Chapter 4: Sanctum
Iris pushed open the door and stepped inside with a calm, unreadable expression. The room appeared ordinary at first glance—a wooden door stood on the opposite side, the word "Library" engraved upon it, while beside it stretched a completely empty wall devoid of decorations or markings. She advanced toward the seemingly unremarkable surface, her footsteps soft and measured. Yet despite her composed demeanor, her eyes frequently swept across the surroundings, turning slightly every few steps to ensure no one had followed or observed her. Only after confirming her solitude did she finally halt before the blank expanse.
"Congiato," she murmured softly. The strange word echoed faintly through the silence. Nothing happened. The wall remained unchanged—motionless, lifeless, as if carved from eternal stone. No symbols emerged, no hidden mechanisms revealed themselves. To any ordinary observer, it would have seemed she'd merely whispered a meaningless phrase to an inert slab. Yet Iris showed no surprise. Without hesitation, she stepped forward. The moment her body touched the surface, the impossible occurred—the wall swallowed her whole. There was no distortion, no visible opening, no sign of a concealed entrance. One instant she stood before solid stone; the next, she had vanished beyond it, as though the barrier had briefly turned liquid, yielding only to her.
Beyond the hidden passage lay a world entirely different from the one above. Darkness dominated the vast chamber. A handful of ancient lamps hung upon the walls, their dim flames barely illuminating the surroundings. Their weak glow revealed only fragments of the place, leaving the majority shrouded beneath layers of shadow. The atmosphere itself felt unnatural—a strange pressure lingered in the air, subtle yet undeniable, stirring instinctive unease in anyone who entered. It was as though countless secrets had been buried within these walls over centuries. Streams of mist drifted silently through the darkness—green, yellow, black—the three colors intertwining, forming an eerie veil that flowed through the chamber like living spirits. The mist neither dispersed nor settled, suspended in the air as though obeying laws unknown to the outside world.
Standing amidst the dim glow and drifting vapors, Iris appeared less like an ordinary citizen and more like a traveler who had crossed the threshold into a realm hidden from mankind. Beyond the hidden entrance stretched a descending staircase vanishing into the depths of the underground structure. Alongside it extended a corridor lined with numerous doors embedded within darkened walls. The stone surfaces were engraved with intricate ancient patterns painted in shades of crimson and gold—elegant and archaic, as though they belonged to a civilization long forgotten by history. Each door differed from the others: some bore circular symbols, others geometric markings or strange emblems incomprehensible to ordinary minds. The symbols were accompanied by inscriptions in an unfamiliar language, their flowing characters crawling across the frames like living creatures. Judging by their variations, the markings likely denoted the purpose, rank, or significance of the chambers concealed beyond.
Iris paid little attention to the surroundings. It was evident she had traversed this path countless times before. With practiced familiarity, she ascended the staircase and continued toward the upper level of the hidden facility. The atmosphere remained heavy and silent, disturbed only by the faint echoes of her footsteps. Upon reaching the first floor, three doors appeared before her, positioned at equal distances beneath the dim glow of the hanging lamps. Without hesitation, Iris approached the central door. Unlike many of the chambers below, this one possessed no elaborate insignia or decorative markings. Its plain appearance concealed any clue regarding its purpose, making it seem almost insignificant compared to the ornate doors scattered throughout the underground complex.
She pushed it open and stepped inside. A spacious reception hall unfolded before her eyes. At the center stood a broad circular table crafted from dark polished wood—its thick structure imposing, as though it had witnessed countless meetings and confidential discussions over the years. Several chairs surrounded it, while shelves and cabinets occupied the edges of the chamber. Seated comfortably behind the table was a young man whose appearance immediately attracted attention. His hairstyle could only be described as absurd—dark strands of hair pointed in several directions, as though they had completely ignored the concept of order. Despite this, his facial features were relatively ordinary. Sharp black eyes rested beneath relaxed brows, while his medium-angular face carried an expression perpetually on the verge of laughter. A playful smile lingered upon his lips, giving him the air of someone who treated life as an endless source of amusement.
The moment Iris entered, those sharp eyes shifted toward her, carrying a hint of curiosity hidden beneath their humorous gleam. Unlike the lower levels, the reception hall was far more welcoming. Numerous lamps hung from the walls and ceiling, their warm radiance dispersing the shadows that dominated the underground structure. The combined illumination bathed the chamber in a gentle golden glow, creating an atmosphere surprisingly comfortable despite the mysteries hidden within. Beyond the circular reception desk extended two separate passageways leading deeper into the organization's interior. Wisps of colored mist drifted through both corridors, intertwining and separating like living streams—one carrying traces of dark emerald and gold, the other blending shades of black and amber. The strange vapors added an eerie elegance to the surroundings, making the hidden facility feel detached from the ordinary world above.
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"YOU ARE LATE!" The young man suddenly exclaimed, his voice echoing throughout the hall. Despite the accusation, the broad grin on his face betrayed that he found the situation more amusing than irritating. Iris barely reacted. "Stop trying to imitate Vanguard, Lysander Cross," she replied flatly as she approached the reception desk. "The meaning behind your name and the way you behave are complete opposites." A look of exaggerated contemplation appeared on his face. "Should I consider that a compliment or a criticism?" he asked, his smile widening even further. Iris sighed inwardly. She had already worked with him long enough to know the outcome of this conversation. No matter what answer she provided, Lysander would somehow twist it into another joke. "Would the answer affect you in any way?" she asked. The grin lingering on his face immediately supplied the answer. Not at all. "Let us postpone this conversation for another time," Lysander said with a playful smile. "You are already late enough, and Vaelor Alistair Valerius specifically instructed me to notify him the moment you arrived."
The words instantly erased Iris's indifference. Vaelor. In the Oryth language, the title meant Captain. "For real?" Iris exclaimed. "Now I'm definitely in trouble." Before Lysander could continue teasing her, another voice emerged from the corridor leading deeper into the facility. "Why do all of you act as if the Captain is some terrifying monster?" A tall woman stepped into the reception hall. Her complexion was pale, her sharp facial features carrying a perpetual expression of irritation—as though anger had become a permanent resident upon her face, refusing to leave regardless of circumstance. Even while standing still, she appeared ready to begin an argument with the next unfortunate soul she encountered. It was Lyra Vane. "He is one of the friendliest people in this entire organization," she continued in a restrained yet clearly irritated tone. "Frankly, we're the ones who don't deserve his patience." Lysander merely laughed. Iris, however, had no intention of becoming involved in another one of their endless debates. Without wasting another second, she hurried toward the inner sections of the facility.
The left corridor stretched before her, and she quickly passed by Lyra, whose posture remained as rigid as a knight standing guard. The deeper Iris ventured into the building, the quieter the atmosphere became. The distant conversations of the reception hall gradually faded behind her, replaced by silence and the faint glow of the hanging lamps. After nearly fifteen seconds of brisk walking, she finally arrived before an imposing door. Unlike the others scattered throughout the facility, this one possessed a far grander appearance. Intricate golden and crimson patterns adorned its frame, intertwining into elaborate designs that seemed impossible to fully comprehend. The symbols flowed across the borders like ancient runes, radiating an air of authority and significance. Mounted above the entrance was a polished plaque. Upon it, written in elegant Oryth script, were two simple words: Captain's Room.
Iris halted before the door and instinctively straightened her posture. No matter how many times she visited this office, standing before it always carried a peculiar sense of pressure. She approached the door and knocked gently. Although she knew the Captain was far more patient than most people claimed, arriving late was still arriving late. There was little reason to test the limits of that patience. A few moments later, a mildly raspy voice drifted from beyond the door. "Come in." Iris slowly pushed the door open.
The office beyond was surprisingly dim. Only a handful of lamps illuminated the room, yet each emitted a different hue—crimson, emerald, golden, and violet lights blended together across the chamber, painting the walls and furniture with shifting colors that gave the place an almost dreamlike atmosphere. Her eyes instinctively moved toward the enormous window occupying the far side of the office. Beyond the glass stood a sight that never failed to inspire awe—a colossal golden tree dominating the landscape. Its branches stretched across the heavens like the limbs of an ancient god, while streams of purple, crimson, and emerald radiance flowed through its trunk and leaves. The immense tree seemed less like a living organism and more like a sacred monument left behind by a forgotten age. Its height reached nearly a full Horizon-Gaze, while its trunk alone possessed a width of more than five hundred Great-Paces.
To ordinary people, such measurements might appear strange, yet they were common throughout the world. Distances were not measured in the manner of ancient civilizations but through units that had gradually become standardized over centuries. The smallest commonly used measure was the Thumb-Width, representing the width of an average person's thumb. For everyday travel and military movement, the Great-Pace served as the standard, corresponding to the length of a soldier's stride. Larger distances were measured in Thousand-Strides, a unit representing one thousand average soldier steps. Beyond that existed the Horizon-Gaze—a measure so vast it represented the approximate distance the human eye could perceive across open land before the horizon concealed the world beyond. For extremely tiny measurements, scholars and craftsmen often used the Andorra-Bug Scale, named after a minuscule insect renowned for its microscopic size.
Andorra Bug: 1 centimeter
Thumb-width: 1 inch
Great-pace: 1 metre
Thousand-stride: 1 kilometer
Horizon-gaze: 1 mile.
Standing before the immense window, Iris briefly gazed upon the sacred tree. Even after countless visits, its presence remained overwhelming. It was as though an ancient witness of history stood silently beyond the glass, observing the rise and fall of kingdoms while remaining untouched by the passage of time. Seated beside the enormous window was the Captain.