"What is this document?" Saguna finally found his voice and asked his two new companions.
"Forget about the document, did you feel that burning just now?" Osa interrupted, his usual confident demeanor replaced with genuine concern.
Radji walked over and took a detailed look at the ancient text. The parchment was yellowed with age, its edges curling slightly against the obsidian display case. Unlike the other documents in the archive, this one seemed to shimmer with an inner light, the characters appearing to shift subtly even as he stared at them.
"It appears to be a treatise on the Veil Spirit Arts," Radji said, adjusting his glasses as he leaned closer. "According to the translation panel, it describes different levels of spirit interaction—Veil Sight, Veil Speech, Veil Walking, and Veil Binding." He frowned. "Curious. I've never heard these terms in any of the standard historical texts."
"What do you mean by burning?" he asked, finally addressing Osa's question while eyeing him with disbelief.
"When I touched Saguna, I felt like someone pressed a hot coal against my chest," Osa explained, one hand unconsciously moving to the spot over his heart.
"I felt a headache, it is more hurting than burning," Saguna finally said, his fingers massaging his temples. "Can we get out of this room?"
They walked slowly toward the exit while Saguna tried to subdue his headache. As soon as they stepped out of the Veil Archives, his pain subsided noticeably. The pounding receded to a dull throb, then disappeared entirely once they were a few dozen yards away.
"Better?" Osa asked, walking beside Saguna while keeping a careful distance, as if afraid another touch might trigger the strange sensation again.
Saguna nodded. "What did you say that document was about?" he asked Radji. "Honestly, my head was pounding so badly in there I could barely focus."
Radji's brow furrowed as he consulted their assignment map. "The document mentioned four tiers of spirit arts practiced in ancient Zendirah. It's quite peculiar that the room contains several texts about spirits, all in ancient language." He folded the map with precise movements. "Perhaps Master Damian will mention them in his future lectures. Anyway, let's proceed to our next location. Perhaps you'll feel better there."
Their next destination was the Tranquility Garden, a secluded oasis nestled between the academy's eastern buildings. As they approached, the sound of flowing water greeted them—a large fountain stood at the center, water cascading from carved stone hands reaching toward the sky. In one corner stood a gigantic banyan tree, its aerial roots hanging like curtains from the branches, creating intimate spaces beneath its canopy.
"Now this is more like it," Osa said, his smile returning as he stretched his arms above his head. "After all that dusty history, I could use some fresh air."
"The garden was established during the first century of the Academy," Radji read from the information panel. "It represents the harmony between the elemental domains: water from the Azure Depths, stones from the Ember Isles, plants from the Verdant Coils, and open sky honouring the Whispering Peak."
As Saguna walked deeper into the garden, he felt a curious lightness replacing his earlier discomfort. The whispers that had plagued him in the archive were silent here, replaced by the gentle sound of water and rustling leaves. He found himself drawn to the banyan tree, its massive trunk gnarled with age, the dangling roots creating a natural sanctuary.
"This place feels... safe," he said, surprising himself with the admission.
Osa nodded, trailing his fingers through the fountain water. "I know what you mean. It's like the opposite of that archive. I can actually breathe here."
Radji observed them both with clinical interest. "Fascinating. Both of you experienced physical reactions to the archive, and now you're having the inverse response to this garden.
Saguna walked over and sat beneath the ancient banyan tree. Its sprawling canopy cast a protective shadow that shielded him from the sun's harsh glare. The coolness against his skin was a welcome relief after the stifling atmosphere of the archives. He closed his eyes, allowing the gentle sounds of flowing water and rustling leaves to wash over him. Maybe everything will be alright after all, he thought, his mother's words echoing in his mind.
The melody of the fountain's water mingled with the soft whisper of the breeze through the banyan's leaves. For the first time since arriving at the academy—perhaps even longer—Saguna felt his shoulders relax. The constant tension that had been his companion for years eased slightly.
But the moment of peace was short-lived.
A prickling sensation crawled up the back of his neck, spreading across his scalp. The three marks on his neck began to throb in unison. Suddenly, Saguna couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.
His eyes snapped open, darting around the garden. Osa remained by the fountain, letting the water slip through his fingers with an expression of childlike fascination. Radji stood a few paces away, methodically recording notes about the garden in a small leather-bound journal.
Neither seemed to notice anything amiss, yet the sensation of being observed only intensified. Slowly, Saguna tilted his head upward.
Among the dense foliage of the banyan tree, something moved. Not the natural swaying of leaves in the breeze, but a deliberate shifting of shadows. Two points of light gleamed within the darkness—eyes, watching him with unnerving intensity.
Saguna tried to call out to his companions, but his voice caught in his throat. A paralysis crept through his limbs, starting at his fingertips and spreading inward. His heart hammered against his ribs, the only part of him that seemed able to move.
The shadow among the branches grew more defined. Long, spindly fingers emerged from the darkness, reaching down toward him. The fingers stretched impossibly, elongating until they were close enough to brush against Saguna's cheek.
He couldn't move. Couldn't scream. Couldn't even close his eyes.
The shadow's grip tightened, cold fingers wrapping around Saguna's shoulders. With terrifying strength, it began to lift him from the ground. His feet dangled helplessly as he rose inch by inch toward the waiting darkness
The eyes grew larger as he approached, hollow sockets housing pinpricks of pale light. A face began to form around them—feminine, familiar, and horrifically wrong. The features shifted between those of a young woman and a corpse.
When it spoke, the voice was both a whisper and a scream, bypassing his ears to resonate directly in his mind:
"My dear brother, have you forgotten about me?"
The voice was his sister's—Sahara—just as he remembered from childhood. But there was something else beneath it, something ancient and hungry that merely wore his sister's voice like an ill-fitting mask.
"You left me there," the voice continued, the fingers tightening painfully. "Between the worlds. Neither living nor dead. Did you think you could escape by running to Meridian? The Veil is thinner here, brother. I can reach you more easily."
The shadow pulled him closer. The smell of wet earth and decay filled his nostrils. Saguna felt his consciousness beginning to slip away, darkness creeping in from the edges of his vision.
"The Triumvirate awakens," the shadow hissed, its voice changing, multiplying into a chorus of whispers. "But you're not ready. None of you are ready for what comes next. Wednesday's child is full of woe..."
With a violent jerk, Saguna gasped and found himself sitting exactly where he had been, still beneath the banyan tree. His clothes were dry, his position unchanged. The only evidence of his experience was his racing heart and the cold sweat that drenched his skin.
He glanced up at the branches above, but saw nothing unusual—just leaves gently stirring in the afternoon breeze. Had it been a vision? A hallucination brought on by the stress of the day? Or something more?
Before he could process what had happened, a shadow fell across them. An elderly woman stood at the garden entrance, her silver hair pulled back in a severe bun, her academy robes a deep purple that marked her as a senior faculty member. Her piercing eyes settled on each of them in turn, lingering a moment too long.
"Well, well," she said, her voice surprisingly melodious for such a stern countenance. "Three new students enjoying our Tranquility Garden. How... fortuitous."
She approached with measured steps, her gaze never leaving them. "I am Professor Nyala, Department of Historical Practices. Not a popular department, I'm afraid—most students prefer more... practical studies." Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "But history has a way of becoming suddenly relevant, doesn't it?"
"It's an honor to meet you, Professor," Radji said, bowing slightly. "We're completing the first-day orientation assignment."
"Yes, I'm aware," she replied. "Tell me, did you visit the Veil Archives yet?"
The three exchanged glances.
"We did," Osa answered cautiously.
"And did you find anything of particular interest there?" Her question seemed casual, but her intense gaze suggested otherwise.
"Just old documents about the academy's founding," Saguna said, reluctant to mention the whispers or the burning sensation.
Professor Nyala's eyes narrowed slightly. "Indeed." She studied them for a moment longer before continuing. "Should any of you find yourselves... curious about the academy's deeper histories, my office door is always open. The Department of Historical Practices welcomes inquisitive minds." She turned to leave, then paused. "Especially on Wednesdays."
The three watched her depart in silence.
"Well, that wasn't creepy at all," Osa muttered once she was out of earshot.
"Her department studies ancient traditions," Radji mused. "Including, I presume, the spirit arts mentioned in that document."