornate table with a complex mechanism that seemed to control the flow of sand in all the timers simultaneously.

"This," the caretaker announced, his voice echoing slightly in the round room, "is where time itself is tested. If you wish to proceed, you must understand it."

Ella and I eyed the setup warily. The mechanism was intricate, with gears, levers, and pulleys all connected in a way that suggested the slightest change would affect everything.

"You must align these timers," he continued, pointing to the array, "to mimic the cycle of day and night, life and death. Patience is your ally here, not haste."

I felt the weight of the Apple piece in my hand, its power to manipulate time tempting to use. We started by observing, noting how each timer influenced the others. There was one for sunrise, another for the peak of day, one for dusk, and one for the dead of night. Others represented moments of life - birth, growth, decay, and death - all interconnected.

Ella whispered, "We need to balance them, make them all flow at once, in harmony."

It was a dance of time, each adjustment requiring thought and foresight. I moved one lever, and the sand in the "birth" timer flowed faster, but it slowed the "growth" one. Ella countered by adjusting a gear, evening out the flow.

Minutes turned into what felt like hours, each of us focused, our hands moving with precision. The caretaker watched silently, his expression inscrutable.

Finally, with a final click, all timers flowed in unison, the sound of sand moving in perfect synchrony, a soft, almost musical whisper filling the room. The mechanism at the center hummed, and then with a slow, grinding sound, a part of the wall slid aside, revealing a hidden passage.

The caretaker nodded, a hint of respect in his eyes. "You have shown patience, understanding, and respect for the cycle of time. Proceed, but remember, with such knowledge comes responsibility."

We stepped through the new opening, leaving behind the chamber of timers, feeling the weight of what we had just accomplished.

This hidden passage led us into a chamber that felt untouched by time, the air crisp and cool, as if preserved from the moment it was sealed. The walls were covered in frescoes depicting scenes of celestial bodies, ancient rites, and the lore of Loretta, glowing faintly with an inner light.

At the center of this sanctum lay a pedestal, upon which rested scrolls, tomes, and artifacts, all untouched by dust or decay. As we approached, the light of the first piece of the Apple in Ella's hand stretched out, its blue glow intensifying, highlighting a scroll.

Ella picked up the scrolls, her fingers careful not to disturb the ancient material. "This... this talks about the Ethereal Apple," she murmured, her eyes scanning the text. "It says the pieces are not just fragments of power but keys to unlocking the universe's secrets."

We read through the documents, each one providing insight into the nature of the Apple, its origin tied to Loretta's teachings on the balance between knowledge and power. There were mentions of how each piece, when united, would not only enhance one's understanding of the cosmos but also pose a risk if mishandled.

Amid the artifacts, we discovered a map, not of the catacombs, but of Arcanea, highlighting a particular spot—the ancient castle. Once a center of authority, it had slowly decayed as the balance of power shifted away from the aristocracy to guilds, secret societies, churches, and the different schools of magic.

"This must be our next destination," I said, my voice low with the thrill of discovery mixed with the weight of our new knowledge.

[pianopraze]

The Cipher of the Ancients 

Chapter 5: The Lowest Point

The cool, damp air of the old cemetery hit me like a slap in the face; I welcomed the shock after the stifling darkness of the catacombs. The tombstone cracked against my shoulder blade as I collapsed against it, lichen crunching beneath my robes. Rotting petals clung to my boots—roses turned to black sludge in this place where even decay goes to die. Ella's breath came in puffs of silver, her gloved hands gripped a moss-eaten angel's wing as she scanned the crooked forest of monuments. Somewhere beneath our feet, the catacombs still hummed with pursuit.

"Your genius escape route," she rasped, plucking a spiderweb from her long dark hair, "leads us to a cemetery that stinks of dead florist shops."

I pulled out my flask and took a long pull, reaching it out in offering. "You wanted discreet."

Ella nodded. "Three miles through the guild quarter. Past the guard patrols. Under six separate ward boundaries." She grimaced. "Shall I list the ninety-seven ways this plan reeks?"

"Ninety-eight." I pushed off the grave marker, my mental gears grinding. The scent hit me first—burnt ozone cutting through grave mold. A storm was coming. "We need a backdoor into those ruins. Someone who knows the faculty's... extracurricular habits."

The flask paused mid-swig. "You cannot mean…."

"The Velvet Curtain's still operational. Saw the lantern patterns changing when we crossed Merchant's Bridge."

She swore in three languages, each more anatomically creative than the last.

***

The brothel's sign squealed on rusted chains—a gilded velvet curtain painted on a  teardrop shaped sign. Two stories of stained glass windows depicted compromising positions between figures with clockwork limbs. The bouncer's augmented eyes flared at our approach.

"Private club," he rumbled, methane lamps reflecting in his enhanced eyes.

Ella stepped into the light, hips swinging just enough to make her coat sway. "Darling, we're sure Madam Lysandra will be interested in our gold," she crooned as she produced two pieces of gold, tucking them into his vest pocket with a pat.

The man's head nodded, then he stamped his foot twice. A hidden door ground open beside the stained glass orgy, exhaling amber light and the tang of arcane incense.

Inside, the Velvet Circuit stunk of luxury and lies. Transparent silk clothed courtesans rotated on gilded platforms, their porcelain faces frozen in ecstasy as mages in midnight robes adjusted their pleasure-dials. A mechanized harp clattered through a dirge-like rendition of The Ballad of Shattered Mirrors. Ella's shoulder brushed mine—a barely-there contact that meant "stay sharp".

Madame Lysandra emerged in a cloud of smoke from her vaporizer pipe. Her gown's silk shimmered between states—one moment embroidered with celestial maps, the next with obscene shadows in languid, erotic motions. She examined us for a moment. "Still trading in shadows, Elridar?" Her laugh rasped like a key turning in a rusted lock. "Last I heard, the Magpie wanted your liver pickled in alchemical brine."

I nodded and leaned against a support beam. "Heard you've been hosting the High Arcanea Academy faculty's... nocturnal curriculum. Even after the High Provost's unfortunate combustion."

Her smile tightened, the corners of her mouth drawing in, not with joy but with a steely resolve, her eyes narrowing as they reflected the dim light, casting shadows across her face that spoke volumes of our perilous situation.

Ella tossed a velvet pouch onto the worn lacquered table between us, cutting the tension. Gold coins spread across the table drawing Lysandra's eyes away from my face. "We need ingress. Not the main gates."

Lysandra didn't move to touch the money. Her augmented parrot—brass beak gleaming—swooped down to peck at the bag. "The college ruins are warded tighter than a virgin's…."

"Think we crawled through corpse tunnels for the view?" I interrupted. Anger at her deflection spread through my veins, adrenaline sharpening the room's edges into knife-lines. "Your girls service the senior staff. There's a back route. For discretion."

Silence stretched like a garrote wire. Somewhere, a kettle hissed high and shrill.

When Lysandra finally moved, it was to press a concealed panel behind her. A drawer slid open, disgorging a map etched on translucent wyrm-bladder parchment. "The Moonlit Stair," she purred. "Behind the Hall of Errant Spells. Your partner here"—she nodded at Ella giving her a cruel smirk—"might recognize the entry sequence."

Ella went statue-still. Lysandra smiled wider.

"Seems the Headmaster enjoys roleplay with thieves who quote pre-Collapse poetry." The Madam traced a venomous nail over the map's labyrinthine lines. "Three hundred gold. Or..."

Ella's boot pressed against mine—a warning. I tossed two extra platinum coins onto the pile. "Keep the extra."

Lysandra's nostrils flared, but she swept the coins into a hidden compartment. "The Stair resets at dawn. Try not to die screaming—it upsets the girls' calibration."

As we retreated through the heavy curtains, their fabric saturated with the pungent odor of spell-tainted sweat, I found myself yearning to once again inhale the familiar, gritty aroma of Arcanea's streets. The air outside, filled with the mingled scents of smoke, spices, and unwashed humanity, seemed almost inviting compared to the oppressive atmosphere we left behind.

A shiver washed down my spine as we walked away. Some deals even gold couldn't sanitize.

The river Ranq emitted a foul stench that clung to the air, a rank odor that seemed to seep into every corner of Arcanea. Its murky, dark surface was a sluggish conveyor of debris, raw sewage, and other unspeakable filth as it meandered through the city's indifferent streets. In the stagnant pools where the water slowed and the sewage accumulated, monstrous creatures like otyugh and even more dreadful beings were known to dwell, adding to the river's ominous reputation.

We wound our way, two shadows in the dark miasma of fog and stench rising from the fretted water. The moon conspired to be full, yet only offered dull, oppressive illumination through the rising fog.

Ella and I moved silently, the ground beneath our feet slick from the rising mist. The path was barely wide enough for one, forcing us into single file, the river on one side threatening to claim us with a misstep, and on the other, the looming presence of the academy’s high walls, a bastion of arcane knowledge and power.

We followed the path until it led us to an old, forgotten part of the academy's outer wall, where Lysandra had indicated. The Apple in my hand glowed softly, its light catching on an ancient rune carved into the stone, invisible to the untrained eye. I reached out, my fingers tracing the cold, rough surface until they found the rune, and I flowed my mana into it, releasing its magic.

The air shimmered, and before us, the stone seemed to melt away, revealing a staircase that wasn't there moments before, its steps glowing with an ethereal light, inviting yet intimidating. We quickly ascended.

Once atop the wall, we had a clear view of the academy grounds, the old castle standing out like a relic of time, its ruins telling stories of past glories. Thankfully, it was near to the wall we were on as it had, in ancient times, used the river as a moat.

The castle was a skeleton of its former self, with ivy clinging to its stones like a second skin. We found an opening, a crack in crumbling walls, and slipped inside. The interior was a maze of fallen arches and broken statues, the air thick with dust and the echo of bygone days.

I pulled out the Apple, focusing on a path down as we navigated the rotten skeleton of the castle, its light leading us to a hidden trapdoor beneath what was probably once a throne, but now just a jumble of rock. With a coordinated effort, we opened it, revealing a descent into the darkness of the dungeon below.

Down we went, into the bowels of the castle, where the air grew colder, the silence heavier. Until we found the passage collapsed and impassable.

"This was probably once an escape tunnel to the river, or beyond," I surmised, trying to gauge how far down we had come and our general direction. "We are possibly under the river, even now." I mused.

Ella, however, seemed to have spotted something in the collapsed tunnel and was busy digging. I bent down and noticed the familiar blue of a hidden passage to the left that Ella was exposing. I put the Apple away, and the glow faded.

We toiled for hours risking collapse as the rubble shifted, occasionally using the Apple to check our progress until the hidden catch was finally revealed, and a hidden doorway slid inward, spilling stone and timbers, and threatening further collapse.

Inside was a curious room. Broken alchemical glassware and long-crumbling tomes lay strewn about. The only thing of interest highlighted in the Apple's glow was a pedestal of black stone, upon which lay the third piece of the Ethereal Apple, its surface shimmering in light.

"Bingo!" exclaimed Ella with delight. She reached forth and wrapped her hands gently around it. She infused the Apple with her arcane energies and gave a perplexed expression. "You just walked four ways at once," she exclaimed.

"Hmm, maybe it explores the near future? The last slice affected time." I surmised.

"Makes sense. Here," she held it out to me. "You try. I'm going to imagine three possible courses of action, you tell me what you see."

I activated the Apple and saw her sit, walk out the door, and do jumping jacks all at the same time. It was confusing and overwhelming. I told her what I saw, and she nodded. On a whim, I took out the second slice and infused both. "Think of as many possibilities as you can," I requested.

Instead of responding, she suddenly became a blur. I applied the second slice's time-slowing power, and the world slowed, or my mind sped up, allowing me to see all the possibilities at once. This lasted until one of the Ellas kissed me, and I dropped my concentration in surprise.

"What?" She quirked.

"Nothing. It worked," was all I said in reply to her widening grin.

We retreated from what lay below and crawled back through the crack in the castle wall through which we had entered.

"Apologies, darling," Lysandra purred as we stood, flanked by Crows in raven-feather greatcoats. "The Magpie pays better bonuses for live specimens."

We stood surprised and surrounded, but never helpless.

Ella's thrown boot-knife glinted in the dim light as it swiftly and silently found its mark, slicing into a Crow's throat before his fingers could even brush the fletching of an arrow. I was in motion before his lifeless body hit the ground—my limbs a blur of speed and precision, fueled by the potent energy of the Apple. My reflexes were as sharp as the blade itself, driving another assailant's face into the cold, unforgiving stone of the castle wall. His cry of pain joined in a discordant symphony with the powerful Thunderclap blast I unleashed, resonating through the air towards the group advancing on me, their expressions turning from confidence to fear as they staggered under the force.

"El! The east gate!" Ella's voice cracked as a net of articulated copper weights descended. She rolled, the mesh catching only her left arm. For half a heartbeat, I saw her as the dockside rat she was at sixteen—all teeth and survival.

Then the stun-baton hit her spine.

The Apple showed me seven exit strategies. Six required leaving her twitching on wet cobblestones. The seventh involved the ornamental cannon loaded for graduation ceremonies.

I chose violence.

Black powder stung my eyes as my magic sparked the fuse. Lysandra's perfect coiffure caught fire first. In the chaos of screaming Crows and smelting flesh, I almost reached Ella. Almost.

Her fingers brushed mine.

A lead-weighted net took her down hard. Through the smoke, I saw the interrogation pliers in the lead Crow's belt. Then the world was spinning and flipping from an unseen spell blast which tossed me like a rag-doll over the wall and landed me in the cold, fetid waters of the Ranq. 

The current carried me away on uncaring arms as my brain refused to understand what had just happened.

[pianopraze]

Chapter 6: The True Recovery

The solitude of my office was a companion in itself, a silent, judging presence that seemed to mock my every thought. I sat at my desk, a mess of papers, maps, and half-empty bottles, the dim light from an oil lamp casting long shadows that danced across the walls like specters of regret. The room smelled of old books and stale whiskey, with an underlying scent of desperation that clung to everything, including me.

Ella's absence was a void, an empty space where there once was laughter, strategy, and the warmth of shared purpose.

My fingers, stained with ink and the memory of her brief touches, reached not for the map to our next clue but for the bottle. The amber liquid inside promised oblivion, a temporary escape from the reality where Ella was no longer by my side. I poured myself a glass, the sound of the liquor hitting the bottom like the toll of a bell for all the chances I hadn't taken, all the moments I'd let slip away.

The weight of solitude wasn't just emotional; it was a physical force, pressing down on my shoulders, making each breath feel like a labor. The room was cluttered with the debris of our quest - scrolls, artifacts, and the damned pieces of the Ethereal Apple.

I leaned back, the chair creaking under my weight, a sound that echoed the groans of my resolve hardening. The only light in this darkness was my determination to find her, to see this through to the end. I knew I had to move, to keep going. I took another sip, the burn down my throat a stark reminder of every misstep, every moment I'd spent in the bottle rather than on the hunt. But as the warmth spread through me, so did a fire of purpose. I slammed the glass down, the sound a declaration of war against The Magpie, against the very forces that had torn us apart.

Despair washed over me like the stink of the Ranq. Where to even start? I had no leads, no questions to even ask, only the cursed presence of these damn apple pieces. The first piece wouldn't lead me blindly. The second could slow time, but the seconds already passed as hours knowing The Magpie had Ella. And no brief glances of the future were working to help me see anything other than my body passed out on the floor.

I tossed the glass against the wall, then emptied the bottle in one long drink. The world was starting to spin pleasantly; I wouldn't have to endure the torture of consciousness much longer. Spin, spin, spin.

"That's it!" I exclaimed, rising too quickly to fall over my desk. Not caring, I finished my chain of thought. If I went with the spin of life, the cycles cruelly enforced by fate or the gods, I would end up in all the familiar locations following my familiar patterns. Patterns that led to contacts who might not know where the last slice of the apple resided, but I could get glimpses of the future to which outcomes might lead me closer with their interactions.

I started out for my first contact, coincidentally in a tavern, because I needed another drink.

The Gilded Grimoire, a real shithole, was the kind of place where the stench of desperation mixed with the stale beer and sweat of its patrons. It was tucked away in the underbelly of Arcanea, a tavern where the light seemed afraid to enter, leaving everything cloaked in shadows that whispered secrets. This was where I'd find the goblin Slick, the weasel of an information broker who knew every dirty secret in this city.

I stood outside, my hand clutching the third piece of the Ethereal Apple, feeling its power hum against my palm. Before stepping into that den of iniquity, I let the Apple guide my vision, seeking out the threads of possible futures. Each scenario played out before me like scenes from a play I was directing. In one, Slick's smile was too wide, his eyes too bright, betraying me with a nod to some hidden thug. In another, I walked away with knowledge, the kind that could lead me to Ella. And in the worst, we ended in a standoff, with knives drawn and words like daggers.

Armed with these visions, I pushed through the door, the bell above jangling like a warning. The air inside was thick, the kind of density you could almost chew on. Slick was in the back, his usual spot where he could keep an eye on everyone while sitting in the dark, his glowing red goblin eyes having no trouble seeing through it. His hair, the few strands left, was slicked back, his suit covered in the grease of his last meal, like he was trying to convince everyone he wasn't part of the filth he wallowed in.

I approached, each step calculated, my senses heightened by the Apple's magic. Before I got too close, I spotted him - the thug Slick was planning to use to sell me out to The Magpie. I veered slightly, my hand subtly moving, a spell whispered under my breath, neutralizing the brute before he could even think of making a move. He slumped in his chair, looking like he'd just decided to take a nap or imbibed one too many libations.

Slick's eyes narrowed, his smile faltering as he realized I had outmaneuvered him. "Elridar," he greeted, his voice smooth but with an edge. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

I sat across from him, the table between us littered with the detritus of past deals. "I need information," I said, my voice steady, the visions still fresh in my mind. "What do you know about the Grand Library?"

His eyes flickered with interest, or perhaps greed, but I was ready. I watched the dance of this conversation into the near future even as we spoke. I watched the steps and flourished in my Apple-guided visions. I would guide this talk, use his greed, his fear, to get what I needed. The Grand Library was my next stop, and with Slick's unwitting help, I'd discovered he had a contact who knew about Loretta, the closest thing to a clue I could find in this labyrinth of future conversations.

"What's this contact's name?" I sweetly inquired.

Slick sat back, knowing this was the endpoint in our conversation, where his greedy palm would be crossed with gold. "I'll tell you for…"

"Never mind," I said with a grin at his startled expression. "I'll figure it out," I said, abruptly standing and departing the stench. For I had no need to actually pay Slick, having already seen his answer through the Apple.

The next day at the Grand Library, Slick's half-orc janitor contact, Ryck, fell much the same way I rolled Slick. The ability to suss out the answers via the Apple greatly sped up conversations and led to more profitable (well, at least less expensive) answers, being able to see the responses before actually paying for them.

The contact had known Loretta, and where to search in the Grand Library for information. This led me to discover all the Demi-gods involved in the Apple had been brothers and sisters. The only one I'd found so far without a slice was Babael, ancient Demi-goddess of languages. Her ancient temple had been destroyed, but the building over its ruins was intriguing, and my next stop.

My disguise spell was far from perfect, yet masquerading as a learned scholar to infiltrate the esteemed Arcanea Guild of Linguistics demanded little more than a discreet bribe and an annual guild fee of a modest 20 gold coins. The spell wove a veneer of intellectualism around me, just enough to pass as a credible member. The guild's grandiose halls, filled with the aroma of aged parchment and the murmur of scholarly debates, seemed an impenetrable fortress of knowledge, yet the simplicity of my ruse allowed me to slip through its gates unnoticed.

The biggest challenge of utilizing the first slice of the apple wasn't in its actual use, but in controlling its blue-white guiding light to avoid disturbing others or sparking their interest. By pairing the third slice with the first, I managed to track its path without lighting up the room, by seeing in advance where the light would lead via my mental intent before the disrupting light shone forth.

I noted to myself I was definitely going to have to research how intent affected the world around me.

The janitor's closet in the basement archive was hardly an obstacle to my thieves' tools. Designed more for keeping wandering scholars out of accidentally entering, rather than actually prohibiting theft.

The apple's blue light highlighted the floor. Finding no trapdoor, I did what any other Arcanean arcane trickster would do. Obliterated it with a spell. I did cast silence on the door to politely keep the other scholars' study uninterrupted.

I'm a very polite half-elf. Mostly.

Under the flooring was detritus filling in an ancient stairwell to the original temple's catacombs. Praying I would not encounter any more puzzle-loving immortal ancients, I dug out the stairwell and descended.

How? Magic has its uses.

The catacombs beneath Arcanea were a labyrinth of darkness, the air thick with the dust of centuries and the cold whisper of the dead. The walls were lined with niches, each holding the bones of those long forgotten, their silent company stretching into the blackness. The ground was uneven, littered with fallen stones and the occasional relic of a past life, making each step a gamble.

With the first slice of the Ethereal Apple in my hand, its blue glow was my only light in this underworld. It cast shadows that seemed to dance with the spirits, illuminating inscriptions that spoke of lore and loss, guiding me down paths that were mere whispers of passages. The piece didn't just light the way; it revealed the hidden, the secrets that lay beneath the surface of reality.

As I navigated deeper, the Apple's light highlighted a peculiar anomaly - a section of wall that seemed too smooth, too perfect amidst the decay. I pressed the brick the apple revealed, and with a low, grating sound, a hidden door revealed itself, the stone sliding aside to reveal a narrow, descending staircase. The air here was different, charged with an ancient magic, the promise of something significant.

I descended until I entered a chamber unlike any I'd seen in the catacombs. This room was a sanctum, untouched by time, its walls adorned with frescoes depicting the tales of Babael, the Demi-god of Language. The colors were still vivid, magically preserved, the figures almost alive in their depiction of knowledge and communication.

The room was circular, its ceiling domed and painted with stars, as if to mimic the night sky, giving one the feeling of standing beneath an open sky rather than deep underground. Around and around the room flowed beautifully engraved scripts in hundreds, if not thousands, of languages. In the center, on a pedestal made of a translucent, crystal-like material, lay the final piece of the Ethereal Apple.

The piece itself was identical to the others, its oft silver incandescent in the light of the first slice. As I picked it up, it began to glow a beautiful golden light, which merged with the glow from the first slice, creating a spectrum of hues that danced around the room, illuminating the ancient scripts engraved in the wall that seemed to shift and change, speaking to me in tongues I had never known yet now understood.

I stood there, enveloped by silence, feeling a humbling awe that made my knees weak. My understanding felt like a mere speck, a single grain of sand against the vast, endless beach of creation. How many civilizations had risen and fallen, each with their own tapestry of culture, their own symphony of languages? The thought was staggering, a labyrinth of knowledge so deep and complex that it left the mind reeling, lost in the wonder of it all.

I wished I could share that moment with Ella.

[pianopraze]

The Cipher of the Ancients 

Chapter 7: The Final Dip

I trudged back to my office, each step heavier than the last, the pieces of the Ethereal Apple weighing me down like lead. The night was a cloak of despair, the moon mocking me with its cold, indifferent light. I turned the corner to my building, and there it was, my door, or what was left of it, torn off its hinges like some giant had decided to use it as a toothpick. The landlord was gonna have a fit; this was the third time this month.

I stepped over the wreckage, the wood splintered across the floor like bones in a butcher shop, and made my way inside. The place was a mess, papers scattered, furniture overturned, but my eyes were drawn to the table in the center of the room. There, amidst the chaos, lay a single note, its edges sharp against the backdrop of destruction.

I picked it up, the paper crisp, the ink black and bold, like the crow it represented. It read:

"Elridar Moonwhisper, you've stolen what's rightfully mine. The treasure you hold, the Ethereal Apple, bring it to me tonight at midnight in the Grove of Shadows. If you want to see your partner again, alive and well, you'll comply. - The Magpie."

The words hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. The Magpie, that cunning, shadow-clad bastard, was calling the shots now, with Ella as his pawn. My heart raced, not with fear, but with a burning fury. This wasn't just about the Apple anymore; it was about Ella, about redemption, about outsmarting a man who thought he had all the cards.

I slumped into my chair, the only piece of furniture still standing, and let the weight of the situation settle. The Grove of Shadows, part of Shadow University, was no place for the faint-hearted. It was where they trained the city's spies, assassins, and those who lived by the creed of silence. The place was a maze of dark magic and darker intentions, where every shadow could be an enemy.

I glanced at the clock; time was slipping away, each tick a reminder of the deadline. I'd need every ounce of my cunning, every trick in my arcane kit to pull this off. The Magpie wasn't just asking for the Apple; he was setting a trap, I could feel it in my bones. But Ella was in there, somewhere, and I'd be damned if I let him keep her.

I pulled out the pieces of the Apple, laying them on the table, their glow casting eerie shadows on the walls. This was more than just an artifact; it was our lifeline, our way to rewrite the odds. But The Magpie didn't know about the seeds, the true power of the Apple. That was my ace, hidden up my sleeve.

I practiced my sleight of hand, the seeds moving from the Apple to my pocket with a dexterity born from years of thievery and magic. If I could just keep this from him, we might walk away from this, might just see another dawn.

I stood, gathering the Apple pieces, my resolve hardening like the metal in my blade. The night was young, and I had preparations to make. I'd walk into the Grove of Shadows, but I'd walk out with Ella, or I wouldn't walk out at all.

Shadow University wasn't your typical school. It was an institution for those who thrived in the dark, where the curriculum was as much about the silence of a blade as it was about the whisper of magic. Here, they taught the arts of stealth, espionage, poison, and intelligence - skills that made the difference between ruling the shadows and being swallowed by them.

I approached the university's gates, not through the main entrance, which was always under watch, but through a lesser-known path, a smuggler's alley that led to the back of the campus. Even the air felt different here, charged with the potential of unseen threats. The walls of the university were high, covered in ivy that seemed to watch you with a thousand eyes, each leaf a potential spy.

The Grove of Shadows was at the heart of this place, a sacred ground where only the most skilled or the most foolish dared to tread. It was a natural labyrinth, where ancient trees twisted into canopies so thick they blotted out the stars, creating a perpetual twilight. The ground was soft with years of fallen leaves, muffling footsteps to a whisper, and the air was thick with the scent of pine and the magic of silence.

This grove wasn't just a place; it was a test. Students of Shadow University would navigate its paths blindfolded, learning to trust their other senses, to feel the magic in the air, to hear the silent language of the shadows. It was said that the Grove itself judged those who entered, its trees and shadows shifting to aid or hinder, depending on one's intent.

I knew these paths, had once been a student here, or close enough, learning from those who had no official title but were masters of the night. The Grove was a place where your every move was observed, your every breath could be your last if you weren't careful. Magic lingered here, old and potent, the kind that could cloak you or reveal you, depending on how you played the game.

I arrived just before the witching hour, the air cool and laden with the scent of night-blooming flowers, the kind that only opened to reveal their secrets under the cloak of darkness. I moved with the grace of a shadow, my steps silent on the leaf-strewn path, the first piece of the Apple in my hand casting just enough light to guide me without betraying my position.

I chose my spot carefully, where the shadows were thickest, where I could watch the grove's entrance without being seen. I cloaked myself in an illusion, blending into the environment, my heart beating a steady rhythm of anticipation. The Grove was alive with magic, the trees seemed to lean in, listening, waiting.

Midnight struck, and with it, The Magpie made his entrance. The air shifted, a cold wind cutting through the grove like a knife, signaling his arrival. He emerged from the darkness as if he were part of it, his silhouette a darker shade of night, his presence like a chill down your spine. His eyes, sharp and gleaming, scanned the grove, looking for any sign of deceit or ambush.

He was alone, or so it seemed, but I knew better. The Crows were there, hidden in the shadows, their presence felt rather than seen. They were his silent sentinels, his eyes and ears. The Magpie's voice, when it came, was smooth, almost soothing, but with an edge that could cut.

"Elridar Moonwhisper, I knew you'd come," he called out, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness of the grove. "I have what you want, and you have something that belongs to me."

His words were a taunt, a challenge, but I remained silent, my position unknown to him. I watched him, every move, every breath, waiting for the moment to reveal myself. The tension was palpable, the night holding its breath, every shadow around us an ally or an enemy.

The Magpie began to pace, his steps confident, his hands clasped behind his back, a predator in his element. "Show yourself, Moonwhisper, or your friend here will learn the hard way about the price of betrayal."

Then, from behind him, they brought her out. Ella, bound but standing tall, her eyes beaming with a silent promise of resilience. My heart clenched, but my resolve hardened. This was the moment, the game was afoot, and I was ready to play.

I stepped from the shadows, the Apple pieces in my hand, their glow casting an eerie light on the grove. The Magpie's smirk was one of triumph, but I saw the flicker of caution in his eyes. Ella was there, her gaze locking with mine, giving me the strength I needed.

"I see you've decided to be reasonable," The Magpie said, his voice dripping with condescension. He motioned to his Crows, and they brought Ella forward, her steps measured, her eyes never leaving mine.

I walked towards him, each step echoing in the quiet of the Grove, the Apple pieces held out before me. The Magpie inspected them, his fingers tracing the edges, his greed palpable. But I knew his mind was on the power, not on the details.

As I handed over the Apple, I performed my sleight of hand. The seeds, the true essence of the Apple's power, slipped from the piece into my palm, then into my pocket with practiced ease. It was a moment of high stakes, my breath held, my heart pounding under the illusion of calm.

The Magpie, convinced he had secured his prize, nodded, his smirk growing. "Now, for your part of the deal," he said, signaling for Ella's release. The Crows stepped back, and she walked towards me, each step a victory, each moment a test of whether this was the end or just another beginning.

I watched him closely, ready for any sign of betrayal, but my focus was split between him and Ella. As she reached me, our hands touched, a silent communication of relief and readiness. This was the moment of truth, where the tension could snap like a bowstring, where every shadow could turn against us if The Magpie sensed the deception.

The Magpie, with the Apple in his grasp, wore a grin that could only come from believing you've outsmarted everyone. "With that, our transaction for the Apple is complete," he declared, his voice carrying through the Grove like a final judgment. He gave a mocking bow, the kind that said, 'I've won, and you know it.' Then, as he turned to depart, he threw over his shoulder, "But you owe the Crows a blood debt which they intend to collect."

The words were barely out of his mouth when the shadows around us came alive. The Crows, no longer hidden, surged forward, their eyes glinting with malice, their movements swift and silent. They were not just after the Apple; they were after blood, after revenge.

Ella and I didn't hesitate. I kept the Apple seeds hidden, not wanting to give away our ruse, instead I relied upon my tricksy ways that manipulated the shadows, making us blend into the night, our forms shifting like the darkness around us. Ella, quick on her feet, summoned a whirlwind of leaves and dust, obscuring the vision of the Crows.

A Crow lunged at me, his blade aimed for my heart, but with the shadow magic, I was a ghost, stepping aside as he passed through where I had been. I struck back with a spell, a burst of light that disoriented him, sending him crashing into his allies. Ella was already in motion, her spells creating illusions, making it seem like we were many more. We fought, not with the full might of the Apple but with cunning and stealth. We moved with the precision of dancers, every step, every spell calculated to create distance, to confuse, to escape.

A Crow managed to get close, his dagger slicing through the air. I caught it with a shield of force, the impact jarring but effective, sending him sprawling back. Ella, with her agility, dodged another's attack, her counter-spell a brilliant spray of light in a cone that blinded and dazed our foes. We were gaining ground, our knowledge of this place giving us an edge. With a final burst of magic, I cast a spell of silence around us, our footsteps becoming whispers in the night, our escape now a game of stealth rather than speed. We found a lesser-known path, one I had used in my darker days, leading us out of the Grove's heart and into the night.

We looked back at the Grove of Shadows, its dark form a reminder of what we'd just escaped, then turned towards the fetid streets of Arcanea, knowing this was not the end but a new beginning in our ongoing war with The Magpie and his Crows.

I really needed to choose another line of work.

[pianopraze]

Tomorrow is the final chapter in Cipher of the Ancients.

Anyone reading these?

Comments and feedback appreciated.

[pianopraze]

 Chapter 8: The Final Bounce
 
The sight of my office, with its door still hanging off its hinges, was a grim welcome back to reality. Street lamps cast long, jagged shadows through the window, spotlighting the chaos like a noir film’s final act. Papers were strewn across the floor, books knocked from their shelves, and furniture overturned—a stark reminder of our enemies' reach, their claws still lingering in the air.
 
We stepped over the debris, the crunch of wood and paper underfoot echoing like gunfire in the silence, a testament to the violence that defined our lives. The room smelled of old ink, dust, and the lingering scent of magic, but now there was also the bite of cold night air, an intruder in our sanctuary, mocking our attempts at safety. Ella moved with grace among the wreckage, her presence a warm contrast to the cold neglect of the place, her silhouette cutting through the gloom like a beacon I couldn’t quite reach.
 
I made my way to the cabinet, my steps heavy—not just from the night’s events, but from a deeper, more personal battle that gnawed at my gut. My hand shook slightly as I reached for a bottle of aged whiskey, the amber liquid inside promising a temporary escape from the weight of our reality. I poured two glasses, the sound of the whiskey hitting the glass like a soft, comforting melody in the chaos, a siren's call I couldn’t ignore.
 
Ella took her glass, our fingers brushing for a fleeting second—a touch that sent a jolt through me, speaking volumes we both pretended not to hear. We sat at my cluttered desk, the only piece of furniture still standing, our chairs facing each other like two boxers in the ring, an island of calm in the storm. I raised my glass, the liquid catching the dim light, and said, "To surviving another night," my voice rough with the whiskey I’d already consumed and the ache I carried.
 
"To us," Ella replied, her voice a soft echo in the room, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that hinted at more than just survival. We drank, the burn of the whiskey a familiar comfort, my alcoholism always lurking, demanding to be fed, to be acknowledged with each burning sip.
 
There was a moment, as we sat in the silence of the night, where the air between us thickened with something unspoken—a tension that could have been love or just the adrenaline of survival, a line I was too coward to cross. Her gaze lingered on me, a question in those dark eyes, but neither of us moved to answer it. The room felt smaller with just the two of us, the outside world with its dangers and its magic fading into a distant hum. The whiskey was doing its job, dulling the sharp edges of the night, but it couldn’t dull the connection that pulsed between us, raw and uncharted.
 
We talked softly about nothing and everything—the kind of talk that happens when you’ve danced with death and come back to breathe again. Her laugh was low, smoky, and it wrapped around me like a vice I didn’t want to escape. "You ever think we’ll get out of this mess, El?" she asked, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass.
 
"Not alive," I muttered, half-joking, half-serious. "But maybe that’s the point."
 
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "You’re a real charmer, you know that?"
 
I shrugged, the weight of her words settling in. "Charm’s overrated. Survival’s the only currency that matters."
 
I pulled out the seeds from my pocket, letting them roll across the desk amidst the chaos of papers and broken glass. Their glow was faint but undeniable, casting a soft light that pulsed with life, a stark contrast to the decay around us.
 
"Without these," I said, my voice low, "the Apple is just a relic. He’s got nothing but a shell."
 
Her eyes widened, reflecting the seeds’ light, understanding dawning on her face like a sunrise I hadn’t earned. Ella leaned closer, her scent more intoxicating than the whiskey, her gaze fixed on the seeds. "You kept the real power," she murmured, her voice a sultry mix of hunger and relief, and for a moment, I wondered if she was talking about more than just the seeds.
 
The seeds lay scattered on the desk, their small, unassuming forms a silent testament to our triumph. They gleamed slightly in the soft light, each one a promise of growth and potential. Yet, despite their victory, they posed a looming, unanswered question about what to do next. Our conversation unfolded like a careful dance, filled with pauses and unspoken thoughts, as we navigated the minefield of our next move.
 
"The seeds are too potent," Ella said, her voice soft, almost a whisper. "We can’t let them fall into the wrong hands—or the wrong embrace."
 
I nodded, the implication of her words resonating deep in my chest. "They could lead to a dangerous entanglement if not handled with care. Perhaps they should be hidden away, or buried," I suggested, my mind racing with the possibilities of what those seeds could unleash.
 
"Buried, but not lost," Ella agreed, her eyes lowering, a shadow crossing her face. "We owe it to Arcanea to keep them safe."
 
The decision was made; the seeds were too powerful to keep, too dangerous to leave unguarded. We left my office, the night air of Arcanea cool against our skin, carrying with it the whispers of the city’s dark secrets. Our destination was clear: the Grove of Shadows, where we had danced with death and magic just hours before, its ancient trees a silent witness to our struggle.
 
As we approached, the Grove seemed to welcome us back, its shadows deeper, its silence more profound, as if it had been waiting for this moment. We walked with purpose, the seeds in my pocket, their weight a constant reminder of the burden we carried. The ground here felt different, almost as if it recognized our intent, the earth itself pulsing with a quiet reverence. I started to dig, the soil soft and accepting, like it was eager to receive what we were about to offer.
 
Ella stood beside me, her presence a comfort, a silent partner in this ritual. "This feels right," she murmured, her voice blending with the rustle of leaves, as if the Grove itself agreed, its ancient magic humming in approval.
 
I placed the seeds into the earth, their light briefly illuminating the clearing, a silent farewell to their power. We covered them together, our hands brushing again, a touch that burned more than the whiskey ever could. As we stood back, watching the earth reclaim what we had given, there was a sense of finality, of closure. Yet, it was also an act of faith, trusting the Grove, trusting the ancient magic that lay beneath Arcanea to guard what we could not.
 
We remained there for a moment, the Grove feeling like a sanctuary now, not just a battlefield. The magic here was old, respectful of our gesture, perhaps even grateful for it. We had returned something to the earth, to the shadows, acknowledging the balance of power, the need for some secrets to remain just that—secrets.
 
I needed to understand the look in Ella’s eyes—a look that promised more than partnership, but something I wasn’t sure I deserved.
 
I needed a drink.

[pianopraze]

Anyone reading?

Feedback.?

[pianopraze]

I’m published.

I significantly revised these two books. Put a lot more time revising them than writing them initially. 

I have extended the series to five books.

still would love feedback on these first drafts.

thanks!