The Royal Archives were open to all who looked to expand and enrich their minds. Books, appendices, scrolls, and parchment fill every nook and cranny. Some old as time and others older still. The more exclusive tomes however, were placed behind the Iron Bars of the Holy Library. An area open to none but the highest priests. Such restrictions never stopped her before.
A lone figure roams the twisted shelves and stairs that compose this majestic space. Staring at a stack of scrolls, she can’t help but notice that she’s finally found what she’s been looking for. Wrapped around each of the scrolls is a ribbon, complete with a metal pin, flared wings and an entwined star, the symbol of Divinas.
She removes the ribbon, the ping of the metal pin resonating through the silent aisles and grand ceiling. Someone would have heard, she had to act quickly. Unrolling each of the scrolls one by one, she sees that each is more inscribed with old Asalian than the last. She rushes to decipher them, but finds them to be nothing more than fragments. Another deadend. There would be no answers it seemed. In the distance she could hear a group of high priests rushing up the nearby stairs.
“Who goes there,” they call out, getting closer and closer.
She would have to fight her way out. Her eyes flare and she begins to concentrate, collecting her power as a small wisp of flame that wove itself between her fingers. More than enough to take care of some coddled Divinian priests.
With a whip of her arms, she hurls a fireball, engulfing one of their robes as they round a corner. The other two panic, pushing him to the ground to stifle the flames looking to the attacker. They see her but for a moment. An Umbral. Her blood red eyes, ashen skin, and rippled horns send chills down their spine.
“Demon,” they shout, pelting her with starlight as she runs to the window behind her. Concentrating again, the stones at her feet chip and assimilate around her, forming a hardshell as she lunges through the stained glass.
With a painful crash she lands on the street, the gravel of her temporary armor falling from her as she pulls herself up. The priests at the window begin to ready themselves for another attack. The Umbral mage concentrates again, summoning the water from a nearby trough and rushing it towards the priests.
The priests, knocked back by the violent wave, compose themselves and prepare to counter, only to find the emptiness of the city street below them. Just a small pile of slightly bloodied gravel remained. The truth she sought, would have to be saved for another day.