Merial had always loved the University of Ny'theras at dawn. The ancient crystal towers caught the first light of day, transforming it into a kaleidoscope of colors that danced across the courtyards and gardens. In these early hours, before the bustle of students and faculty filled the hallways, she could almost hear the whispers of knowledge accumulated over centuries — secrets waiting to be discovered, mysteries yearning to be solved.
But this morning, as she hurried through the familiar corridors toward the Archives, those whispers seemed more urgent, more insistent. Three days had passed since her encounter with the Dead Zone in the abandoned temple of Olkaris, and the questions raised by that experience haunted her every waking moment.
The entity within the Dome — the First, as both Nora and Ithor had called it — had communicated directly with Prince Karel. It had spoken of a choice, of freedom versus a more perfect prison. And most disturbing of all, it had identified three individuals who would somehow determine the outcome of this choice: the Bearer, the Word, and the Broken Bond.
Roles that apparently belonged to Karel, herself, and the wounded Naruun exile currently recovering in a secure chamber of the University's medical wing.
Merial shook her head, still struggling to accept the implications. All her life, she had been taught that the Dome was a natural phenomenon, a protective barrier shielding Inhevaen from external chaos. The idea that it might instead be a prison, constructed to contain some ancient entity of immense power, challenged everything she believed about her world.
Yet the evidence was becoming difficult to ignore. The increasing frequency and unusual locations of Dead Zones. The corrupted runic patterns she had detected within them — patterns that, to her unique perception, resembled fragments of communication rather than random energy fluctuations. The unprecedented manifestation of all seven gifts in Prince Karel during his Awakening ceremony.
And then there was Ithor, the Naruun exile whose severed bond with his Anirû companion somehow persisted beyond death. His story of manipulation by Nora — or the Weaver, as she apparently called herself — aligned too perfectly with their own experience to be coincidence.
Merial reached the entrance to the Archives, a massive door of ancient wood reinforced with bands of enchanted metal. Normally, she would need special permission to access this section, particularly at such an early hour. But three days ago, upon her urgent return from Olkaris with a wounded Ithor and a formal request from Prince Karel, Master Archivist Thelian had granted her unrestricted access.
"Find the truth," the ancient Sylarei had told her, his expression grave. "Whatever it may be. The time for half-measures and selective knowledge has passed."
She placed her palm against the recognition panel beside the door, feeling the familiar tingle as the enchantment verified her identity and permissions. The massive door swung open silently, revealing the vast chamber beyond — a cathedral of knowledge, its walls lined with shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with books, scrolls, and crystal memory matrices that contained the accumulated wisdom of the Sylarei race.
Merial moved purposefully through the main chamber toward a smaller door at the far end — the entrance to the Restricted Archives, where the University's most sensitive and potentially dangerous knowledge was kept. This section was typically accessible only to senior faculty and specialized researchers, but Thelian's authorization extended even here.
Another palm scan, another door opening to reveal a more intimate space, its contents organized not by subject but by security classification. Merial had been here only once before, when researching her thesis on anomalous Dome energy patterns. Even then, her access had been limited to specific shelves and closely supervised.
Now, she moved directly to the section marked with the symbol of the Dome — a simple circle containing seven smaller circles, representing the barrier that surrounded their world and the seven races that inhabited it. Here were collected the oldest texts about the Dome's nature, origins, and purpose — texts that, according to both Nora and Ithor, might contain truths deliberately hidden from the general population.
Merial began methodically examining the shelves, pulling out volumes that seemed most relevant to her search. Some were written in ancient forms of Sylarei script that few modern scholars could read; others contained diagrams and equations describing the Dome's energy patterns in mathematical terms that would have been incomprehensible to most.
But Merial was not most people. Her gift for understanding languages — both spoken and written — had manifested early and strongly, marking her as exceptional even among the linguistically talented Sylarei. Combined with her unusual ability to perceive corrupted runic patterns in Dead Zones, it had made her both a valuable researcher and something of an outsider among her peers.
She carried her selected texts to a reading table and began her examination, quickly becoming absorbed in the ancient knowledge. Hours passed unnoticed as she moved from one volume to another, taking careful notes, cross-referencing information, gradually assembling a picture that was both fascinating and disturbing.
The oldest texts did indeed present a different narrative about the Dome than the one commonly taught. They spoke not of a natural protection but of a constructed prison, created through the combined efforts of the seven original ancestors — the progenitors of the current races. They described the imprisoned entity not as chaos or destruction, but as a being of immense power and consciousness — the creator of Inhevaen itself, referred to simply as "the First."
Most intriguingly, several texts mentioned a cycle — a periodic weakening of the Dome that occurred at intervals of approximately two thousand years. During these times, the texts claimed, the First would attempt to communicate with the inhabitants of Inhevaen, seeking either release or a renewal of its imprisonment under different terms.
And each cycle, three individuals would emerge who would determine the outcome: one who could channel the Dome's energy directly (the Bearer), one who could interpret the First's communications (the Word), and one who could bridge the gap between realms (the Broken Bond).
"Just as Nora said," Merial murmured to herself, a chill running down her spine despite the warmth of the Archives. "But why would this information be restricted? Why not make it common knowledge, especially if the cycle is predictable and recurring?"
The answer came in the next text she examined — a personal journal written by a Sylarei scholar who had lived during the previous cycle, approximately two thousand years ago. The account was fragmentary, with many pages missing or damaged, but what remained was illuminating:
"...the three emerged as foretold, but discord arose among them regarding the choice. The Bearer favored strengthening the prison, fearing the consequences of the First's freedom. The Word advocated for a middle path — maintaining the imprisonment but establishing clearer communication with the entity. The Broken Bond, influenced by forces we did not anticipate, pushed for complete liberation..."
Several pages were missing at this point, the narrative resuming with:
"...aftermath was catastrophic. Thousands dead, entire settlements destroyed before the prison could be reinforced. The Broken Bond's betrayal nearly resulted in the First's escape, which would have meant the end of Inhevaen as we know it. The Council of Seven has therefore decreed that knowledge of the cycle and the three roles shall be restricted to those with the highest clearance, to prevent manipulation of future Bearers, Words, and Broken Bonds by outside interests..."
Merial sat back, her mind racing with implications. If this account was accurate, the previous cycle had nearly ended in disaster due to manipulation of one of the three key individuals — specifically, the Broken Bond. This explained the secrecy, the restricted knowledge, the careful monitoring of Dead Zones and other Dome anomalies.
It also cast Nora's actions — and those of her mysterious Lady of Shadows — in an even more sinister light. They weren't simply seeking truth or liberation; they were deliberately attempting to manipulate the three individuals who would determine the outcome of the current cycle, potentially risking a catastrophe similar to the one described in the journal.
But something still didn't make sense. If the University Council and other authorities knew about the cycle, knew that three individuals would emerge with specific roles to play, why hadn't they been more proactive? Why allow Karel to undergo his Awakening ceremony without special preparation? Why assign Merial, with her unique ability to perceive corrupted runic patterns, to research Dead Zones without warning her about what she might discover?
Unless...