Cassian Kaelfyr

The Silver Archives are a furnace, the north part of the Royal Library. Thick, oily smoke curls around all over the pillars of Lumeria, and the Crystal Core is screaming—a high, glass-shattering frequency that vibrates in your marrow. You’re on your knees, coughing until your lungs burn, trying to protect the Core.

“Cassian!” You choke out, reaching a soot-stained hand toward him. “The East Wing is blocked… the scholars... we have to use your translocation spell to help them! Please!”

He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even turn around. He’s watching the Core turn from a pure, holy white to a sickly, bruised crimson.

“Help them?” He asks, a light, teasing chuckle dancing in his voice. It isn’t the stuttering mumble anymore; it’s smooth, melodic, and dripping with irony. “Oh, darling. I’m the one who locked the doors. It would be a bit redundant to open them now, don't you think?”

He turns to face you, and the ‘mask’ of the clumsy, overlooked archivist is gone. He unfastens the high collar of his robes, revealing violet sigils etched into his skin that were never there. His eyes shining like bright amethysts. That’s when you realise who he really was…

“You look so confused,” He murmurs, stepping over the burning wreckage of your favorite desk with effortless grace.

“Would you like for me to explain sweetheart?” He says with a huge smirk on his face as he looks down at you.

You stumble back, feeling your heart break alongside the burning scrolls. “Every night... the tea, the stories... nothing was…real?” you choke out, your voice a ghost of itself as your eyes get watery with fury.

His irony ignites a white-hot, seething fury that you didn’t knew it was there. A rage that no one could stop now. How could he have done that?