Scripts from the Great Library of Nycene:
"The Elvish Wars":
At some point during the peak of the Ancients' global domination, a new race of intelligent beings made themselves known. These beings, termed "elves" in the Ancient script are of unknown origins. It is believed that they came in relative peace, wishing only to live with the Ancients and contribute to their society.
A fair number of the humans inhabiting the world welcomed the elves, but the majority did not and declared war on who they perceived to be invaders. What followed was a long and bloody conflict that left many elves, and even more humans dead which will be detailed in the pages that follow. It marked the end of the era of the Ancients, their population dwindled to a fraction of what it had been...
Chapter 3 - The Source
"How many stories up are we?" I asked Celeste, who seemed to be much more adept at exploring the large, tall building than I was. She leapt and bound across obstacles and sheer, dangerous ledges while I carefully maneuvered myself and my treasure pack along with all the grace of a mule.
The wood nymph paused and looked down a large hole she was standing next to, "Maybe twenty? A little over halfway to the top."
"Something tells me we have to go all the way to the top," I mused. I did not like high places, which made scaling this tower a great chore. But no one ever said treasure hunting was supposed to be easy.
"What a weird word," Celeste was saying, picking her way to the very dubious remains of an ancient staircase, "'stories'"
I shrugged, following her, "It's an Ancient word. One of the many that remained in our dialect. Even if we don't know their origins, we know what they mean at least," I grinned childishly, "Like 'fuck' and 'cunt'."
"You do certainly know what those mean," Celeste returned, walking up the stairs like they were still gloriously intact, "Now stop talking and start walking."
"You could slow down, you know," I offered, slowly making my own way up the stairs, "We humans aren't as agile as elves."
We made our way along, Celeste swiftly, me more slowly, and by noon, we had reached the twenty fifth story.
"Only five from the top," Celeste announced, peering up toward the blue sky and sunlight above us, "And no signs of treasure."
"It's here," I panted, sitting down on a ledge and pulling a light lunch of bread and hard cheese out of my treasure pack, "One of my runes was activated. It only is when I'm near sources of magic. There's treasure. And it's close."
Celeste sat next to me and took the food I offered. "How does one come up with such clever runes?"
"Practice," I responded, taking a bite of cheese, "Lots and lots of practice. And bending a few rules."
"Where did you first learn magic?" she asked.
I didn't like talking about my past. It was where it belonged, behind me. But Celeste was not trying to pry, she was only curious. And for some reason I found talking to her comfortable. "From a state mage believe it or not," I answered, "He's been dead for some time now. Executed."
"I'm sorry," Celeste sounded genuine.
I shrugged, "He was too bold. Broke the rules right out in the open where his fellow state mages could easily get to him. He was the one who taught me about tattooing runes, and he paid the price."
"What was his name?"
I froze mid-chew on a piece of bread. "That will have to remain a mystery for now, nymph," I said, standing and brushing crumbs off my tunic and breeches, "Come on. I want to reach the top soon."
Celeste stood and said nothing about my refusal to name my master. To do so would have been a mistake, and I knew it. Anyone who knew anything about mages knew the name of my master and I did not want Celeste to associate me with him. Not yet at least.
"It's in here," I said when we reached the top floor half an hour later. The structure was more intact this far up, free from the negative effects of the forest below and I stood before a wooden door, ornate in design but slowly rotting away from exposure to wind and rain.
"Are you sure?" Celeste asked, placing a hand on my shoulder and peering curiously at the door.
I nodded, "Positive." My treasure seeking rune burned hot and steady and I murmured a word to deactivate it.
"Then let's go," Celeste offered and stepped forward, grabbing the seam of the door and pulling it toward us.
Inside the room was pitch black, which was odd considering how well lit the rest of the building had been. What was even more curious was the inside of the door, which now faced us, having been swung wide open.
"It's...," Celeste gasped, approaching it slowly.
"It is," I marveled.
The wood was untarnished. Glossy and new, as if it had not stood abandoned for hundreds of years. The looping and whirling designs carved into it's surface were clear and complex. Untouched.
"Come on," I said, and stepped toward the room's opening, my heart beating hard in my chest. None of my wards were warning me of danger, but my stomach still clenched nervously as I pressed forward.
Celeste filed in behind me and when I murmured the casting for my orb of light, we both audibly sucked air in complete awe when the view of the room was illuminated.
"Just like the door," Celeste commented.
I was silent.
We were in a completely untouched room. Red fabric covered the floor in a thick layer and the incredibly realistic paintings that the Ancients were known for covered the walls, looking brand new in their metal frames. There were no windows, and at one end of the space was a large desk, made of the same dark wood as the door, shiny and new. And on this desk, centered among the scattering of small, unknown tools and miraculously fresh pieces of paper was a glass orb, supported by an ornate, brass pedestal.
The orb itself was about the size of my head, the pedestal of a similar diameter. I stepped across the room, and saw within its depths a swirling, black smoke. Forks of lighting flashed and danced along the smoke's surface as it broiled within it's glass prison.
"Definitely magic," I observed.
"There's writing on the pedestal," Celeste pointed out and I followed her pointing finger, "It's elvish. At least part of it."
"The other part is Ancient script," I said, "I can translate if you can do the elvish."
Celeste nodded and spoke, "It says, 'For our allies and friends, the people of Roc Hester we offer a symbol of our trust and admiration'"
"Not Hester Roc?" I asked.
"I suppose it probably should be," Celeste nodded, "But here the words are reversed and combined."
"Hmm," I said and read the Ancient script a few times before settling on a rough translation. "The script says, 'The Source, to be used to further better the people of Roc Hester through the gift of elvish magic'"
"What's 'The Source'?" Celeste asked and I shrugged.
"I have no idea," I admitted, "But whatever it is, it's much older than the Magic Wars, the Ancient script was out of use long before then in favor of scripting runes. Judging by the context of the text I'm guessing it dates back to the middle of the Elvish Wars. Apparently the people in this particular city sided with the elves."
"That's amazing," Celeste breathed and I agreed. Most treasure, if not all treasure, was left behind by human mages during the Magic Wars. No artifacts that I knew of came from the Elvish Wars, they were simply too old. If this orb was indeed that old, then I had just stumbled across the greatest find of my career.
"Help me get it into my pack," I said, "I don't want to touch it."
Celeste gave me a questioning look, and I held up my right arm, "I don't know what it does which means I don't know how it will react to my runes. It could kill me. I've seen artifacts burn incautious mages to a pile of ashes."
She nodded in understanding and reached forward, grabbing the orb and wincing as she did so. Nothing happened. The smoke inside continued to broil, lighting continued to dance. She lifted it easily and placed it inside my open pack. I shut the flap and pulled the string tight.
"That was less exciting than I expected," Celeste giggled and I smiled back.
"Sometimes treasure hunting is pretty routine stuff," I said and gave a hard look around the room, "This place is so bizarre though. How could it remain intact after so many years? I bet it looks the same as it did during the Elvish Wars."
"That orb must have something to do with it," Celeste said, "The Source. Maybe it preserved the room to keep itself safe. I've heard of artifacts being able to protect themselves."
"That's true," I nodded, "Come on. I want to get back to camp and examine this further."
We exited the room and I extinguished the orb of light. Soon after leaving, a resounding 'crack' sprang up behind us, causing us both to jump. I whirled around just in time to see the far wall of the room crumbling away, letting sunlight pour in and illuminating the rest of the space.
In the revealing light, the room was old and dilapidated, as it should have been. The desk was nothing but a pile of rotted wood and the fabric on the floor was eaten away in most spots, in others it was grey and thin. Large portions of the floor were gone.
The room had become like the rest of building. Old and forgotten. Just like that.
"You can't stop time," I mused, frowning, "Hold it back for a while maybe. But once the dam breaks, it all comes crashing in. Nothing's immortal."
"Poetic," Celeste smiled and turned her back on the room, "Come on. We've got a long trip down."
I nodded and steeled myself for the second half of harrowing journey through the Hester Roc tower.
"What exactly are you doing?" Celeste asked later that afternoon, after we had made it back to the first floor of the tower and our campsite.
I was seated on a low wall that had once been a partition, hunched over my right arm, murmuring complex castings. I had been like that for the past twenty minutes, and Celeste's nymphish curiosity was getting the best of her.
