45: Melistia Point, Part VIII

Samira and co. arrive at the Archives, where Secar leaves to look for antiquities, and Torren follows her back to the deep records, where they meet someone who may aid in her search.

Last we left off…

Samira and Torren share a moment of quiet companionship as they return to the Siren’s Respite, embracing after a night of conflict with assailants out in the streets of Melistia Point.

Waking to find the room empty, Samira cleans herself up and welcomes the quiet, cool air of the sea across her body as she makes her way down to breakfast.

There, she, Torren, and Secar discuss their next steps as to what they might be looking for at the Archives, feasting a small meal together before they head out for the day.

The gate is open when we return to the facade of the Archives. There is no guard, nor line of people. In fact, when the three of us walk into the antechamber it’s positively empty except for the support beams and small marble busts that are adorned in the alcoves.

Natural rays shine down from the skylight above, drawing my attention down beneath my feet. Each step carries me along a resin-covered mosaic of Tredea — the pastels and inks laid firm with the scuff of years’ worth of treaded travels over it.

“Beautiful,” Secar remarks, taking in the sight as he wanders forward.

I nod my head — I can’t very well disagree. The history here isn’t something stale. Whatever space I imaged to be covering row upon row of dusty tomes is, in reality, filled with room to breathe. It is a space to get lost in, to be slow in. With air devoid of cold or warmth it is a positively neutral place of solace — and something far beyond what I expected with the humble exterior, spired as it is.

Torren’s steps move past me. He, too, is lost in the gravitas of the environment.

There is no, “Where do we go?” that escapes my lips, only the want to explore and find that out for myself.

Alas, Secar seems to have found the directory, given the way he gestures to both of us.

“Looks like the ‘Reserves’ are in the back, down that corridor,” he nods in the direction of an archway that stretches beyond down underneath a marble double staircase at the far side of the chamber.

“Seems like your museums are on the upper levels,” Torren reads off to him.

“So it would seem,” the old man huffs. “Well, that’s where I’ll be headed then. I trust you two can figure out whatever you need to?”

“I think we will be okay,” I say.