"Why did we arrive in some random tower outside the city?" Rydin remarked.

"Better question would be where is the security?" Isla added.

"True," he remarked as he peered upwards, his gaze enraptured by Arcadia's white star. "Think they don't care?"

"Maybe. Too hard to say. But anyone possessing real danger can arrive through other means."

"Like?"

"Base aura," she explained. "Materializing—the technical term."

"What? Wait a minute," Rydin exclaimed. "Is that even possible?"

"For the powerful, yes." She paused then added. "For you? No."

"It's remarkable how rude you are to others. How do you have any friends?"

"Emotions are irrelevant."

"You mean irrelevant when people are trying to kill you?"

"That's right. You're learning Rydin."

Rydin's brow wrinkled and his gaze chilled as his conversational mood scattered. Isla spared him no more glances, instead, she stared down the neat stone inlaid road. Soon, they would see Fin Ardin. The massive library and its self-created city.

She held her view stationary, shunning the shiver-inducing woods beside them. A bizarre conglomeration of oddly shaped ash-colored trees plagued the forest. They appeared as bunches, bent in unnatural ways, twisting around clumps or swerving horizontally past others. If not for the striking azure blue leaves dominating her attention, she would have preferred another route. For when the light hit them, they blurred, shimmering a haze of colors.

"Freaky woods," Rydin voiced as if mimicking her thoughts.

"Not the weirdest sight out there."

"Oh yeah? What else have you seen?"

His words sparked her search through forgotten memories. "Hallucinogenic swamps, man-eating bugs, flame-spitting rivers, blood-soaked lakes, more or less."

"Hmm...," Rydin remarked then added. "I wonder if those places have their own stories like that mountain." He pointed northbound as they veered from the forest edge. The open plains widened, segmenting the landscape and distancing the treetops to expose the white-tipped mountain.

"What about it?"

"Mount Avia. It's a rumored holy mountain that houses Arcadia's spirit."

Isla yawned, covering her open mouth. "Oh? This world has a conscious?"

"Sounds like it. It might be fun to check out," he declared, his head turned tight toward the mountain peak.

"Don't you have better things to deal with? Like finding a cure for Leef?"

Rydin sighed. "I wasn't being serious, Isla. At least not now. Maybe later. What do you think?"

"You can go yourself. I have no interest and no time for useless adventures."

"Useless adventures? Seeing the truth for yourself isn't useless. But I guess those after you wouldn't give you the leisure for such. Right?"

"Rydin. No matter how many times you bring up my situation, I'm not talking about it."

"You sure?" he challenged.

"Yes."

His quiet mouth clenched shut, but his snicker still escaped.

"You find this funny?"

"Yes," he countered.

She growled but avoided responding further. What was his problem? Why declare himself an annoyance so openly?

Laughter exploded from Rydin as he strolled beside her. "Seriously, Isla? Never thought you'd have such a childish side to you."

She ignored his character comment and observant eye until they reached the city's front entrance. Ahead, an open metal gate greeted them, the bars twisted to form delicate vines and leaves. The unnamed city housed the well-known center of knowledge in Arcadia—Fin Ardin.

"What?" Rydin exclaimed while pivoting full circle. "Did you just feel that?"

She shook her head. "No, likely a barrier for detection." Still, without her seal removed, sensing magic proved impossible.

"Makes sense, but how?" he replied, but gazed elsewhere, examining their surroundings for the hidden magic engravings.

"Stop searching for the source. There might be eyes about," Isla chided, dragging him forward.

"Fine, fine, but stop pulling me."

She released her grip and entered the city, Rydin trailing her lead. The landscape unfolded before them, large texture coated buildings looming over narrow stone streets. The architecture's uniqueness bore front and center, from different colors and materials to structural deficiencies maintained by magic. She watched Rydin's face swerve each way while his trek bordered on destructive through the crowds. After his fifth collision and angry admonishment, he stopped, joining her stride.

"Are those all magically infused items?" Rydin asked.

"Probably."

"So many of them," he voiced, trailing off.

Isla peered at his lean, silent frame. Magic, huh. Some would say the possibilities were endless. Still, his same level of excitement escaped her.

Rydin interrupted their quiet walk, "How did you learn about magic?"

Her brow scrunched and she clamped her mouth shut. With one second of peace, he returned twofold, striking her deep. Did one call this innocence or ignorance?

"Isla?" he questioned while watching her.

She sighed. "Because I can use magic."

He paused, but finally spoke, "Was this another bad topic?"

"Correct."

His questioning ended with her snipped short response. Still, she knew his mind archived his remaining inquiries. Truly, he would not stop. Unlike him, she thought straight. If she explained one piece, then countless questions would ensue. Complicated. How else could she describe her situation? Forget it.

Isla lowered her lashes and peeked at him. He watched her. Her gaze snapped back ahead.

She shook her head slightly and her hands clenched. She was overthinking this. He knew nothing. No, he would know nothing, ever and always. She couldn't tell him.

Turning a corner, they strode onto a long cobblestone pathway packed with trees on both sides.

"Fin Ardin is at the road's end. You can see it over the treetops," Rydin said while shading his vision with a hand. "Hopefully, they'll let us in."

She relaxed her fists from his words. Her eyes traveled to the soaring high white structures ahead. "You mean, because we aren't Seraphines?"

"Yeah, that's right. I've heard Seraphines can be quite prideful," he murmured low as gray-robed scholars passed by their pair.

"Is it pride, or the fact that all other Humans submit themselves to the Gods? They aren't called the Betrayers for nothing, you know."

"Not sure which is the correct answer."

"Maybe none at all, hard to stay," Isla added.

Rydin chuckled. "Possibly," he voiced before his tone dulled, "But I can see why. Imagine the Gods tormenting you for years. For them who age slower, reliving that nightmare over and over is probably unimaginable. I pity them. And I can only hope things get better for us all."

Pitiful—the single word rang clear and close to Isla.

"Looks like we're here," Rydin continued.

At his proclamation, Fin Ardin's entrance became visible. Unlike the city's general structure, the extravagant edifice sung with unity. Pale stone-colored walls became a darkened background against the pure white marble columns lining the perimeter, both outside and inside. Yet, their bold color wept beneath their massive size.

Beyond the open-faced exterior, a floating luminescent yellow sphere rotated between two pikes. The central figure cascaded equal warmth and light upon the space.

Rydin halted as they entered. "Another barrier?"

"Extra protection and control for a place of knowledge," Isla replied.

"Makes sense, but the hallways located on the ceiling don't," he stated with chin tilted upwards.

The room looked much like a honeycomb. Hallway frames occupied every direction, but their stretch remained invisible.

"No clue."

Isla's gaze scoured the central hub and the robe goers intermingling. She followed a gray dusted pair as they disappeared through a blockaded hallway entrance, the wall shimmering behind them. Figures, they needed access.

Beside the corridor and between the exit, a spiderwebbed brass designed table stood. Though an intricate craft, the three identical pale-skinned girls behind garnered her attention. Their cropped short brown hair and large oval-shaped green eyes scrutinized them. An unfriendly thin line defined their mouths, accentuating their high boned faces.

"Are they eyeing us?" Rydin whispered.

"Looks like they know we don't belong here."

He scratched his face. "Right. But maybe they'll be able to explain how we get access."

"Maybe, but it also looks like they'll gut us dry," she mentioned.

"True. Though you never know, they might be nicer than their death glares," Rydin joked then added. "Well, what's the worst that can happen?" He walked toward the watchful girls without her response. "Ladies, could you help us find our way?"

Isla smirked. Well, look at him go.

They stared, unmoving and unflinching at him.

"We're new around here. So we'd like some assistance," Rydin continued, placing his hands on the desk and leaning forward. "Whatever we need to do. We'll do it."

"You wish to enter the grand Fin Ardin?" snorted the middle girl.

Isla drowned the desire to roll her eyes. What's with their superior acting—pathetic.

"Yes," Rydin responded.

Her slight smile returned as she watched Rydin's firm reaction.

"Hmm, well, we'll see what you can do, won't we, Normal," the middle girl continued as her doubles snickered beside her. From behind the desk, she retrieved a small opaque orb. "Place your hand on top," she ordered.

He followed her request, placing his open palm against the orb. The center liquified from his touch, glowing a faint gold. Gradually, the squirming nature desisted, and the liquid became a defined point.

"Oh? He passes—interesting," the left girl commented, her eyebrows rising.

"Pureblood descent?" the right girl mused, glancing at her sisters.

The middle girl snatched the orb back, the symbol disappearing from sight. "Fine, you meet the criteria, and are welcomed to Fin Ardin."

Rydin stepped back, his gaze flickering towards Isla who watched on. "Her too."

Their attention transferred to her. She assumed they were Sight See-ers—capable of identifying one's race based on their soul. Their ability to judge Rydin as a Centurion clarified her assumption. If she was a God, they'd recognize the misty blue, much similar to her hair, representing the race. But first, she would have to reveal her soul.

"Well?" the one behind the desk said, clicking her tongue.

She trapped the excess folds of her cloak between her fingerpads, rubbing the rough wool. She meant no harm. But would they understand? Would they see that?

Still, she had no choice.

Isla ended her hesitation. She released the seal binding and concealing her aura. A simple action. She imagined the figurative blockade, a wall solid and firm, once she created the thought, the locking mechanism sustaining the magic etchings on her body dissolved. At first, the symbols remained invisible, but release ignited their vibrant hue. Only problem—she glowed like a stupid candle without the flicker.

Isla watched their instant change, eyes darkening and mouths creasing. They continued to exchange pale looks, maintaining a silent conversation.

"Isla, your aura," Rydin exclaimed, "how is it so strong? I can feel it."

"What? How is this possible. A God. Why is there a God here?" the middle girl interjected, her voice screeching.