The training hall existed in duality—a physical manifestation of the cosmic balance Kairus sought to teach.
To the left, the Chamber of Revelation blazed with otherworldly luminescence. Arcane machinery of impossible geometry hovered just above the floor showing how it is like in every timelines, their spinning rings emitting a low, harmonic hum that vibrated in Liam's teeth. Mists of condensed knowledge swirled in glass-like orbs, each one pulsing with the heartbeat of a different universe. The air smelled of ozone and something older—burnt stardust, perhaps, or the iron-tang of time itself.
To the right, the Chamber of Reprieve lay in eternal twilight. Here, the walls drank in light rather than reflected it, their surfaces textured like volcanic glass. A shallow pool of black mirror like liquid dominated the center, its surface, so still it might have been solid—until a single drop fell from nowhere, sending ripples across the black liquidwhich in turn showed no reflection. The silence here was thick, a balm against the screaming truths of its twin.
here liam stood at the threshold between them, his human frailty laid bare. His hands shook. His mouth was dry. Every instinct screamed at him to retreat into the twilight's embrace, where his mind might find shelter from the storm to come.
Kairus holographic image materialized before him, his form flickering between corporeal and ephemeral. "You straddle the boundary," he intoned, his voice layered with echoes of other voices, other times. "One side to shatter you, the other to piece you back together. This is the way of the Archivists."
Liam opened his mouth to protest, but Kairus raised a hand. The Chamber of Revelation flared to life, its black-orbs brightening like awakened stars.
"Observe."
The first vision struck with the force of a physical blow:
A language where words were not spoken but tasted—where consonants crunched like insects between teeth and vowels dripped syrup-slow down the chin. Liam gagged, his tongue suddenly heavy with flavors that had no name in any human lexicon.
He stumbled back, but the second vision came faster:
A mathematical proof that unfolded like origami in his mind, each equation birthing screaming faces that dissolved into yet more equations. The numbers bled, the symbols wept, and Liam's nose began to drip crimson onto the pristine floor.
"Stop—" he choked out, but Kairus only watched as the third vision took hold:
A historical event that was simultaneously past, present, and future—a battle being fought, already lost, and yet to begin. The paradox tore at Liam's synapses like razor wire. He collapsed to his knees, a scream trapped in his throat.
In the Chamber of Reprieve, the obsidian pool rippled in sympathy.
Kairus loomed over him, his voice mercifully soft now. "This is but the first lesson. The knowledge you must guard does not obey the laws of linear time or three-dimensional space. It will break you, again and again."
Liam panted, his vision swimming. The twilight chamber beckoned, its silence promising respite.
"But," Kairus continued, helping him to his feet, "just as the Reprieve exists to heal you, so too will you learn to heal yourself. This is the burden and the gift of the Archivist."
As Liam staggered toward the soothing darkness, one terrible truth settled in his marrow:
The Chamber of Revelation had only shown him the shallowest of waters.
The abyss awaited.