Sword in hand, Alex stepped out. He stretched his shoulders as the cool air brushed against his skin and ruffled his hair. He paused, letting the sound ground him in a world that still felt precarious.
Looking around, his eyes settled on Roric and Malach as they worked in unison, muscles straining as they chopped at a fallen tree. Wood splintered and cracked with each strike, sending up a spray of sawdust and the faint, earth scent of pine.
The scene struck Alex as almost ordinary, almost comforting, yet the tension in their stance, the lines etched into their faces, reminded him that “ordinary” was a fragile illusion here.
“Morning,” Alex said softly, stepping closer.
Roric looked up, squinting against the sunlight as he wiped sweat from his brow. A tight smirk tugged at his lips. “Enjoy your beauty sleep, Dawson?”
Alex sighed. “Better than sleeping under a cursed tree.”
Roric paused, blinked, then let out a laugh. “Indeed, it is.”
Malach’s expression hitched. For a brief moment, his swing stalled midair before the axe came crashing down again. The impact echoed through the clearing, the vibration traveling up through Alex’s boots.
“I’m glad you slept well,” Malach said, resting his axe against the tree trunk, his gaze lingering on the black blade at Alex’s side. “Fine sword you have there.” He tilted his head slightly. “Isn’t it, Sir Roric?”
“For the love of all things holy, I told you, Roric is perfectly fine,” Roric said, lifting his axe and driving it into the wood. Splinters burst outward.
Malach chuckled. “Forgive me. It’s just… you remind me of someone. A fine young man, much like yourself.”
“Well, I’m sure he was just as handsome,” Roric replied with a grin.
For a moment, Alex remained silent, studying his sword as it shimmered faintly in the morning glow.
“Mnemosyne’s Silence,” he whispered.
The air shifted.
Sensing the change, his gaze drifted from the blade to the two lumberjacks, then toward the forest. Their voices dulled, fading into the background.
‘Just exhausted,’ he thought, recalling Morpheus’s explanation of the corrupted glade. Alex had decided that the glade would remember him for finishing what he started.
Thinking back, he frowned. What exactly had he meant?
“Something on your mind?” Malach’s voice snapped Alex out of his focus.
“Um… yeah. Last night, you said something,” Alex hesitated. “You mentioned Mnemosyne’s Silence.”
The clearing seemed to still. Silence pressed in, heavy and consuming.
“Yes,” Malach said at last, his gaze fixed on the blade. “That’s the sword’s name.” His jaw tightened slightly. “From your expression, you didn’t know what you were holding, did you?”
Alex didn’t answer. He simply turned toward Roric.
“Hey, don’t look at me,” Roric said quickly, raising both hands. “Lady Elenora personally selected that sword. I merely delivered it.”
A faint smile touched Malach’s lips, but it faded almost at once. His eyes returned to the blade, his expression turning distant, bitter, as though something old had stirred. A memory he hadn’t meant to disturb.
He cleared his throat.
“Mnemosyne,” he began slowly, “was said to be a being that existed beyond this world. There are no surviving scriptures that describe her, only scattered whispers carried through forgotten ages. All that remains is her name.” His voice softened. “Mnemosyne. A word believed to mean memory. Or remembrance.”
Alex tightened his grip on the hilt, suddenly aware that he was not holding a weapon, but a memory that refused to fade.
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For a moment, no one spoke.
The forest seemed to lean inward, leaves whispering softly as the wind slipped between the skeletal branches. Somewhere deeper within the glade, something shifted, or perhaps it only felt that way.
Alex exhaled slowly, forcing the strange heaviness from his chest. looking around, his brow furrowed. “Where’s Iris?”
Malach, now leaning on the haft of his axe, gave a slow nod. “By the lake.”
“Lake?” Alex frown deepened.
“Ahh right,” Roric paused. And then pointed “Just follow the path, Behind the cabin”
A lump rose in Alex’s throat. His steps carried him forward without second thought, following the faint path that led through the undergrowth. Leaves crunched underfoot, the earthy scent of moss and damp wood filling his senses. Birds called in the distance, and for a fleeting moment, the world seemed gentle, unaware of the dangers lurking beyond the forest’s edge.
When the trees parted, Alex froze.
Before him, a mirror of silver stretched, reflecting the sky and the distant mountains that rose beyond its far shores. Mist hugged the water’s edges, curling over rocks and reeds. The mountain’s jagged peaks vanished into drifting clouds. A breeze rippled across the water, sending tiny waves dancing and catching the morning sun.
Iris stood at the water’s edge, still and silent, her gaze fixed across the lake.
Alex’s heart tightened, a mixture of relief, concern, and awe flooding him all at once. Here, she looked… untouchable, yet human, her posture relaxed, yet her eyes alert.
“Iris…” he called gently, unsure if he had the right words for the quiet she had stepped into.
She turned slowly, hair swaying gently, sunlight glinting against its edges. A faint, almost imperceptible smile softened her expression. Then, pointing across the lake, she said, “Beyond the water… the Sunken Archives.”
Alex followed her gesture, taking in the mountains, the jagged peaks cutting against the sky. The Archives seemed impossibly far, its shadows stretching across the mirrored surface of the lake like a promise of challenge, or perhaps danger.
He swallowed hard, gaze turned to Iris who watched the distant mountains with a soft smile. The light that kissed her face made her look rather… eye-catching, the light made her brown eyes glitter, in them the distant mountains reflected.
Alex remained quiet, the sight of her glancing at their final destination made his heart stutter just for a second. He turned towards them. ‘The sunken archives…’ the thought settled in.
Looking down Alex's own reflection stared back as the subtle waves washed ashore, revealing detail he hadn’t noticed until he saw them, his black leather armor’s top layer was torn in a few places. Dusty, it was missing some reinforcements, just a few.
He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, the air was crisp and sweet, the scent of moss and algae filled his nose. ‘Almost there’ he whispered inwardly. ‘Just a little longer Elenora.’ A soft smile touched his lips.
“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” Iris said softly, glancing sideways at him.
Alex blinked. “Uh, what?”
“Lady Elenora.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “You always look like that when her name comes up. Like you’re standing halfway between hope and regret.”
Alex exhaled through his nose, relieved, though he didn’t fully understand why. “Well...Uh… it’s not like that”
Iris gaze lingered on him for a moment before she turned back toward the lake, her eyes tracing the distant mountains. “She carries a lot on her shoulders. More than most realize.”
They stood in silence for a moment, the water lapping softly against the shore.
“I used to envy people like her,” Iris said suddenly. “Those born into importance. Into power. I thought it meant safety. Certainty.” She shook her head faintly. “Turns out it just means your losses are larger.”
Alex shifted, listening.
“My village was small,” she continued. “Too small to matter. Tucked between trade routes, forgotten by everyone except passing merchants.” Her fingers curled slightly at her side. “Until one season, when the Gloom appeared. Then suddenly, we mattered very much.” Her voice didn’t tremble, but something tight lingered beneath it.
“When it was over, there was nothing left to return to.” She inhaled slowly. “Since then, I’ve learned that belonging is fragile. It can vanish overnight.”
She finally turned to him, studying his face. “You have that look sometimes. Like someone dropped you into a place you don’t fully understand, and you’re trying to pretend you do.”
Alex felt his throat tighten.
“Maybe I’m wrong,” she added, softer. “But it’s a lonely look.”
He searched for a response, something honest yet safe, but before he could speak…
“What a sight to behold.”
They turned.
Roric approached from behind, arms crossed, posture relaxed, though his eyes were alert. He followed Iris’s earlier gesture, letting out a low whistle. “And there she is,” he said. “The Sunken Archives.”
Carefully studying the world that stretched before them, Roric's voice turned rough but steady “Going around would take months.”
“We cross it,” Iris said simply, with a certainty that made Alex swallow. Her gaze didn’t waver, yet he caught the tension in her shoulders, the faint flex of her fingers against her tunic.
“Cross… the lake?” Alex’s voice wavered, caught between disbelief and fragile hope.
His eyes drifted back to the vast silver mirror stretching before them, beautiful beyond words, vast enough to swallow entire worlds. And yet, beneath that serene surface, danger surely waited. A body of water this immense could never be empty.
Alex understood that without needing Morpheus to explain.
[LitRPG] [Cultivation] [Crafting] [Smart MC]
Synopsis (Click to Expand)
To transcend the heavens, one must first forge the ladder.
He is a Cultivator who values volume over speed.
He is a Chronicler who will not stop at the sky.