Ilyan didn't know what he expected when he unrolled the scroll. Perhaps a map to guide him, a simple instruction manual, or maybe just a polite note saying, "Good luck, you're going to need it."
Instead, the words on the scroll immediately began to blur, like watercolors bleeding into each other. And in that moment, Ilyan felt like a fool. Of course, nothing would be simple.
Ashwen, who had been looking over his shoulder, let out a sigh. "Is it supposed to do that?"
"I'm starting to think nothing here is 'supposed' to do anything," Ilyan muttered, shaking the scroll. The words danced again, twirling into impossible shapes before reforming into something legible.
"To find the Fractured Archive," the scroll read, "you must first become unbroken. Do not look for what is missing, for it is not lost. Seek what is hidden behind the fractured walls, beneath the whispers of forgotten truths. Only then will the Archive find you."
"I don't know what that means," Ilyan admitted, crumpling the scroll into a ball and tossing it over his shoulder. It hit a passing bird, and the bird immediately started squawking in a voice that sounded suspiciously like a lawsuit.
"Great," Ashwen said. "So we just wander around until we stumble into a place where reality is frayed, huh?"
Groat, who had been floating lazily around Ilyan's head like an irritated umbrella, spoke up, "Wander? No, no. You absolutely can't wander. You'd be dead by sunset."
Ilyan raised an eyebrow. "You didn't think to mention that sooner?"
"Do you think I tell you everything? Pfft. I'm not your babysitter." Groat paused, adding with a sniff, "And don't you dare go getting any ideas about 'wandering.' If you want to survive this journey, you'll need to understand that in Uvvvaek, every step is deliberate."
"Thanks for the pep talk," Ilyan said dryly.
"Are we sure this is the right path?" Ashwen asked, adjusting her cloak and looking at the strange ruins before them. The Fractured Archive, according to the scroll, was supposed to be somewhere in this area—though Ilyan wasn't sure exactly where.
"Well, if you're asking if this looks like the place where your sanity comes to die, then yes," Ilyan replied, motioning to the cracked landscape around them. The ground here wasn't solid, nor was it liquid—it seemed to shift between both at once. A nearby tree stood with its roots in the air, dripping something metallic onto the ground beneath it.
Groat let out a satisfied hum, "Ah, the Fractured Archive. Welcome. I'd say it's nice, but it's mostly broken."
They began to move forward cautiously, stepping between floating shards of glass that appeared and disappeared without warning. The walls of the Archive, if they could be called that, were made of shifting stone that seemed to rearrange themselves at will.
"You didn't mention any of this before," Ashwen remarked, watching a piece of wall casually float past them. "This place is a mess."
Groat responded nonchalantly. "What's that? A mess? No, no. This is organized chaos. Very high-end."
Ilyan ignored the banter, focusing on the faint pull in his chest—the one that seemed to direct him deeper into the maze of fractured realities. It was like a compass, but with all the grace of a misbehaving child.
"I'm starting to think this whole thing is a scam," Ilyan muttered, looking around. "We've got a talking coin, broken streets, and a quest that only makes sense to people who speak in riddles."
Groat huffed. "You say that as though you weren't just dead a few days ago. Count your blessings, Ilyan. Some people never get the chance to be part of something so... deeply inconvenient."
Ashwen snorted. "Yeah, because everyone dreams of chasing some relic to a library full of existential crises."
"Careful with that," Ilyan warned. "The universe seems to take offense to sarcasm."
"Not universe," Groat corrected, "Uvvvaek. It's a whole different breed of petty."
They continued their trek through the Fractured Archive, the path growing increasingly more bizarre. Shifting walls created new paths as soon as they tried to walk in a straight line. The ground itself seemed to grow spikes at random, and the air was thick with the smell of forgotten memories.
Eventually, they reached a dead-end—or so it appeared. A giant mirror stood before them, cracked and reflecting not just their own images, but entire lifetimes of choices, pasts, and futures.
Ilyan stepped closer. The reflection in the mirror was his, but it didn't look quite right. His face was blurred, his expression one of deep regret. The Ilyan in the mirror took a step forward—then another.
"Okay, I really don't like this," Ilyan said, backing away. "What is this, some kind of test?"
Ashwen, her eyes narrowed, glanced at Groat. "What does this mean?"
Groat let out a long sigh. "Ah, that's the thing about the Fractured Archive. It doesn't just show you what you are. It shows you what you could have been, and what you still could be. And in the end, the hardest part isn't the answers you find—it's the ones you don't."
"That's... helpful," Ashwen said, sarcasm dripping from her words.
Ilyan turned back to the mirror, his brow furrowed. There was something oddly familiar about this version of him. Something unsettling. The reflection raised an eyebrow in response, mirroring his every movement.
"Are we supposed to break it?" Ilyan asked, eyeing the cracks. "It's giving me the creeps."
Groat hummed thoughtfully. "Well, technically, it's the Fractured Archive's job to break itself. I'd just... leave it alone if I were you. You'll have enough breaking to deal with soon enough."
"That's helpful," Ashwen muttered again. "You really ought to be charging for this advice, Groat."
Ilyan gave the mirror one last glance before turning to leave. "Let's keep moving. We're looking for something that can help us use the relic."
They turned down a different hallway, the air growing heavier with each step. The reality around them flickered, like a bad film reel skipping frames.
"Whatever happens," Ilyan said, glancing at Ashwen, "we're in this together. Right?"
Ashwen cracked a small smile. "Of course. What else are we going to do, go back to a normal life? We've already got the universe's weirdest treasure hunt."
"Right." Ilyan grinned despite the situation. "A treasure hunt... with existential dread."
Groat's voice chimed in, "That's the spirit!"
A few more turns, and they reached another room—this one dimly lit, with shelves of relics on either side. A soft glow pulsed from the artifacts, casting long shadows. At the center of the room was a pedestal, and upon it rested an ornate box.
Ilyan stepped forward, sensing the relic's pull once again. He reached out, his fingers brushing the box's surface. The moment he did, the room seemed to shift. The shadows deepened, and a voice echoed through the air.
"You seek the key... but are you willing to pay the price?"
The box opened, revealing a simple, weathered key.
"It's not always about the treasure, Ilyan," Groat murmured, more seriously than Ilyan had ever heard him. "Sometimes, it's the choice of whether you're ready to unlock the things that are buried."
Ilyan hesitated, his fingers hovering over the key. "I'm not ready," he said softly.
But the key, as though in defiance of his hesitation, seemed to call him closer.