The next morning came, though the term "morning" was not quite accurate in Uvvvaek. The city, stuck somewhere between the metaphysical and the temporal, neither welcomed nor refused the sun. It simply existed, regardless of its position in the sky. As if time itself didn't care to acknowledge the efforts of celestial mechanics.
Ilyan rubbed his eyes and let out a sigh, his fingers brushing the cold, smooth surface of the Relic of Amendment still clutched in his palm. The glass quill was unlike anything he'd ever seen—dark, crackling with an inner energy that pulsed rhythmically, as though it had a heartbeat of its own. The relic's power hummed in a way that he could feel in his bones, but its potential remained frustratingly out of reach.
Ashwen, standing a little further away and inspecting the city around them with a narrowed gaze, had her dagger at the ready. She wasn't sure why, but she trusted the blade more than the city. Uvvvaek had a way of disorienting even the most grounded of souls.
"Where to next?" she asked, turning to Ilyan.
"We need to understand how this works," Ilyan murmured, glancing down at the quill. "This thing feels... dangerous."
Groat, who had been floating lazily in Ilyan's palm, perked up at the mention of the relic. "Dangerous? Please. You're holding a quill of power, not a tooth of danger." The coin paused for a beat. "Though, I suppose 'dangerous' is subjective. You'd do well to be careful."
"I still don't understand," Ilyan muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. "What does it do, exactly?"
"It does what you need it to do," Groat replied cryptically. "But there are rules. And those rules, my dear recently dead friend, are tucked away in places even your newfound powers cannot easily reach."
Ashwen's eyebrow arched. "Places? So, it's not just about using it? There's more to it?"
Groat's voice lowered, taking on a sly edge. "Indeed. The Relic does not answer to anyone—not without the proper context, that is. You need a guide, a path, and an idea of what you're truly asking for."
Ilyan looked at Ashwen, then back to the coin. "So, what? You're suggesting we just wander around until we 'feel it'?"
Groat let out a sound akin to a chuckle. "Wandering is fine for some, but you'll need more than blind faith. I suggest a visit to The Fragmented Scribe, a place known for selling relics of various classes. It may be... unconventional, but the owner knows more than a few things about relics like yours."
"A shop?" Ilyan asked skeptically.
Groat responded with a tone that bordered on condescension. "Oh, it's not just any shop. Think of it as a cross between a library, a museum, and a collection of barely-contained chaos."
Ashwen looked toward the horizon, where the city stretched out, disjointed yet somehow unified in its madness. "Where is it?"
Groat didn't answer immediately. Instead, the coin shimmered slightly before flicking itself from Ilyan's palm and hovering a foot above their heads. "Follow me."
Without another word, Groat began floating off toward the city, its voice reverberating behind them. "Keep up, keep up! The Fragmented Scribe isn't on any map you can read. So, let's make this interesting, shall we?"
Ilyan and Ashwen exchanged a glance, then followed.
The streets of Uvvvaek were labyrinthine, shifting with every step they took. Ilyan had learned by now that getting too comfortable with a street or a building could lead to sudden confusion. It wasn't just the fact that everything seemed warped; it was the fact that Uvvvaek seemed to actively enjoy disorienting its visitors. Each step felt like it bent the fabric of perception, as though the city itself was observing them.
Groat led them through twisting alleyways, past towering spires and strange mosaics, until they finally arrived at a structure that looked as though it had been both constructed and deconstructed at the same time. Its exterior was made of both glass and stone, with cracked windows displaying shelves full of relics—odd trinkets of every size and shape, many seemingly floating in midair. The sign outside was etched in an ancient script that flickered and shifted as they stared at it.
"Here it is," Groat said, his voice tinged with a sense of accomplishment. "The Fragmented Scribe."
Ilyan could sense something strange in the air. A quiet hum, as though the very space around them was alive with energy—containing more than it could comfortably hold. He took a deep breath and followed Ashwen as they entered the shop.
Inside was even stranger than the exterior. The air felt thicker, weighted with the presence of a thousand relics—each with a story, a history, and a destiny that clung to them like an aura. Shelves stacked to the ceiling held glowing stones, curious metals, enchanted masks, and strange, ancient scrolls.
Behind the counter stood a woman. She appeared to be in her late thirties, though her sharp, almost angular features made it hard to discern her exact age. She wore a tunic of iridescent fabric that seemed to shimmer even without light. Her hair was silver, flowing like a liquid stream, and her eyes were a pale blue that glowed faintly in the dim light of the shop.
Her gaze immediately locked onto Ilyan.
"Visitors," she said, her voice rich with an undercurrent of something unspoken. "It's not often that people come seeking the things I sell. Most are here by accident, hoping for a trinket or a relic of low class. But you... you seek something else."
Ilyan swallowed nervously. "We're looking for guidance," he said, his voice quieter than he intended. "A relic. Something that can help us... understand this." He held out the Relic of Amendment.
Her eyes flicked to the relic and then back to him. Her expression remained unreadable. "The Relic of Amendment, you say?" She paused for a long moment, then stepped around the counter and approached them, her steps silent. "It is a dangerous thing. And it is not meant for casual use. Many have sought it before you, and many have been undone by it. I can tell you this: you are not yet ready."
"Then tell us what we need to know," Ashwen demanded, her voice sharp. "We can't waste any more time."
The woman smiled, but it wasn't a reassuring smile. "Time is a luxury in Uvvvaek," she said softly. "But for you, I will make an exception." She reached up and touched the relic delicately, her fingers grazing the glass quill. "You must first understand the nature of this relic. It is not simply an object of power—it is a catalyst. A tool of creation, but also of destruction. It requires a deep understanding of the laws that govern this place. Only then can you truly wield it."
Ilyan felt a chill run down his spine as she spoke. There was something in her tone that suggested she knew much more than she was letting on. She had seen the consequences of the relic in action, and perhaps, she had seen them before.
"I'll give you this," she continued, reaching under the counter and pulling out a small scroll. "This will guide you toward the place where you may unlock the true potential of your relic. But be warned: not all who follow this path return with what they seek."
She handed the scroll to Ilyan, who accepted it with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. "Where does this lead?" he asked.
The woman didn't answer immediately. Instead, she studied him for a long moment, as if weighing his worth. "It leads to the Fractured Archive."
Ashwen stiffened at the name. "The Fractured Archive?" she repeated.
"Yes," the woman said, her voice turning darker. "It is a place where reality itself begins to crumble, where truths unravel and the very fabric of existence is thin. You must go there if you wish to use the Relic of Amendment... but be prepared. You will leave part of yourself behind, whether you succeed or fail."
Ilyan felt a shiver run through him. He had no idea what he was getting himself into, but one thing was certain: there was no turning back now.
He nodded. "Thank you."
The woman gave a slight, knowing smile. "May your journey be more than you bargain for, Ilyan of the Recently Dead."
And with that, they left the shop, the scroll in hand, and the weight of a thousand truths bearing down on them.