The grand doors of the Dominion Archives creaked open with a sound that resembled a rusty giant yawning after centuries of silence. Dust swirled in the sunlight that pierced through the stained-glass windows, painting fragmented rainbows on the polished marble floor. Kairo stepped in cautiously, his boots tapping against the quiet. Behind him, Samhael trailed with a long sigh, arms folded.
"This place smells like forgotten socks," she muttered.
"Or forgotten secrets," Kairo replied.
"Both need airing out."
The archive was supposedly one of the few places in the world where information about Soul Echoes and Oracle Sentences could be found—if one could navigate the chaos of its layout and the quirks of its keeper.
"Why is it so quiet?" Samhael asked, her voice echoing eerily through the massive chamber.
"It's a library. That's how it works," Kairo said.
At that moment, a voice boomed from behind a tall stack of books.
"QUIET IN THE LIBRARY!"
Both of them jumped.
Out from between the shelves emerged a man in a purple velvet robe, half of his beard braided with parchment strips. His eyes, hidden behind round spectacles, sparkled with irritation and excitement. He had a nameplate on his robe: "Archivist Yerren. Loud since 882."
"You literally shouted," Samhael said flatly.
"I am the only one allowed to shout here!" Yerren proclaimed proudly.
Kairo gave him a polite nod. "We're looking for records on Oracle Sentences. Possibly connected to soul phenomena."
"Ha! Finally! Someone who knows how to ask for forbidden knowledge properly," Yerren said, stroking his beard until a bookmark fell out.
The librarian leaned forward and whispered (loudly), "Come. I will show you the Shelf of Madness."
"Is that a metaphor or just poor naming?" Kairo asked.
"Both."
They followed Yerren past towers of scrolls and tomes tied in ribbons, down into a basement level that smelled like dried ink and mystery. The air grew cooler, and the lights dimmed, but the floor glowed faintly with ancient sigils—protection runes from a time when books could bite back.
"Here," Yerren said, pointing to a specific aisle. "Section 13-B. Look for the red-bound volume titled Echoes of the Awakened. Don't touch the blue ones."
"Why?" Samhael asked.
"They bite."
Kairo didn't ask for clarification.
As he scanned the shelves, his eyes landed on the red-bound tome. Echoes of the Awakened. Its surface pulsed gently, as if it recognized him. He reached out, and the moment his fingers touched it, a jolt of energy surged up his arm.
He didn't hear Yerren or Samhael anymore. Instead, a voice echoed in his mind.
> "He who speaks in silence shall awaken the world. But beware—those who listen may change before they understand."
He blinked. The voice faded, and the book fell open in his hands.
"Kairo?" Samhael's voice cut through the silence. "You okay?"
"Yeah… yeah. It just spoke to me."
Samhael looked around. "Not the weirdest thing we've seen this week."
He nodded and began reading aloud, flipping through pages that described legends of "World Speakers"—individuals capable of speaking truths that warped reality. Some could revive the dead with a phrase, others could destroy entire cities by uttering their secret names.
And yet, none had ever survived long. Most either went mad or were hunted down.
One passage caught his attention:
> When the Echoes crack, and silence gives voice to despair, a World Speaker will emerge—one not chosen by fate, but by necessity. He will not hear the world; the world will hear him.
Chills ran down Kairo's spine.
"I think I know what I am," he whispered.
Samhael leaned over. "You're definitely not normal, that's for sure."
"No, I mean it—this is what's happening to me. The Oracle Sentence, the way the seals cracked… it's all pointing to this. I'm a World Speaker."
She didn't say anything for a long time.
Then she raised a hand. "Okay, but let's not go full megalomaniac yet. Last time someone claimed to be the Chosen One, we had to fight a levitating goat priest."
"True."
Yerren returned with a cup of something that smelled like vinegar tea. "Ah, you found it! You're either very gifted or very doomed."
"Probably both," Kairo muttered.
The rest of the evening was spent copying pages, dodging flying index cards, and listening to Yerren's overly dramatic storytelling of failed World Speakers. By the time they left the Dominion Archives, Kairo felt both enlightened and slightly terrified.
---
Back in their rented room at the Inn of Wandering Light, Kairo spread the copied notes across a desk while Samhael flipped through a magazine titled Magical Mishaps Monthly.
"Do you think being a World Speaker means I'll go mad?" he asked, half-joking.
She didn't look up. "We've been traveling together for weeks. That ship sailed ages ago."
Kairo chuckled. "Thanks for the support."
"Anytime."
A knock came at the door. They both looked up.
When Kairo opened it, a courier stood with a sealed scroll.
"For Kairo," the man said. "No return name."
He took it cautiously, broke the seal, and unrolled the parchment.
> If you value your voice, come to the Hollow Spire at dusk. Bring the girl. Don't bring the noise.
Samhael peered over his shoulder. "Did they just threaten your voice and insult me?"
"Seems like it."
"Sounds fun. Let's go."
---
The Hollow Spire was a crumbling tower just outside the city. Surrounded by whispering trees and bathed in purple twilight, it looked like something out of a nightmare painted by a forgetful artist.
Kairo and Samhael approached carefully.
Inside, a hooded figure awaited them in the center of a circular platform, surrounded by floating orbs of light.
"You came," the figure said. His voice was low, resonating with strange power. "Good. I've been watching your awakening."
"Who are you?" Kairo asked.
"I go by many names," the figure replied. "But you may call me Verien. I am… was… a World Speaker."
Kairo's breath caught.
"But you're still alive?"
"Barely," Verien replied. "My voice is gone. I used it too freely. Words hold power, but power exacts a toll."
He pulled back his hood. His face was aged far beyond his years, eyes pale and distant. Scars lined his neck.
"I can teach you," he said. "But only if you're willing to risk losing everything."
Kairo looked at Samhael.
She gave him a half-smile. "Just don't start glowing and chanting in your sleep."
"I'll try."
He turned back to Verien. "I'm willing."
"Good," Verien whispered. "Then let us begin with the First Principle: Speak only when silence resists."
Samhael leaned toward Kairo and whispered, "And never trust a guy who talks in riddles and lives in a ruin."
Kairo smiled. For the first time, the path ahead didn't seem so lonely.