Part VI

Part 6

Silence surrounds the low brightness emanating from a sphere of a light that is rocking in a vacuum. Maintained for centuries, the light of the ball barely touches the walls of the huge room that is surrounded by shelves and shelves, alcoves, and maps spread out on the wooden and black stone walls. There levitating in the warm air, the magical sphere awaits the return of its Master Mage: The Ranger of the multiverse. The ceiling is lost in the darkness where converging beams of metal and wood emerge as ageless Gothic symbols. The walls are ringed with storied mezzanines. Spiral staircases connect the floors that are lined with shelves full of manuscripts, parchment rolls, lecterns empty or occupied by unkown grimoires... for a mere mortal. Here, everything seems immortal, frozen in time.

No openings or windows, no clue if it's night or day outside these walls that are riddled with secrets. No door opens on anywhere to discover. A confined space, built around a large wooden floor of alabaster, followed by a series of tables of all sizes. Lots of bottles, books and scrolls found here and there. Unknown instruments, small encompasses, complex statues of angelic and demonic creatures, which are spread all over the tables. It is a cave of information, a den of knowledge. “Our Hall of Wonders!” Ditratos proclaims.

He shouts in a grave voice, the immortal master of the arcane, with arms outstretched in a cross shape surrounded by knowledge stored in these walls. A smile of satisfaction comes across his face. As the pendants light rises, it forms a stunning spiral that remains visible, flashing before his eyes, for a breath, just a moment in time. The Mage knows that it is time for the light to become a fairy. By the time the wings of rainbow sky flapping and Yuna, the fairy rebel, is visible again. In a magical, ageless beauty, the tiny companion rides time in the atmosphere of these places steeped in mystery.

Indeed, inside this very room is the envy of magicians of the multiverse. But no living being knows where this cathedral of mystical knowledge is hidden. Here, side by side is the divine, the Demonomicon, the grimoires of White and Black Magic, the Obituary and Quintessence Draconic. The spine of the Codex of Mad Sorcerer is supported by the study of the Dark Elves and creatures inhabiting Inner Meanders.

A long hand strokes compliance with the binding of this unique compendium. The fingers close on the garnet-colored leather, taken from his motionless eternity. This book holds the secrets of a civilization of darkness. It is potentially dangerous in the hands of an innocent. On the cover, the leather is embossed in mystic runes that look like spiders. Slowly familiar hands bring the volume above the walkway encircling the room. Between those of the White Mage, it is an infallible weapon in the battle looming between three immortals: Yuna, Ditratos and Arachnéida.

Far, far below, near the study tables, a little fairy slips from one corner of the room to the other. When suddenly, the book and the mage plunge into the void. Ditratos begins its descent in perfect levitation. His loose dress unfolds and folds at the action of air flow created by the steep dive. Agile, touched by the reassuring grace of the magic arcane, the mage glides to his fairy friend. Yuna then raises her eyes to her companion of eternity that goes to the central table. Swirling around the man as a light wind, Yuna raises her fists firmly on her hips, showing some of the curiosity of this fairy.

“Sometimes I wonder what these spiral stairs are for if you're there to levitate. It's annoying, you know, this nonsense architecture” the little fairy muses aloud. “Bah! That was when I was a bit limited ... say ... down-to-earth!” said the magician who is landing near Yuna, already sat on the edge of the table. A dull sound accompanies the blast of air that is delivered when the book touches surface of the table. Immediately Yuna flies to the shoulder of her friend.

“Good!” He said, snapping his fingers.

Candlesticks slide on the table and approach the two friends as if guided by an invisible hand. A flame appears on each candle to form a half circle of light around these two companions. They bend their heads over the secrets of the Dark Elves. It is a very dangerous moment beginning here. Many have lost their souls doing this. But Yuna and the White Mage are pilgrims on the road to eternity. Magic is the fiber of their fleshly shroud. Their minds are distorted by the magic touch, which also circulates in the binding of the Codex of the Inner Meanders. So the mystical stream rises and flows like sap in the Arcane tree, sprawling out its roots into the heart of Gaia, the mysterious land of the Dark Elves.