"Ah," Master Mercedius said, his voice reverent as he stopped before a set of towering doors fashioned from a dark metallic alloy veined with streams of liquid gold light. "This section is known as the First Archives."
He raised a hand and knocked at the center of the door
A deep resonant hum answered him.
Ancient mechanisms awakened within the walls. The massive doors shuddered, then parted inward with a low groan, as though disturbed from a sleep older than time itself.
Beyond lay a chamber so immense that both Chalisse Yen and Excellus instinctively halted at the threshold.
Yen's eyes widened. "What's in here, Master?"
Mercedius stepped inside, the reflected glow of countless holographic projections dancing across his lined face. "The very firsts of the entire reality," he said softly. "Memories preserved in quantum stasis. A witness to the birth of existence."
The room felt paradoxical—older than any ruin, yet more advanced than any civilization either of them had ever imagined.
The vaulted walls were lined with colossal transparent screens suspended in midair, each displaying holographic records of galaxies, stars, and worlds in their infancy. Endless rows of crystalline shelves stretched into the distance, each containing programmable matter frozen into miniature recreations of singular moments in cosmic history.
Mercedius gestured toward a vast spiral projection rotating slowly above them. "Down this path lies the archives of the Milky Way Galaxy."
They followed him down a long corridor.
On either side, displays chronicled milestones from across the galaxy.
Within one crystal case floated a sphere of incandescent plasma.
"The first protostar to ignite within the Milky Way," Mercedius explained. "The spark that announced our galaxy's awakening."
In another display, a cluster of luminescent particles swirled together, coalescing into a rocky sphere.
"The first planetary body to achieve hydrostatic equilibrium."
A few steps later, a blue-white orb shimmered with flickers of electricity.
"The first world to condense liquid water upon its surface."
Another case held a microscopic lattice rotating within a field of light.
"The earliest self-replicating molecular structure discovered in this galaxy."
Yen leaned closer, her reflection distorted across the glass. "That's the first life?"
"The first known precursor to life," Mercedius corrected gently.
Excellus stood in awed silence as they continued past the preserved first magnetic field, the first moon captured by a wandering planet, and the first multicellular organism to evolve in the galactic record.
At last, Mercedius slowed. "Ah… here it is. Our dear old galaxy." Age seeped into his voice, carrying the warmth of a man greeting an old friend.
They stepped across a luminous threshold into a circular chamber at the heart of the archive.
At its center floated a radiant sphere of compressed energy.
It pulsed like a living heart.
Filaments of gold and silver plasma spiraled around a blinding core, while streams of ionized particles arced outward in intricate patterns. Layers of spectral light rippled across its surface, and within the sphere, the violent fusion of primordial hydrogen unfolded in endless detail.
Yen whispered, "What is this?"
Mercedius smiled. "The first light born in the Milky Way." He clasped his hands behind his back and gazed at the miniature star. "This is the earliest recorded stellar ignition in our galaxy. A Population III progenitor, formed when gravity first overcame the darkness. Before planets. Before worlds. Before life. There was this."
The chamber fell silent save for the rhythmic pulse of ancient light.
Yen stared at the star, her eyes reflecting its brilliance. Excellus felt a strange tightness in his chest.
They were not merely studying history.
They were standing in the presence of the first dawn their galaxy had ever known.
"Feast your eyes," Mercedius said, spreading his arms toward the glowing relic. "An opportunity that comes once in never in a lifetime."
Excellus stepped closer, his face bathed in the star's primordial light. "I am deeply honored," he said quietly. "To stand—nay, even to breathe—in the presence of history."
Yen tilted her head, studying the ring of shifting symbols suspended above the display. "What are those symbols at the top?"
"Coordinates," Mercedius replied.
"What alphabet is that?"
The old master smiled. "My dear child, the Archives do not employ any alphabet known to mortal civilizations." He rested a hand over his chest. "If one opens the heart and quiets the mind, the meaning reveals itself. The Archives do not speak to intellect alone. They speak to vulnerability."
Yen blinked. "That is both ridiculous and amazing."
Her attention drifted past Mercedius to another crystal display behind him. Something about it tugged at her. She moved toward the case as though drawn by an invisible thread.
Inside, programmable matter projected a three-second loop.
A lone figure stood with their back turned, silhouetted against a barren crimson landscape. In their hands was a slender device that released a fine mist of luminous particles over a young tree no taller than a child.
The little tree swayed in a wind that no longer existed.
Yen's pulse quickened. Her throat tightened. "What is this?"
Mercedius turned and followed her gaze. "Ah," he said softly. "That, my dear, is the first tree ever planted in the Milky Way Galaxy."
Yen pressed her fingertips to the glass.
The figure continued its silent task—watering the sapling with deliberate, almost tender movements.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
Mercedius noticed immediately. "My dear," he asked gently, "what is wrong?"
Yen blinked, startled back to herself. "Oh—uh, nothing. I just…" She swallowed. "I don't know." She wiped at her face and forced a shaky breath. "How old is this memory, Master?"
Mercedius peered at the symbols rotating above the display. "The Archives do not measure time in conventional dates," he said. "Temporal flow varies from one celestial frame to another, making direct comparison imprecise. But if this is indeed the first tree…" He looked back at the projection. "Then we are likely observing an event millions, billions, perhaps trillions, of years in the past."
Yen frowned. "I always thought Earth had the first tree in our galaxy."
Mercedius narrowed his eyes and studied the coordinates more carefully. A flicker of surprise crossed his features. "Well," he murmured, "the coordinates do indicate Earth."
Excellus stared at the red world in disbelief. "What?" He stepped closer. "That's impossible. Earth wasn't always red… was it? And if this happened billions of years ago, how could there be a human? Assuming that is a human."
He gestured to the irrigation device in the figure's hand. "And what is that technology? Are you suggesting there was some advanced civilization on Earth before recorded history?"
Mercedius stroked his beard. "Every world begins in fire and iron, boyo. Earth was no exception." His gaze remained fixed on the looping memory. "But yes… the implications are perplexing."
He smiled faintly. "Still, there is one principle upon which the First Archives have never erred." He tapped the glass lightly with one finger. "The Archives do not lie."
The figure continued watering the fragile tree, alone beneath a crimson sky.
Mercedius turned to Yen. "Why does this memory hold you so completely?"
Yen stared at the silhouette, her eyes shimmering. "I don't know," she whispered. Her voice trembled. "But he looks so lonely." Another tear escaped despite her efforts to contain it. "And so sad."
"Ah… compassion," Mercedius said softly, his gaze lingering on the tears glistening in Yen's eyes. "The burden every chief must carry." He studied her for a moment, his ancient eyes unexpectedly gentle. "How do you do it, child?
Yen opened her mouth, but no answer came.
Mercedius's expression hardened, though not unkindly. "Now, pull yourself together. Let us not squander precious moments weeping before wonders few beings in the universe will ever behold."
He turned toward the doorway. "Need I remind you that the more time we spend here, the more time passes by on our home planet? Every second you spend crying is a second irretrievably lost."
Yen inhaled sharply and wiped her cheeks. "My apologies, Master," she said, forcing her voice to steady.
Mercedius gave a curt nod. "Come. The next room is one I suspect both of you will enjoy immensely."
He swept from the chamber, robes trailing behind him.
Excellus cast one last glance at the solitary figure tending the first tree, then hurried after the old master.
Yen remained. For a few heartbeats, the rest of the universe ceased to exist.
The red world glowed behind the glass. The lone figure stood beside the fragile sapling, watering it with patient, deliberate care.
Three seconds.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Though the face was hidden, Yen felt an ache in her chest so sharp it stole her breath. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
Then Mercedius's warning resurfaced in her mind.
The more time we spend here, the more time passes by on our home planet.
Yen drew one final, lingering look at the mysterious gardener.
Then she turned and ran after the others, the image of the lonely figure burned indelibly into her heart.
Mercedius continued leading them through the vast corridors of the Confluence Realm, each chamber more impossible than the last.
At length, he stopped before another sealed door.
Unlike the ornate entrance to the First Archives, this portal was smooth and circular, fashioned from a dark mirror-like material that reflected the stars embedded in the ceiling above. A narrow console protruded from the wall beside it, covered in shifting symbols that rearranged themselves beneath Mercedius's fingers.
He entered a sequence of coordinates.
The symbols flashed. With a sharp hiss, the circular door irised open.
Beyond it was the cosmos.
Yen froze.
There was no visible floor. No walls. No ceiling.
Only the black vastness of space and, suspended before them in breathtaking clarity, a blue and green sphere turning silently against the sun.
Yen's hand flew to her chest. "Is that Earth?"
Mercedius smiled and stepped inside. "Yes," he said. "Live and as it is at this very moment."
Excellus entered cautiously, his eyes darting around the chamber. "What is this place?" He squinted. "It feels like… a security room. Or a window." He turned to Mercedius. "Did we just travel from the Confluence Realm to our solar system?"
Mercedius chuckled. "No, boyo."
He tapped his foot lightly against the transparent floor beneath them. "During my short time on the surface, humans developed a primitive concept they call CCTV."
Yen frowned. "What's that?"
"A closed-circuit observation system." Mercedius gestured to the stars around them. "Some of the stars you see are not stars at all, but extraordinarily powerful observational instruments. I merely entered the coordinates of Earth, and one of those instruments aligned itself to our world."
He spread his arms. "This chamber is formally known as the Celestial Observation Nexus –MW/Δ-7A."
Yen stared at the planet hanging beneath their feet. "But it feels like we're standing right above Earth."
Mercedius's eyes twinkled. "That is because, my dear, this room is the telescope."
Yen let out a quiet gasp. "Oh." Then her expression brightened. "Can we look at Reefville?"
"Of course." Mercedius gave her a playful look. "Kill me if a technology capable of resolving details across light-years cannot zoom in on a single coastal settlement."
Yen and Excellus laughed.
Mercedius moved to the control panel and swept his hand across its surface.
Earth began to grow larger. Cloud systems spiraled across the globe as the blue curve expanded to fill more of the chamber. Continents sharpened into breathtaking detail, coastlines resolving with impossible clarity. The transition was so seamless that it felt less like magnification and more like a silent descent through the heavens.
The Philippine archipelago emerged beneath them, its islands scattered like emeralds across the western Pacific.
With a few precise motions on the control panel, Mercedius guided the view eastward across the vast Pacific Ocean. The planet rotated smoothly beneath their feet until the coastline of America came into focus, and the chamber continued its approach toward the continental United States.
"What is the purpose of this room, Master?" Yen glanced around the vast chamber. "It's a little disturbing to think someone might be watching us."
Mercedius turned to her, his expression earnest. "Oh, dear, no." He shook his head. "This chamber is used only once every thousand years to assess the status of inhabited worlds and ensure their biospheres remain stable."
He pointed to a line of symbols glowing near the ceiling. "According to the observation schedule, Earth will not be reviewed again for another seven hundred and sixty years."
Yen released a breath she had not realized she was holding. "Oh." A small smile returned to her lips. "Okay. That is actually very comforting."
Mercedius zoomed in further.
The blue of the Pacific rushed toward them until the chamber plunged beneath the ocean's surface.
Suddenly they were surrounded by water.
Schools of fish darted across their field of view, scales flashing like shards of silver. Sea turtles drifted lazily past, and shafts of sunlight filtered down from the world above.
Mercedius adjusted the controls again.
The chamber descended deeper. Sunlight faded. The water darkened to a cold, endless blue.
Then a calm synthetic voice resonated through the room. "Low-light threshold exceeded. Activating photonic enhancement."
Soft illumination flooded the surrounding waters, restoring perfect visibility.
Even with their night vision, the artificial light rendered the abyss in stunning clarity.
Mercedius guided the telescope onward.
The coral towers and familiar structures of Reefville emerged from the darkness.
At first Yen smiled in relief.
Then the smile vanished.
A chill swept through the room.
Tidecrafts were launching in every direction. Sirens swam frantically out of Reefville. The entire settlement was in chaos.
Yen stepped forward, horror spreading across her face. "Heavens." Her voice trembled. "What is happening? Master, what is happening? I can feel their panic."
"Hold on," Mercedius said, fingers racing over the controls. "Let me isolate the source."
The image tightened.
At the dockyard, two familiar figures came into focus.
Yve and Raine. They leapt into a tidecraft. The engine flared, and the vessel shot forward into the dark waters.
Yen's heart lurched. She seized the controls from Mercedius. Her hands flew over the panel as she scanned the rest of Reefville.
Broken homes. Shattered coral spires. Blood drifting through the water in crimson ribbons.
Bodies.
So many bodies.
Yen inhaled sharply. "We have to leave."
She redirected the telescope, locking onto the fleeing tidecraft.
The view closed in.
Yve's eyes were wide with terror. Raine's face was taut with fear.
Yen pressed trembling fingers to the glass. "Yve," she whispered. "My child." She spun toward Mercedius. "Tour's over, Master." Her voice left no room for argument. "We have to go."
Mercedius nodded. "I will notify the Keeper of our departure," he said. "And retrieve the Investigator His Grace was kind enough to lend us."
Yen was already running. Excellus raced beside her as they burst from the Celestial Observation Nexus.
"Meet you at the tidecraft!" Yen shouted over her shoulder.
The two sprinted through the luminous corridors of the Confluence Realm.
Yen's breathing grew ragged. "We should never have stayed."
Excellus glanced at her. "Chieftess." He slowed just enough to catch her arm. "You go with Master Mercedius."
Yen stared at him.
"I'll get the tidecraft."
"Are you sure?"
Excellus gave her a determined nod. "Yes."
For a heartbeat, Yen hesitated. Then she turned and ran back toward Mercedius, her heart pounding harder with every step.
~~~
Excellus reached the parked tidecraft at a run. He struck the side panel once, hard. A moment later, the co-pilot inside glanced up, hit a control, and the hatch hissed open.
Excellus climbed in without hesitation and dropped into the pilot's seat.
The co-pilot frowned. "What's the matter, General?"
"We have to go," Excellus said sharply. "Start the engines."
The urgency in his voice erased any further questions. The co-pilot immediately turned to his console, fingers moving across illuminated keys. Excellus mirrored him on the pilot interface, initiating system checks in parallel.
The vessel shuddered as power came online. Engines began to hum—low at first, then steadily rising in pitch.
Through the sideward viewport, Excellus caught sight of movement down the corridor.
Three figures running.
"Why is this place is too big," Excellus muttered under his breath.
He gripped the controls, then adjusted trajectory and throttled forward. The tidecraft surged out of its berth, gliding low along the corridor to meet them halfway. It slowed just enough to hover. The side hatch snapped open.
"Get in!" Excellus shouted. "Get in!"
Yen reached them first, pulling Mercedius aboard with hurried strength. She climbed in right after him, breath uneven, eyes still burning with urgency.
The Investigator was already moving toward the front console.
"What are you doing?" Excellus demanded.
Without looking back, the Investigator answered calmly. "This is faster."
He produced a small orb from within his coat and locked it into a recessed mount at the nose of the vessel. It clicked into place with a magnetic snap.
Then he climbed inside and took a seat. "Hey, Syb," he said.
A synthetic voice immediately responded from the vessel's systems. "Override engaged."
The Investigator leaned forward. "Open current MW-SOL System–EA003. Set destination: R-E-E-F-V-I-L-L-E."
The AI repeated the coordinates in a flat, precise tone.
Energy surged into the orb at the front of the craft. Light twisted inward, compressing into a spiraling singularity.
A portal tore open in front of them—silent, clean, absolute.
The tidecraft did not accelerate.
It simply moved.
As if space itself had agreed to fold.
The vessel slipped into the passage, swallowed by luminous distortion.
Inside, Excellus gripped the console.
The co-pilot stared, stunned.
Then, in an instant—
The light collapsed.
The tidecraft reformed in stable water, settling in front of the torn gates of Reefville.