Chapter 1: The Library

Throughout the night, Caylen battled with restlessness. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find a way to escape his predicament. His placement at the library seemed nonsensical - after all, he was a skilled Crafter, not a learned Scholar. From the moment he was born, Caylen was destined to follow in his family's footsteps: Scholars gave birth to Scholars, soldiers to soldiers, Crafters to Crafters, and so on. The path was set in stone. It was almost comical - his father was a butcher, his mother a blacksmith - neither of which would lead to a position at the library. Perhaps it was a mistake, or maybe it was only temporary. But the thought lingered - could it be that his skills as a Crafter were necessary for his assignment at the library?

As he approached his final year of school, Caylen spent his apprenticeship at his mother's blacksmith shop. While he adored his father, he detested the aspect of his father's business that involved slaughtering animals brought to the shop for processing. However, blacksmithing was a different story – he found great joy in it. This craft allowed him to interact with soldiers who frequented his mother's shop, seeking out the finest armor and weapons in all of Shylea. Caylen relished the opportunity to spar and showcase his mother's expertly crafted weapons. As the years passed, he honed his skills with various types of weaponry, a talent he feared would go to waste in the confines of a library. But what he loved most of all was listening to visiting warriors share their tales of daring adventures, particularly those centered around "The Great Hunt." As far back as he could remember, it had been his dream to serve as a blacksmith at one of the northern outposts after graduation. One thing was certain – he could never envision himself as a librarian. With an offer to work at the library, Caylen knew he would be confined to the city of his birth for the rest of his days.

Caylen couldn't shake off the unease that had been gnawing at him since he received the news about his assignment at the library. It was as if someone had taken control of his fate, steering him towards a path he had never considered. As he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, he couldn't help but wonder if this was just a temporary setback or a sign of something bigger. Could his skills as a Crafter truly be of use at the library? He had always been told that his family's profession predetermined his future. But as he thought about it, he realized that perhaps it was time to break away from tradition and forge his own path. After all, he had always been drawn to the art of blacksmithing, and his time at his mother's shop had only strengthened his passion for it. He couldn't imagine a life confined to the walls of the library, surrounded by musty books and dusty tomes. He longed for the thrill of adventure, the smell of burning metal, and the sound of clashing swords. The thought of being stuck in the city for the rest of his days was suffocating. He had always dreamed of serving at one of the northern outposts, far away from the stifling rules and expectations of his hometown. But now, with this unexpected turn of events, he feared that his dreams would never come true. His restlessness only grew as he pondered over his future, wondering if there was a way to break free from the chains of his predetermined destiny.

As his parents left for work, Caylen emerged from his quarters. This was the place he had known since birth, the only home he had ever known. It stood on an unremarkable street in the southern part of the city, just a humble abode he would call his own until the end of the Great Hunt. The city of Valia was centered around the towering Spirit Circle, a grand structure that dwarfed all others. Beyond it lay the royal palace where the ruling family resided, surrounded by the elite Aristocrats and Nobles. The next ring was occupied by government buildings and officials, followed by schools and residences. The outermost edge was home to the skilled Crafters and the occasional Rooks. Sprinkled throughout the city were shops run by Crafters, each unique in its own way. Caylen's home was just like the rest on his street, a modest, single-story, whitewashed dwelling built with practicality in mind. It may have been small, but it was his sanctuary.

Although he usually enjoyed a hearty breakfast, today, Caylen hastily ripped a chunk of bread from his mother's freshly baked loaves and rushed out the door. As he stepped outside, the refreshing scent of the sea barely registered in his mind. Valia, a bustling city perched on the majestic cliffs of Shylea's northwest corner, overlooked the Tolean Sea in a horseshoe shape. Unfortunately, from Caylen's house, the view was blocked by the bustling shops lining the cliffs' edge. Despite this, he always made a point to take in the invigorating aroma of the ocean. However, today he was too preoccupied to take notice.

Caylen traversed the brief cobblestone trail linking his front entrance to one of many bustling thoroughfares leading to the heart of the city. The library was situated just south of the Sacred Circle in the prestigious royal district. The sun had just risen, and only a handful of carriages and equestrian travelers dotted the streets. Out of habit, Caylen opted to stroll along the seaside pathway, which offered a serene view of the ocean. As he ascended the slightly elevated street, the library was momentarily obscured from his sight, but he knew it was just a short distance away. He had no particular urgency to reach his destination. However, as the library's rooftop came into view, Caylen noticed a small awning being assembled in a verdant patch of grass adjacent to his route. Perched at the apex of the incline, the spot offered a breathtaking vista of the vast ocean. Upon seeing the bright hues and the words "TOP OF THE HILL" emblazoned on the canopy, Caylen immediately recognized it as Abbie's family's structure.

Abbie was Caylen's best friend. Honestly, she was his only friend. Despite growing up just a few blocks away, they were from different backgrounds - she a Rook and he a Crafter. In Shylea's social hierarchy, Rooks were considered lowly, only slightly above witches. Although all witches were rooks, not all rooks were witches. Many Shyleans failed to distinguish between the two and looked down on them with equal disdain. Rooks made a living as entertainers, showcasing their talents as actors, puppeteers, artists, and musicians on street corners and other public spaces in exchange for donations. They did not see themselves as beggars but rather as service providers who deserved compensation for their work. However, despite their efforts, Rooks were still scorned by many Shyleans. Their unconventional fashion sense, disregard for social hierarchy, and unique language often left them labeled as Soots, a term they found highly offensive.

From Caylen's earliest memories, Abbie and her parents would put on a show atop the hill. It was a picturesque location, with a clear view of the sea through a gap in the shops. It was at this very spot that Caylen and Abbie first crossed paths. Before Caylen began schooling, his parents often brought him to watch the Top of the Hill performances. During intermissions, Caylen and Abbie would play together, quickly becoming inseparable. Despite their differences, they formed a strong bond. Caylen was reserved, tall, and lean with a hint of muscle. On the other hand, Abbie was loud and of average height and build, with jet-black hair always pulled back in a ponytail. While Caylen dressed traditionally in shades of grey and brown, Abbie stood out in her occasional red attire reserved for special occasions like Name Day. As for the rest of society, scholars donned yellow or blue, regents were always adorned in white, soldiers were green or brown, mystics were black or maroon, and students were teal. The Rooks, however, wore whatever they pleased, much to the frustration of the other professions. But Caylen never saw any of these differences as flaws in Abbie, though he did find her larger-than-life personality to be a bit overwhelming at times. As she grew older, she even joined the Top of the Hill performers, lending her beautiful voice to their acts.

Caylen sighed, uncertain if he was prepared for her presence today. Despite the early hour, he anticipated Abbie's excessive enthusiasm. His intuition proved correct as she caught sight of him and frantically beckoned him over to join her and her parents.

The people of Shylea shared a unique magical gift - the power of teleportation, known as "porting." This ability allowed them to instantly transport themselves to a location within throwing distance. As Caylen approached, he threw his hand forward, using his palm to guide himself towards Abbie. In an instant, he was by her side. Abbie greeted him with a kiss and a tight embrace, almost stealing his breath away.

Each time they met, she would embrace him with a kiss that always left him in agony. Despite never confessing it, Caylen adored Abatha with every fiber of his being. In Shylea, it was customary for individuals to only marry within their own social class, with the exception of soldiers. Caylen assumed this was due to the high mortality rate during the Great Hunt, but regardless of the cause, soldiers were the only ones permitted to depart from this tradition. He often yearned to be a soldier, knowing that Abbie would be the only love he would ever know, and each time she pressed her lips to his, the pain was a constant reminder of that fact.

As Abbie held him tight, Caylen turned to his mother. "Greetings, Ms. Brook," he struggled to say. "In the Rook community, when a couple gets married, they are expected to choose a new last name. Neither spouse takes the other's name, but instead, they opt for a nature-inspired surname. Names like River, Raven, and Snowflake are quite common. Abbie's parents followed this custom and picked the name Brook, which suited them perfectly. Ms. Brook's face was shining with pride as she exclaimed, "I can't believe you and Abbie were chosen for the library project. You must be thrilled!" Caylen simply smiled in response. Next, it was Abbie's father's turn. Caylen braced himself for the inevitable bear hug and was not disappointed. After Abbie released him, her father stepped in for a tight embrace. When he finally let go, he stood so close to Caylen that the young man could feel his breath on his face. "Hello, Mr. Brook," Caylen managed to say. "Would you like me to help with the setup?" "First of all, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Clay? And secondly, I wanted to tell you face-to-face," he said, his face mere inches from Caylen's. "Sandy and I are so proud of both of you." Tears began to well up in his eyes, and Caylen silently prayed that he wouldn't start crying. Abbie's father was known for his emotional outbursts, and Caylen didn't want to be caught in the middle of one. "I'm sure your parents are equally proud," Caylen managed to say. "Anyway, we were chatting with Abbs way too much this morning, so I should probably get back to setting up. And you and Abbs should get going, too." He pulled Caylen into another bone-crushing hug before returning to his work. As they made their way to the library, Abbie turned back to her parents and shouted, "Pae!" They replied in unison, "Ta Beesca," which Caylen understood to mean "I love you." It was clear that Abbie's father was crying, and Abbie noticed too. "Oh, that man," she said with a giggle. "We better hurry before he breaks down completely." She playfully pushed her hand forward, indicating that they should move on. Caylen followed suit.

Abbie's excitement grew as they descended the hill towards the library. "Can you believe it? We were chosen to work at the library!" she exclaimed, emphasizing the significance of their selection. "This makes us Scholars!" Her face was beaming with pride. Caylen couldn't help but wonder if she would have the same level of enthusiasm if they were chosen to participate in Wood-Frog Day sacrifices. Despite his efforts to match her excitement, he was unsure if he was successful. "I know, Abbs. Have you figured out why they chose us for this?" he asked. "I'm not sure," she replied. "But think about it. Neth, who comes from a family of government workers, was also picked to work at the library. And he was the top student in our class, right?" Caylen nodded in agreement, never considering these facts before. Three students from different backgrounds - why were they chosen for this job? As they continued walking, Caylen was lost in thought, not paying attention to Abbie's constant chatter. But he did catch her saying, "I don't care what we do, as long as we're together!" And in that regard, he couldn't agree more.

The library loomed large, standing as the second most expansive structure in the city and ranking among the top ten in the entire realm. Perched upon the library steps was Neth, a familiar face to Caylen from his father's bustling butcher shop, which Neth would frequent with his mother. However, their interactions were limited, and Caylen did not know him well. Neth was even more reserved than Caylen, preferring to keep to himself. As Abbie and Caylen approached, Neth's eyes lit up with a shy smile and he raised his hand in a half-hearted greeting. Caylen reciprocated with a wave while Abbie teleported over and enveloped Neth in a warm hug. But Neth kept his hands at his sides, averting his gaze and making only a grunt in response.

Caylen chose not to teleport, instead opting to walk the short distance before greeting Neth. "How have you been, Neth?" Abbie chimed in before Neth could answer. "What do you think our duties will entail at the library? Why do you think we were chosen? Did you have a desire to work for the library? As the top student in our class, you were given the top choice, in government, of course. Is this truly what you wanted?" Neth replied softly. "You two still haven't figured it out? Really?" Caylen's tendency to become angry quickly began to surface. "Can you explain what you mean by that?" he snapped. Neth, aware of Caylen's infamous temper, timidly responded, "It's more than just a librarian job; I'm certain of that. I have no idea what it entails, but it's definitely more than just being a librarian." Caylen and Abbie exchanged glances before turning towards the library.

The front steps were expansive enough to accommodate a crowd of 50 walking side by side. Six sets of colossal double doors stood at the entrance, evenly spaced apart. Abbie's excitement propelled her to practically sprint up the steps, with Caylen struggling to keep up as he jogged. It took Neth much longer to climb the 24 steps, and by the time he reached the top, he was gasping for air. In Shylea, all buildings and homes were left unlocked, including the library. Abbie eagerly grasped the sizable handle and effortlessly pulled open the massive door.

As the three new librarians stepped into the grand foyer, they were greeted by a gleaming floor of polished stone. The marble expanse was pristine white, interrupted only by sporadic specks of rich brown that matched the wood stain on the counters, trim, and bookshelves. The entire library was illuminated by tall windows that lined the top of the walls. A few strides into the room, they reached a massive wooden counter that spanned the width of the building. Four openings were strategically placed along the counter, creating passages to the book stacks that lay beyond. These openings not only divided the counter into four sections but also divided the library stacks into four distinct areas.

The library was deserted and likely to remain so until after the half-light. This was the official term used by politicians and intellectuals. However, Caylen preferred The Great Hunt, a term favored by craftsmen and warriors, which sounded much more active and thrilling. Behind the counter on the far left stood an elderly man, short, stout, and ashen. Caylen couldn't help but wonder if this man represented his potential future. Abbie promptly approached the counter and addressed the man, "Excuse me, sir." The man yawned without making eye contact and asked, "May I be of assistance?" "We are here to meet Elder Vaslin," Abbie stated. The man seemed oblivious to this information and, without much interest, called out loudly, "Changing shifts!" A middle-aged woman emerged from behind the bookshelves and began making her way towards the counter to take over. Caylen frowned, thinking that she could potentially be a future version of Abbie. "I've got it," she called out before reaching the counter. Without waiting for her, the pale guide motioned for the trio to follow him. Without looking back, he led them through a walkway directly behind the counter. It took them a while to reach the back of the library, emphasizing the immense size of the building. When they finally arrived at the back wall, Caylen noticed that there were four regular-sized doors. The escort chose the door on the far left and knocked. He opened the door without entering himself and gestured for Abbie, Caylen, and Neth to go inside. As they entered, the elderly man closed the door behind them.

The chamber, a mere fraction of the size of the main library, was also crafted with polished stone flooring. However, the speckles of paint were a stark black rather than the usual brown. There were no bookshelves or counters present; instead, orderly rows of ebony tables were spaced evenly throughout the space. On either side of the chamber, four doors lined the walls. At the focal point of the room sat Elder Vaslin, his arms extended as he held a weighty tome. The book was ancient, its binding made of leather and adorned with a glowing red nareallium crystal etched into the spine. The aged elder seemed to be reciting from the book, though his voice was too hushed to decipher.

Caylen was aware of the identity of the elder, a revered figure who served as a mystical advisor to both Regents and Scholars. Elders, held in high esteem among the Shyleans, were only second to the mystics in terms of power and respect. Vaslin, a tall and lanky man with an unkempt beard, was the guest speaker for several classes attended by the former students. His unkempt hair and disheveled maroon robes gave the impression that he had just woken up. However, this was nothing out of the ordinary for the cheerful and soft-spoken Elder. His likable nature was impossible to resist. As Vaslin looked up from his book and released it, the book simply vanished instead of falling onto the table. Slowly rising to his feet, he gestured for the three of them to take their seats, which had already been prepared for them.

As they settled into their seats, he took a brief moment to make eye contact with each of them. "I want to express my gratitude for your early attendance," he began. "I can imagine the library wasn't your first choice for an assignment." He flashed a smile and shifted in his chair. Before he could continue, Abbie interjected, "Sir, I am truly honored to be here. The library plays a crucial role, and I am grateful for the opportunity." The Elder erupted into a hearty laugh. "Well, that's wonderful to hear," he said, glancing at Caylen and Neth. "Is she always this enthusiastic?" Caylen beamed. "Sir, you have no idea." Vaslin lowered his gaze to his folded hands on the table, the atmosphere turning more serious.

"To claim that any of you will be employed at the library would not be accurate. Abbie and Caylen discreetly exchanged a glance, observing Neth's apparent satisfaction with his prediction. "This is merely a meeting place. Your true responsibilities will carry far more weight than anything that may occur here. I want each of you to comprehend that your participation is entirely voluntary. Keep in mind, to a certain extent, even if you initially agree, you are free to withdraw from the task." He paused, deliberately making eye contact with each person to emphasize the gravity of his words. Caylen's mind was racing, attempting to anticipate what might be requested of them. It was difficult to concentrate as the Elder continued. "Before we delve into the specifics of the task at hand, some context is necessary." Caylen was tempted to interrupt the elderly man and urge him to get to the point. However, Elders were renowned for their prolixity, even under pressure, and if his memory served correctly, Vaslin was among the worst.

"Why were the three of you chosen? Abbie and Caylen, I know each of you is aware the other has the gift of sight." Caylen was taken aback. Other than Abbie and his family, no one knew about his ability. But then again, Vaslin was an elder and a seer. He was right, of course. Caylen and Abbie had been aware of each other's abilities since they were young. The gift of sight allowed them to mentally travel and witness events. Caylen could mentally transport himself to any place he had physically been to. From the comfort of his chair, he could journey to school and experience everything in real time - sights, sounds, and scents. However, his ability did not allow him to travel through time or interact physically with the world. He could only observe and not influence. But what he could do was enter any place through the doors. He couldn't speak to anyone, but he could listen and see everything happening around him. This gift was exceedingly rare and was kept within the family. The thought of a classmate or colleague being able to spy on them at any time was unsettling. This ability had no practical use in Valia and was very much frowned upon. Vaslin then revealed that there were others like Abbie and Caylen-Shyleans with the gift of sight. Neth was not pleased with this revelation. "I share this with you now because there may come a time when this gift could save Shylea," Vaslin declared, and the room fell silent.

"Unquestionably, each of you can vividly recollect your extensive studies in history." "Ha, as if!" Abbie exclaimed. The elderly man grinned widely. "However, your academic training may have overlooked a great amount of knowledge. Even for a renowned history scholar, the recorded history of Dara only spans 5,000 summers. Beyond that, there are merely three certainties that we are known."

At some stage, the intensity of the sun increased. Numerous scholars of science have speculated on the possible causes, but one thing is certain: Dara is experiencing a rise in temperature. The second revelation about life on Dara more than 5,000 summers ago is that without the aid of magic, all living beings on the planet would have perished. The enigmatic creators of the projection towers scattered throughout our borders remain shrouded in mystery. These ancient structures were erected by a long-forgotten order, their true purpose and identities lost to the sands of time. Together, the towers emit a powerful force that forms an invisible dome, shielding us from the scorching heat of the sun while still allowing sunlight, clouds, and rain to pass through. The question that looms over us is why these towers were designed in a way that divides the three realms of Dara. We have also discovered that similar towers surround the neighboring lands of Haltscry to our south and Andon to our east. The third revelation about the world before our record-keeping is that the Divide is the sole source of nareallium, the crystal that fuels the tower projectors. It is believed that the separation of realms creates a no-man's-land where nareallium can be found. This vast, desolate stretch of land spans hundreds of miles between our territory and those of Haltscry and Andon. It is our belief that only the unfiltered heat of the sun can produce this rare and valuable crystal. Regardless, this is all we know before the commencement of recorded history.

"As you are all aware, every 24 years, a half-light phenomenon occurs when a fierce tempest emerges from the western sea and blankets our continent for 222 days. The origin of this storm, whether it is magic or nature, remains a mystery. However, one thing is certain - it lasts exactly 222 days. This strange occurrence is still shrouded in mystery, but we do know that it creates a cooling effect on the Divide, allowing us to enter the forbidden land and collect precious nareallium crystals. These crystals hold immense power, enough to sustain our projectors for approximately three decades. Without the half-light period, there would be no chance of obtaining these crystals, and our protective dome would fade away. This would result in the swift extinction of all life on Shylea. Once the nareallium crystals are unearthed, their 30-year lifespan begins, regardless of whether they are used or not. The task of gathering these crystals is a treacherous one, which is why it has always fallen upon the shoulders of soldiers. Regents, Crafters, or Scholars are ill-suited for such a mission. Soldiers dedicate their entire secondary training to this perilous hunt. And even then, only about 80 percent of them survive. After returning from the divide, they spend the rest of their days training the next generation or providing security across the realm." The Elder paused, taking a deep breath. "Now that we have revisited what you already knew, it is time to uncover what you have yet to learn."

Upon completing each hunt, surviving soldiers from all over Shylea are brought to this library for a thorough debriefing on their experiences. Each room is assigned an Elder and a scribe, who are typically Scholars, as pointed out by Vaslin while gesturing towards the doors lining the walls. The soldiers are tasked with creating detailed maps of their assigned exploration areas, which are constantly changing due to twenty-four years of extreme heat and strong winds. Encounters with Halts and Andoni are inevitable and are recounted with as much detail as possible, along with the assistance of a Crafter who measures and records the size and quality of each crystal, as no two are alike. The soldiers also report any logistical challenges they faced, such as finding food and water according to their training. The average loss rate over past hunts has been 20%, attributed to various factors such as exposure, accidents, and encounters with other factions and creatures. Caylen could only imagine what these creatures could be, as he always believed the Divide to be too inhospitable for any form of life. However, he refrained from interrupting the Elder's explanation. Gathering such detailed information is crucial in minimizing future loss of life and maximizing the collection of nareallium. But this task is not an easy one, as the returning soldiers are often exhausted and can barely recall what happened during their months-long journey. It is a task that they are only called upon to endure once in their lifetime, as by the time the next half-light arrives, they are too old to embark on another hunt. The results of the debriefing and observations are recorded in the hundreds of books lining the shelves at the back of the room, which Caylen had noticed earlier. However, what the Elder is about to reveal must be kept strictly confidential. His expression changes from that of a kind professor to a commanding figure as he emphasizes the importance of secrecy. The three young soldiers nod in agreement, but the Elder is not satisfied and asks again, pausing after each word until they respond verbally with a resounding "yes."

With a smile, Elder Vaslin's expression brightened once again. "Excellent. In recent cycles, our soldiers have returned with fewer and smaller crystals. Although these crystals currently suffice to power our dome projectors, their useful lifetime has dwindled. We have always been taught that crystals last 32 years, but the reality is closer to 26. In the last two hunts, we have seen crystals that only powered the projectors for 28 and 26 years, respectively. The cause of this decline is unknown, despite much speculation. However, we have uncovered two undeniable facts. Firstly, crystals from the northern regions of the Divide are larger and more potent than those from the south. The closer our soldiers ventured towards the Fiernan wasteland, the greater the crystalline reward. Secondly, these crystals seem to be more concentrated along the border of the forbidden land. Whenever one was found, there were often more nearby. The reason for this is still a mystery. What we do know is that the northern barrens hold a higher concentration of useful crystals, leading to increased competition between us, the Halts, and Adonai for these limited resources. This brings us to our second realization - we need more information. To address the first issue, we plan to expand the number of teams scouring the Northern Barrens."

In Shylea, one's role as a soldier, crafter, or scholar is not a choice but rather predetermined by birth. The role of one's parents holds great influence in this society. During the last half-light, 22 teams were actively participating in the hunt, each consisting of four members: a leader, navigator/medic, ward, and defender. However, due to the heightened danger of encounters, we have decided to increase the team size to five members, with an additional defender. As a result, the number of teams has decreased from 160 to 128. This means that even with a focus on the northern barrens, each team will have a larger area to cover. This change brings a greater responsibility and impact to each team's mission.

Vaslin dramatically paused, breaking the silence with his bold declaration. This was the first time in history that they had even considered the possibility of venturing into the treacherous Fiernan territory. For Caylen, it was a distant land, shrouded in mystery and forbidden for their people. His knowledge of it was limited, and it held little significance to him. However, Vaslin continued, emphasizing the importance of their mission. He stressed that the teams they would send out should not be expected to gather more than the vital nareallium, their main objective. What they truly needed was someone with the keen ability to record and interpret valuable information that could potentially shed light on the unknown dangers and secrets of Fiernan. This person should possess a unique sight, capable of recalling every detail of their journey and revisiting places they had been to before.

Neth forcefully shoved his chair back, causing it to topple over with a resounding crash as it hit the floor. "Are you serious?" he bellowed as he jumped to his feet. "People die out there. I am not a warrior, nor am I a scholar. Can you grasp that concept?" Elder Vaslin remained unfazed, rising from his seat with Caylen and Abbie following suit. His piercing gaze was fixed on Neth. "As I mentioned before, this is a voluntary mission. You are free to join or depart as you wish." There was a tense silence before Neth finally spoke up. "Then consider me a voluntary departure!" The Elder remained silent, simply gesturing towards the door. Without another word, Neth stormed out of the room. After a heavy pause, Vaslin returned to his seat, prompting Abbie and Caylen to do the same. Abbie couldn't contain her excitement as she spoke up. "So, what's next?" Caylen turned to Elder Vaslin with a determined expression. "Neth just refused to join the soldiers on the upcoming Great Hunt." Abbie's grin widened.

"Could it be true?" She eagerly asked Vaslin, "Did we truly receive an invitation to the Great Hunt?" "Yes," he responded with a lack of enthusiasm, his focus still on the doorway Neth had just exited through. Before Vaslin could elaborate, Abbs added, "Count me in." She grasped Caylen's arm and declared, "I'm in." Caylen hesitated, uncertain of her role. "How can my abilities be of use in the Great Divide? I've never ventured beyond Valia, and I'm no warrior. Perhaps my sight has its limitations, and the distance is too great." Elder Vaslin turned to Caylen. "That may be true. There are many uncertainties. But we believe you to be our greatest hope. Shylea’s greatest hope. Rest assured, we will do everything in our power to prepare you. Your safe return is our second priority after obtaining nareallium. Trust me, the soldiers participating in the are fiercely dedicated to putting the mission above all else. You will be in capable hands." Despite his love for Shylea, Caylen was filled with fear and unsure of what to do. The idea of being a librarian was beginning to seem quite appealing.