The truth.

It was never singular, always plural. Only by comparing all the truths together could one come close to a semblance of certainty... But the closer it seemed to be within reach, the more it slipped away, like a mirage that can never be attained. Those who claimed otherwise were either fools or zealots.

With this mindset, Suka began to pore over the tomes and scrolls of the Sanctum, having left the Kadigir to follow her intuition beyond its walls. Since the announcement of the Kraken's fall, the Yzmir Initiate had been troubled by a strange feeling. Of course, she had reviewed the official reports, thoroughly read how Kojo had pulverized the Leviathan with a devastating strike... But even though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, something about the reported facts didn’t sit right. It was as if the truth gathered from the testimonies had a strange aftertaste of falsehood.

Padding softly, a cleric of the Ordis approaches her, carrying another book under her arm.

‘As requested, Compendium IX of Hyperborean Folklore, by Master Archivist Suure-Jaani’, she says, placing the thick volume on the table, which is already covered with notes, books, and manuscripts.

‘Thank you’, Suka replies, not lifting her eyes from her book.

‘You should increase the intensity of your Kelon lamp, miss. It is night already.’

Suka blinks and looks up. Indeed, beyond the window, the sun had set, leaving only a thin red line on the horizon. How many hours had she spent here already?

‘Would you like some help with your research?’

The young woman sizes up the cleric, a bit bewildered by this sudden offer of assistance. The cleric seems no older than she is and, like her, wears large glasses. A sign of a fellow bookworm to be sure.

‘I'm looking for references on the Kraken’, she finally reveals.

‘Have you reviewed the Sherdino Annals, titled ‘Oorun’s Rebuff’?’

‘I've read it thoroughly.’

‘Yet everything that needs to be known is in those pages…’

‘No, not what the Kraken truly is.’

The cleric furrows her brow, visibly taken aback.

‘I don't understand. A Leviathan, without a doubt.’

‘But who named this monster 'Kraken'?’

‘I'm not sure that such information is recorded anywhere.’

Suka lets out a loud sigh.

‘Yet it was the taxonomist Mamello who named Cingula, in reference to a species of centipede. It was Chiziwa who named Kaibara to highlight the beauty of its appearances, when it would take flight to swim through the clouds... This kind of information is supposed to exist.’

Puzzled, the cleric stares out the window, her eyes lost in thought, seemingly deep in contemplation.

‘When Nuur Tamrat took down Annoba’, Suka continues, ‘it took an army of butchers to dismember its carcass and clear the bay. When Cadracal fell, the Bravos stood atop its remains to commemorate the moment... Kojo supposedly vaporized the Kraken? Without leaving a single bone, no shred of flesh?’

‘When you put it that way…’

Suka stretches and clasps her hands behind her neck, yawning.

‘You see why I'm a bit perplexed, don't you?’

The cleric shakes her head. ‘There could be rational explanations. The laziness of a chronicler or a cataloging error might be to blame.’

‘For a scourge like the Kraken, which caused the loss of an entire Province? I’m leaning more towards intentional manipulation.’

The cleric’s eyes widen, and her cheeks flush. ‘Surely you're not suggesting that our archives have been deliberately purged or tampered? I can assure you that the Sanctum Archivists…’

Suka raises her hands, palms open, in a gesture meant to calm the situation.

‘Come come, I’m not accusing anyone. Still, you must admit these gaps are quite odd.’

The cleric seems upset. Maybe Suka had gone too far after all. A few hours earlier, the thought that she might be flirting with her had crossed her mind. But with those unpleasant remarks, she might have ruined any chance of that going any further.

‘My name is Suka, Initiate of the Third Circle of Horomancy. Pleased to meet you.’

The cleric's expression suddenly softens. ‘And I’m Yanna, just a simple cleric of the Sanctum. But you already knew that.’

‘Well, Yanna, I want to reassure you of one thing. I’m not sounding the alarm just to stir the pot. I’m not here to point fingers or lay blame, but to shed full light on these events.’

‘Then you’ll need a drink to make it through until dawn.’

Suka raises her eyebrows at Yanna’s conspiratorial smile. It was somewhat clear that this subtle bit of humor had hit the mark.

‘A coffee, perhaps?’

Now it was Suka’s turn to grin.

‘With pleasure.’

Beside her, Yanna removes her glasses and rubs her eyes. Several times, they had called upon Ariadne to have the Eidolon guide them toward a specific book or volume, or anything remotely related to the Kraken. But no matter how many threads they followed, what they found never lived up to their expectations.

‘You should go get some rest. I’m sorry for keeping you up so late.’

The young woman smiles again, even though her eyes look sleepy.

‘I enjoy the company of books. I don't mind spending a few more hours with them.’

Was she really referring to the books? Suka looks at her, both glad to have company and curious about the cleric's motivations. Of course, she could use her Irises to magically probe into her, but starting a potential romance with suspicion didn't seem like a good idea.

Who would make the first move? At dawn, Suka certainly would if the cleric didn’t show enough initiative. There was a slight tension in the air, a certain excitement that she didn't entirely dislike. It was subtle, of course. A hand brushing another's supposedly by accident, a glance held just a bit longer than usual, or a turn of phrase laced with double meaning... Suka hadn’t expected that these research efforts would be so... enticing.

The Mage closes the book she had been skimming, in vain. She stands up and grabs a new thread left by Ariadne. Holding it in one hand, she starts to follow it, with Yanna following close behind.

‘How long have you been working here?’

‘Three years. Before that, I served as a scribe in the Anthill.’

Suka catches sight of the diamond tattoo on the cleric's shoulder.

‘What’s it like being linked to the Gestalt?’

They move along the shelves, climbing a few flights of stairs.

‘You mean, do you want to know if it feels invasive?’

The Initiate continues to follow Ariadne's thread as it veers right, then immediately left. Suka shrugs.

‘I’m not sure I'd like being connected to others in that way.’

‘It's convenient to be able to communicate with others like that, even over long distances. You can instantly receive directives from the Asterion or bounce ideas off your peers when you need to. And besides, I can temporarily cut off the link whenever I want a little privacy.’

Suka suddenly stops and turns to face Yanna. She studies her in the pale glow of a kelonic candelabra.

‘Yes?’

‘Thank you so much for helping me. I have to say, the night has been much more pleasant than I expected. And that’s mostly because of you.’

Yanna looks back at her.

‘I would hate to fail to meet the expectations of one of our guests…’

As she speaks, she steps closer to Suka. Their faces are dangerously close, so close that their breaths mingle. Then, Yanna reaches her hand behind the Mage's head. Suka's heart begins to race. Yes, this night is turning out to be far more enjoyable than she'd anticipated.

Yanna grabs a book from the shelf and pulls it out. She steps back and hands the grimoire to a somewhat crestfallen Suka. The Mage examines the heavy bound volume. Its cover is not very worn, though it doesn't seem brand new either. The title, slightly faded, is embossed in gold letters: ‘Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea’.

‘Jules Verne... Do you know of him?’

‘Yes. ‘Michael Strogoff’, ‘Around the World in Eighty Days’... interesting reads for learning more about the World Before.’

Suka opens the book and begins flipping through it, stopping at the pages marked by Ariadne’s thread. She scans the pages quickly, then her eyes suddenly widen.

‘There, 'Krakens'! It's written in black and white. And here, 'Squids, of the class Cephalopoda,' it matches its appearance…’

Yanna raises an eyebrow.

‘You think someone might have referenced this book when naming the Kraken?’

Suka's expression darkens. ‘Or that it wasn’t a Leviathan, as everyone thought.’

Yanna stares at her, a clear look of confusion in her eyes.

‘Maybe it was an Eidolon all along.’

Her footsteps reverberate within the Magisterium. She pays no attention to the shimmering constellations drifting across the vaulted ceiling of the building, nor to the small jellyfish lazily floating in the air. Around her, Initiates and Disciples go about their activities. But while the atmosphere is serene, her mind is not—it is circling endlessly around one haunting question: who could have manifested the Kraken?

She hadn’t asked Yanna out in the end. Her mood had definitely shifted by the time she took the first barge to the Sekent heights. She pushes that thought away. There will always be time to ask her another day, once everything is resolved.

The echo of her steps vibrates through the chambers of the main temple, a steady rhythm that resounds into the vastness of the cosmos. She leaps over a narrow stream trickling through a channel and slips through a pointed alcove to save a few minutes on her route. Finally, after a long journey, she finds herself before the Magister’s door. She raises her fist to knock.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’

She stops mid-motion and turns to face the voice that has addressed her. A man stands there, looking quite unremarkable, with a composed yet knowing smile on his face. His eyes twinkle with amusement, and his lips curve into a polite grin. Suka activates her Irises to scrutinize him with her third eye. Her eyes take on a strange hue, and her pupils shift to display geometric patterns. Opening her sight to the magical dimension of the universe, she examines the stranger. She can see beneath his physical form the intertwining Aether and Quintessence, the pulsing Mana anchoring him to the world. He’s an Eidolon, not a mortal.

‘You are…’

‘Wanjiru. And it is a real pleasure to meet you, Initiate Suka of the Third Circle of Horomancy.’

Suka is left momentarily speechless. Wanjiru was a hero of the Severance War and the founder of the Qorgan, the Lodge responsible for Asgartha's magical security. He had left his mark on history, thus attaining the status of Eidolon.

‘It’s an honor, Eidolon.’

Wanjiru simply smiles. ‘Shall we walk a bit? I could use a little stroll.’

She follows in his footsteps as he turns away, intrigued by his sudden appearance. For a few minutes, they walk together through the labyrinthine corridors of the Yzmir ziggurat. Celestial phenomena blossom and fade on the walls, galaxies twirl within the dark stone. Somewhere, a pulsar casts an eerie glow over the room they’re in.

‘I admire your curiosity, Initiate.’

Suka swallows, clearly uneasy with how things are unfolding.

‘It’s about what I discovered, I assume.’

‘Indeed’, confirms the Eidolon who was once a Mage. ‘And you are correct about the Kraken.’

‘Then the world must know’, she insists.

‘No. Discretion is crucial here. There are forces conspiring against us, and we must root them out without revealing the cards we hold.’

‘But—’

The Eidolon places a hand on the young Initiate's shoulder. ‘I understand your frustration. But know that you will have ample opportunity to learn more once you take your place in my administration.’

Suka's eyes widen.

‘You're offering me a position within the Qorgan?’

‘I too was merely a Horomancer when I founded the Lodge. And I always need people with sharp minds and keen eyes…’

From behind an obsidian column, Yanna steps forward, clasping her hands behind her back. Suka stares at her in shock. ‘Like Yanna here.’

Shock turns to a simmering anger, then to a resigned acceptance. ‘So you knew, all along.’

Wanjiru sighs, rubbing the palm of his hand. ‘I simply wanted to see how far you would go. And you did not disappoint me.’

Out of the corner of her eye, Suka studies Yanna’s expression, but the cleric’s face remains unreadable. Wanjiru, of course, notices.

‘Know that the Qorgan, although it falls under the Yzmir's jurisdiction, has resources in each of the six Factions. And don't be upset with Yanna. I was the one who ordered her to assist you.’

‘To spy on me, you mean’, Suka says with a wry smile, shaking her head.

‘There's some truth to that, yes.’

Suka exhales deeply. ‘Is that why you stopped me from warning the Magister? You believe there are enemies among us, working against our interests?’

‘It’s a certainty. A sad certainty... So, what do you say, Initiate?’

Suka looks at him, her jaw clenched. This is clearly the opportunity of a lifetime presenting itself to her. The circumstances are perhaps frustrating to her ego, but in the end, there’s no point in getting upset over it.

She sighs.

‘I accept’, she finally says.

Wanjiru's face lits up with a satisfied smile. ‘Good. That settles it then. Welcome to the Qorgan, Initiate. Suka, if you would kindly create a portal to escort Yanna back? I would be most obliged. And by the way, I believe she had a question to ask you before all this came to unfold.’

Wanjiru suddenly dissipates into ethereal wisps, as if he had never been there at all. Around her, galaxies merge and swirl into a whirlpool of stars. When Suka turns toward the cleric, she is surprised to see that Yanna’s cheeks are tinged with a slight blush...

Aside from certain scholars and librarians, few people truly realize the full extent of what was lost during the Confluence. Of course, there were the material possessions left behind by the Tumult Nomads during their frantic escape, as well as the technical skills and academic knowledge that the survivors failed to pass on to their descendants. But in the long run, what proved to be the most detrimental wasn't the loss of scientific or technical knowledge, but rather the loss of humanity's stories. By embracing their life of wandering, the Nomads left entire shelves of books, annals, and tales behind, and this cultural impoverishment was keenly felt when humanity gained the ability of Alteration. In the end, it was forgetfulness that turned out to be their worst enemy. To manifest one's imagination effectively, it must be properly nourished. Fortunately, many stories continued to circulate orally, whether around the campfire or when parents told stories to their children at bedtime. These tales spoke, of course, of the World Before, of those cities lost in the cataclysm or the wonders that humanity once managed to create, but also of fiction, whether in the form of fairy tales, legends, myths, or literary stories. It was thanks to this that the first Alterers were able to summon Eidolons, calling on them to aid in reality. All Factions know that by exploring the Terra Incognita, they might discover new names to add to their registers, new Eidolons to summon when the need arises. For the Rediscovery Endeavor is not only about exploring the world but also about reclaiming forgotten cultures and lost stories. By unearthing these, the Asgarthan society will emerge stronger.