Seed of Hope

Chapter 3: The Twilight Realm

As usual, the three friends had returned to their quarters in the vast library of the ruined city. The enormous main room had colossal shelves stretching so far that they faded into a light obscurity, dotted with floating halos of light. Each shelf was laden with the weight of books, scrolls, and rolls, each of a different size, shape, and texture, as if they hailed from entirely distinct worlds. The floor, made of dark marble with golden veins, barely echoed under their footsteps, creating a light and unreal sound.

Above their heads, a vaulted ceiling appeared to be made of stained glass that reflected a shifting light, sometimes soft, sometimes bright, showcasing hues of purple and gold. This timeless place was bathed in a light that belonged to neither sun nor star. No sound disturbed the serenity of this spot, save for the rustle of pages turned by Aisling's eager fingers or the whispers of the young humans.

Outside the library, the ghost town stretched under ice and snow, a deserted place where not a soul lived. Wide cobblestone avenues and majestic buildings, all abandoned, had remained still for seemingly centuries, basking in this twilight glow. Here, there was no wind, no birdsong, not even the sound of time passing. Only their presence animated the area, making it vibrate with a life it seemed to have not known for millennia.

Aisling had immersed herself in this library for ten years, returning again and again, devouring every book within her reach. She spent hours, sometimes entire days in this place, leaving only when cold, hunger, thirst, or fatigue became unbearable. She roamed the shelves, studying scrolls that sometimes appeared as old as the stars themselves. At first, she understood only a small part of what she read.

Then, with unwavering patience, she learned to read and decipher. Comparing texts with each other, studying symbols, she gradually mastered some of the angelic languages, demonic tongues, and even older dialects. Each text she deciphered opened the doors to a lost knowledge a little wider, revealing a universe much vaster and more complex than anything she had imagined.

"All this time... and we know so little..." she thought, lightly brushing her fingers over the binding of an ancient manuscript written in a language that would leave any ordinary human perplexed. But not Aisling. Not after all she had learned here, in this timeless place.

As she grew, both physically and intellectually, a sense of vertigo overwhelmed her. What she discovered in the pages of this library revealed to her each day how ignorant humanity was, reclusive in its corner of Nimrach, living off tales of long-lost heroes and nurturing dreams of justice without understanding the reality of the universe surrounding them.

When she wasn't reading, Aisling tried to study the local plants and cultivate them. Yet, despite all her efforts, none of them had ever taken root, mostly because of the snow and the lack of sun. No blade of grass, no flower responded to her care here, even inside the buildings. And never, ever, had Aisling dared to bring back seeds to Nimrach. Fenja ensured that what came from the Twilight Realm remained there. There was no question of mixing the two worlds, of risking a contamination or disruption whose consequences they didn't yet fully understand.

While Aisling read, Fenja leaned over a large map spread out on the marble floor of the library, a parchment she had drawn over the course of their visits to the Twilight Realm. Kneeling, she traced with her fingertips the winding lines representing the contours of the ruins and the hidden paths of this frozen world. As a good huntress, she often took advantage of the long hours spent here to explore the surroundings, neglecting the books in favor of the nearby nature.

Over the years, she had mapped as many corners of this mysterious twilight land as she could, gradually piecing together a patchwork through patience. From crumbling mountains to petrified forests, each discovery was meticulously noted on her parchment. She returned from her solitary expeditions with pockets full of smooth stones, plants of strange colors, and sometimes even bleached bones, remnants of a bygone era that no one could truly explain.