AQ1: Nightbloom's Veil 3.7 ch3 release

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<li>[[portal pass]]</li> <li>[[character stats]]</li> <li>[[the compendium]]</li>

<<set $chapter to "portal pass application">> !!Thank you for your interest in Caligo, home to the Sovereign's nightflowers. !!Please fill out the following identification form to be considered for a portal pass. <span class="next"><<button "Begin Application" "portal pass application">><</button>></span>

/* Multipronouns Variables*/ <<set $prons to 0>> <<set $arr_they to []>> <<set $arr_them to []>> <<set $arr_their to []>> <<set $arr_theirs to []>> <<set $arr_themself to []>> <<set $arr_plural to []>> <<set $mc_they to "">> <<set $mc_them to "">> <<set $mc_their to "">> <<set $mc_theirs to "">> <<set $mc_themself to "">> <<set $mc_plural to false>> <<set $mc_is to "">> <<set $mc_was to "">> <<set $mc_s to "">> <<set $mc_theyre to "">> <<set $mc_has to "">> /* character customization */ $fname $lname $skin_tone $eye_color $hair_color $hair_text $hair_length $hair_style $height $clothes $gender $pronoun /* belief system */ $beliefsys $prophetname $coreclass $coretype $angelcoreclass $angelcoretype /* relationships */ $twyl_stat $xander_stat $pantella_stat $romance $friendship $vs $twylhug /* other */ $drink1 $snack1 $chapter /* starting stats */ <<set $twyl_stat = 5>> <<set $xander_stat = 0>> <<set $pantella_stat = 1>> <<set $candid = 0>> <<set $secretive = 0>> <<set $reserved = 0>> <<set $sociable = 0>> <<set $patient = 0>> <<set $impatient = 0>> /* character traits */ $perception $insightful $observant $mannerisms $disclosure $secretive $candid $social skills $reserved $sociable $temperament $patient $impatient /* flirt only, based on social skills */ $prudish $amorous /*music*/ <<cacheaudio "titlesong" "music/titlesong.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "doorslam" "music/doorslam.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "chapter1" "music/chapter1.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "chapter2" "music/chapter2.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "chapter3" "music/chapter3.mp3">> <<cacheaudio "angeldream1" "music/angeldream1.mp3">>

/* custom widgets go in here */ <<widget "are">><<switch $plural>><<case true>>are<<case false>>is<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "were">><<switch $plural>><<case true>>were<<case false>>was<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "s">><<switch $plural>><<case true>><<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "es">><<switch $plural>><<case true>><<case false>>es<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "re">><<switch $plural>><<case true>>re<<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "ve">><<switch $plural>><<case true>>ve<<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>>

<div style="text-align: center;"> !❀❀❀ !CALIGAN PORTAL PASS !!ISSUED ON 24 KAAMIL, YEAR 1572 VIDIUS !!EXPIRES ON 25 EDIVA, YEAR 1572 VIDIUS <i> Please contact the Crimson Magistrate's office for an extention.</i> <b>Full Name:</b> <<if not hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>\ <<elseif hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>$fname $lname<</if>> <b>Pronoun(s):</b> <<if not hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>\ <<elseif hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>?mcThey $mc_is / ?mcThey $mc_is / ?mcThey $mc_is <</if>> <b>Caligan D.O.B:</b> <<if not hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>\ <<elseif hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>Cecelia 1 Year 1550 Vidius<</if>> <b>Residence:</b> <<if not hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>\ <<elseif hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>Aurora Vista, Southern Terra <</if>> <b>Occupation:</b> <<if not hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>\ <<elseif hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>Courier<</if>> <b>Height:</b> <<if not hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>\ <<elseif hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>$height<</if>> <b>Skin Tone:</b><<if not hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>\ <<elseif hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>> $skin_tone<</if>> <b>Eye Color:</b> <<if not hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>\ <<elseif hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>$eye_color<</if>> <b>Hair Color:</b> <<if not hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>\ <<elseif hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>$hair_color<</if>> <b>Hair Texture:</b> <<if not hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>\ <<elseif hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>$hair_text<</if>> <b>Hair Length:</b> <<if not hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>>\ <<elseif hasVisited("portal pass confirmation page 2")>> $hair_length<</if>> <a data-passage="character stats" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/outfit.png" style="max-height: 70px"> </a> <<if $clothes is "outfit 1">> This outfit combines a frilly shirt with a tough leather corset, which is surprisingly unrestrictive. You pair it with sleek, skin-tight leather pants and comfortable lace-up boots that stop below your knees. It combines the vibe of both elegance and edge. You chose the colors of the pieces and accessories to complement your $skin_tone skin. <<elseif $clothes is "outfit 2">> The oversized hoodie with a design you chose fits you three times as big as a regular sweatshirt and it falls above your knees. The ripped fishnet stockings are breathable and cover your legs just enough. Paired with platform combat boots that make you just a little taller, this outfit is comfortable and stylish. You chose the colors of the pieces and accessories to complement your $skin_tone skin. <<elseif $clothes is "outfit 3">> This outfit pairs a leather jacket with a graphic t-shirt of your choosing. The cargo pants fit you exactly how you want and add practicality while sneakers bring a sporty vibe, creating a casual yet stylish look. You chose the colors of the pieces and accessories to complement your $skin_tone skin. <<elseif $clothes is "outfit 4">> This outfit pairs a turtleneck sweater for warmth with a trench coat for timeless style. Tailored slacks fit you perfectly, while dress shoes are more comfortable than they looked. Looking closely at the trench coat, you realize there is a setting to change the color of the fabric. You chose the colors of the pieces and accessories to complement your $skin_tone skin and give the outfit a polished, elevated look. <<elseif $clothes is "outfit 5">> This outfit combines luxury and mystery. The velvet bodysuit fits you snugly, and the leggings are warmer than you thought they’d be. Layered over is a floor-length hooded cloak, and you wear soft, knee-high leather boots to complete the look. You chose the colors of the pieces and accessories to complement your $skin_tone skin. <</if>> !❀❀❀ <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

Another page to do whatever you want with! I really just wanted another page to fill out the footer menu<3 ---- !Heading 1 !!Heading 2 !!!Heading 3 <<cycle "$cycling" autoselect>> <<option "Cycling link 1">> <<option "Cycling link 2">> <<option "Cycling link 3">> <</cycle>> <<textbox "$textbox" "Type here...">><<button "Submit">><</button>> * List item 1 * List item 2 * List item 3 <<set $they to "They">><<set $plural to true>>\ Here's an example of how the 'Live Update' macro by Cycy works: *<<link "She/Her">><<set $they to "She">><<set $plural to false>><<update>><</link>> *<<link "He/Him">><<set $they to "He">><<set $plural to false>><<update>><</link>> *<<link "They/Them">><<set $they to "They">><<set $plural to true>><<update>><</link>> <<liveblock>> $they <<are>> super fun and love<<s>> cupcakes. <</liveblock>> You can also use it to update the dialog labels! Try it by opening the settings menu and toggling the dialog labels button :) <<liveblock>> *<<link "Choice with flirt label $flirt_label" "4">><</link>> *<<link "Choice with info label $info_label" "4">><</link>> <</liveblock>> <<nobr>> <li><<link "character stats">><<script>> Dialog.setup("character stats"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("character stats").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>><</link>></li> <</nobr>> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>>

<div style="text-align: center;"> <a data-passage="character stats" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/mannerisms.png" style="max-height: 70px"> </a> <<if $disclosure is "candid">> You are naturally inclined to be open and straightforward in your communication. You speak your mind honestly, valuing transparency over secrecy. You believe in expressing your thoughts and feelings clearly and directly, without holding back. <<elseif $disclosure is "secretive">> You have a tendency to keep your thoughts and feelings to yourself. You are selective about what you share and with whom, often preferring to keep personal matters confidential. Your private nature has made you skilled at non-answers and deflection. <</if>> <<if $socialskills is "reserved">> You prefer to keep interactions with others short, obtaining necessary information without prying. You prefer to listen to others before asserting your own opinion. You can come across as quiet or formal to others, but it is rooted in politeness. <<elseif $socialskills is "sociable">> You enjoy striking up a conversation with someone and learning about them. You can come across as outgoing and friendly, and your inquisitive attitude toward others makes folk gravitate toward you. You find that you have a face that folks feel they can tell anything to. <</if>> <<if $temperament is "patient">> You possess a remarkable ability to remain calm and composed, especially in stressful situations. Your patient nature allows you to wait for the right moment to approach problems methodically. You understand that things often take time, and you are willing to invest that time to achieve a positive outcome. <<elseif $temperament is "impatient">> You have a strong desire for immediate results and often find it difficult to wait. Your impatient nature makes you restless and eager to move forward quickly, sometimes leading to hasty decisions. You prefer when things keep moving, rather than stagnating. <</if>> <a data-passage="character stats" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/perception.png" style="max-height: 70px"> </a> <<if $perception is "insightful">> You have the inherent ability to understand someone’s feelings; combining empathy and logic with intuition as the guiding hand. You are deeply empathic and can relate to what others are feeling, making you a master of insight. <<elseif $perception is "observant">> You can notice things about the world around you that others might miss and possess a strong attention to physical details. You use deductive reasoning to understand situations and people, making you a master of observation. <</if>> <a data-passage="character stats" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/beliefsys.png" style="max-height: 70px"> </a> <<if $beliefsys is "The Celestial Dance">> <b>The Celestial Dance:</b> You are a believer in Nandini the Last Starweaver, who possessed the power to commune with celestial entities. You believe in the universe’s balance, which is upheld through the Celestial Dance of creation and destruction. You worship celestial bodies like the Terran sun and moon. Your belief is that the universe will be remade if it is ever destroyed, following the natural cycle. <<elseif $beliefsys is "Nairan Druidism">> <b>Nairan Druidism:</b> Your studies revolved around the teachings of Alder Naira, the esteemed high dryad. Alder taught you about resilience and strength of nature, reminding you of your sacred connection to it. At the start, all things had their origins in nature. Ultimately, everything will go back to nature. <<elseif $beliefsys is "Temporalism">> <b>Temporalism:</b> You are a follower of Rowena Linden, the Divine Threadwalker. She possessed the unique power to communicate with the Threads of Time and manipulate Space. Rowena found out that these things were not mere concepts, but actual Eldarbeings with thoughts and feelings. If anything were to happen to these entities, you believe that everything would come to an end. <<elseif $beliefsys is "Harmonic Joysong">> <b>Harmonic Joysong:</b> You’ve dedicated yourself to The Radiant Hymns by Aurelia Joysong, a path to living in tranquility alongside the universe. Your belief lies in the power of song, the beauty of life, and the significance of love. You aim to thoroughly explore the human experience, bringing joy and creativity without causing harm. By doing that, you achieve perfect harmony with the universe. <</if>> <a data-passage="character stats" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/abilities.png" style="max-height: 70px"> </a> <b>Core Class:</b> <<if $coreclass is true>>$angelcoreclass<<else>>Requiem<</if>> <b>Core Type:</b> <<if $coretype is "true">>$angelcoretype<<else>>Chaos<</if>> <b>Abilities:</b> <<if $angelcoretype is "">>""<<else>>None<</if>> <b>Boon:</b> <<if $angelcoretype is "">>""<<else>>None<</if>> <a data-passage="character stats" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/relationships.png" style="max-height: 70px"> </a> <b>Version:</b> <<if $vs is true>>Romance<<elseif $vs is false>>Friendship<</if>> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

<<if settings.notifications>><<notify 3s>><b>Portal Pass Accepted!</b><</notify>><</if>> Thank you for filing a portal pass request with us. Our Sovereign is pleased with your interest in Caligo. If you are a citizen of Elucido applying to visit Caligo, we will reach out to you with an update within 7 to 14 days. If you are a citizen of Terra applying to visit Caligo, we will reach out to you with an update within 14 to 28 days. If you are a citizen of Tenebrae or Insomnium applying to leave or return to Caligo, we will reach out to you with an update within 7 days. If you are a citizen of Umbra applying to leave Caligo, we will reach out to you with an update within 60 days. If you are a citizen of Umbra applying to return to Caligo, we will reach out to you with an update within 3 days. Processing times are set by the Sovereign’s Crimson Court. Please direct any concerns to the Crimson Magistrate’s office. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "version selection">><</button>></span>

!!Fill out the following information accurately: <b>First Name:</b> <<textbox "$fname" "">> <b>Last Name:</b> <<textbox "$lname" "">> <<button "See Name Suggestions">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Name Suggestions"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Name Suggestions").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</button>> <b>Skin Tone:</b> <<listbox "$skin_tone" >> <<option "Porcelain" >> <<option "Ivory" >> <<option "Bisque" >> <<option "Peach" >> <<option "Carmel" >> <<option "Tan" >> <<option "Tawny" >> <<option "Russet" >> <<option "Umber" >> <<option "Bronze" >> <<option "Mahogany" >> <<option "Espresso" >> <</listbox>> <b>Eye Color:</b> <<listbox "$eye_color" >> <<option "Gray" >> <<option "Black" >> <<option "Brown" >> <<option "Dark Brown" >> <<option "Light Brown" >> <<option "Dark Green" >> <<option "Light Green" >> <<option "Dark Blue" >> <<option "Light Blue" >> <<option "Gray-Blue" >> <<option "Gray-Green" >> <<option "Hazel-Green" >> <<option "Hazel-Brown" >> <</listbox>> <b>Height:</b> <<listbox "$height">> <<option "Very Short" >> <<option "Short" >> <<option "Average" >> <<option "Tall" >> <<option "Very Tall" >> <</listbox>> <b>Hair Color:</b> <<listbox "$hair_color" >> <<option "Platinum Blonde" >> <<option "Ash Blonde" >> <<option "Dirty Blonde" >> <<option "Honey Blonde" >> <<option "Blue Black" >> <<option "Black" >> <<option "Light Brown" >> <<option "Dark Brown" >> <<option "Strawberry Blonde" >> <<option "Ginger" >> <<option "Copper" >> <<option "Auburn" >> <</listbox>> <b>Hair Texture:</b> <<listbox "$hair_text" >> <<option "Straight (type 1)" >> <<option "Wavy (type 2)" >> <<option "Curly (type 3)" >> <<option "Coily (type 4)" >> <</listbox>> <b>Hair Length:</b> <<listbox "$hair_length" >> <<option "Cropped" >> <<option "Short" >> <<option "Shoulder length" >> <<option "Long" >> <</listbox>> <span class="next"><<button "Set Your Pronouns" "pronoun selection page">><</button>></span>

!!Verify that the information you entered is correct. Your request will be subjected to additional review if the information does not match our records. <b>Full Name:</b> $fname $lname <b>Pronoun(s):</b> ?mcThey $mc_is / ?mcThey $mc_is / ?mcThey $mc_is <b>Race:</b> Human <b>Residence</b>: Aurora Vista, Southern Terra <b>Occupation:</b> Courier <b>Core Type:</b> Requiem <b>Core Class:</b> Chaos <b>Core User:</b> No: Unstable Core <b>Skin Tone:</b> $skin_tone <b>Eye Color:</b> $eye_color <b>Height:</b> $height <b>Hair Color:</b> $hair_color <b>Hair Texture:</b> $hair_text <b>Hair Length:</b> $hair_length <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "portal pass confirmation page 2">><</button>></span>

There is an optional romance element to this game. There are two male love interests. The romance element does not affect the main plot. The romance version of the story puts an emphasis on love and relationships, and includes flirt options that lead to romantic events. The non-romance version of the story puts an emphasis on friendship and chosen family, and includes platonic options to get to know the characters. Which version of the story would you like to read? Keep in mind that this choice is locked in, and you will not be able to change it later. [[Romance|Romance Path]] [[Friendship|Friendship Path]]

<<set $vs to true>> <<set $chapter to "chapter one">> <div style="text-align: center;"> <a data-passage="CH1.S1" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/ch1.s0.png" style="max-height: 600px"> </a> </div>

<<set $vs to false>> <<set $chapter to "chapter one">> <div style="text-align: center;"> <a data-passage="CH1.S1" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/ch1.s0.png" style="max-height: 600px"> </a> </div>

!!Feminine Sarojini (sah-ro-gene-e) Ezrys (ez-rees) Aerin (a-rin) Irilis (ee-ree-lees) !!Masculine Zayn (zay-n) Dariel (dah-ree-el) Nuryn (nu-rin) Khian (kee-an) !!Neutral Vale (vay-l) Nour (nor) Sryth (sss-ryth) Asuvrus (azu-vruz) !!Last Names Engstrom (eng-st-rom) Irani (ee-ran-ee) Vasser (vas-er) Bechtel (bek-tal)

<i><b>Terran Year 3150</b></i> You burst into your room and slam the door behind you before tossing your bag onto the floor, and then collapse onto the bed. As you curl up into a ball, tears streaming down your cheeks, you instinctively cover your mouth to stifle the sound. The distant sounds of laughter and chatter filled the air, as other trainees and their families reunite. You had to stand there looking through crowds of folks for your parents for hours, but when you checked with the main office, they never even showed. You desperately tried to wipe away your tears, the shame of the awkward situation still burning in your cheeks. Metalia was there, too, and she saw the moment you broke. You did not stick around to see her laugh at you. <i>How could they not show up for me today?</i> is one of many thoughts running through your head. You have been enrolled at the Institute for six months now—and haven't seen them once. Six months ago, your parents told you they no longer had capacity in their home for you, and that they arranged for you to begin prophet training away from them. Although you were aware of the longstanding tension between them and yourself, you never imagined they would just kick you out. You reluctantly agreed, having nowhere else to go. The Institute would provide meals, clothing, and housing. The school would employ you and you would start life as a follower of your chosen Ascended Prophet. They gave their word that they would visit the last time you spoke, but their absence today shouldn’t come as a shock. Lyla and Persephone were notorious for not following through on their commitments to you. They proved to you time and time again that they shouldn’t be trusted, yet you still hoped every time that they’d prove you wrong. Bitterness blooms within you, questioning their motivations to adopt you if they were going to ultimately abandon you. Abandoned. Again. <i> The parents who chose me don’t even want me. </i> Before you can go down a rabbit hole that would shatter what remains of your self-esteem, a knock at the door breaks your focus. You groan, preparing yourself to scold whoever it is that disrupts your wallowing. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "prologue 2">><</button>></span>

<<audio titlesong play>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <a data-passage="true prologue" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/titlepage.png" style="max-height: 600px"> </a> </div>

The moment you unlock the door, your mentor scurries in and closes the door behind her. Your gaze meets a pair of violet eyes, filled with tenderness. "Please don’t look at me like that, Reva," you say, collapsing back onto your bed, "I don’t need anymore pitying looks today." "We… should talk," Reva says quietly, taking a seat at your desk. She brushes back her short, brown hair then clasps her hands together tightly. You sit up and meet her eyes, your heart racing faster in your chest. "Are my moms here?" You look at her with wide eyes, a small smile beginning to form on your lips. <i> They proved me wrong! </i> Reva looks away for a moment, flinching at the hope in your voice. Your bubble of hope transforms into fear, and what was growing of your smile now shifts to a frown. "Reva," you say quietly, breath catching, "What’s going on?" She wrings her shaking hands, then shifts her gaze towards you, her eyes becoming moist with tears. "R-regrettably, there has been an accident," she begins with caution, causing your heart to plummet. All hope has drained from your body. Her lips move before the words emerge, and eventually she says, "Lyla and Persephone have perished." The word ‘perished’ reverberates in your mind, gradually transforming into a resounding ringing sensation in your ears. You lean forward, trembling, "How?" "…Something went awry during an experiment. They’re still investigating," Reva replies. "And their bodies?" you ask, leaning against the mattress frame. You allow your tears to roll down your face freely as you contemplate what this means. Reva’s lips purse and a tear falls from her eye as she shakes her head. You feel your lunch coming up and rush to lean over to the trash can, emptying the contents of your stomach into it. A soft rustle of fabric against skin accompanies your motion as you slump against the mattress frame. The tears seem to be never-ending, and Reva crouches down next to you. As your cries fill the room, she envelops you in her arms; the sound of your sobs reverberates through the dormitory hallway. Now, there was only you, with no parents, siblings, or anyone to call a friend. You had Reva, of course, but she was more of a teacher than a friend. Hollowness fills your being. You’re not sure how long you cry, but when the sun goes down, Reva stays with you. She shifts you to your bed, covering you with a blanket, before taking a seat on the desk chair. As you fall asleep, you conclude that your parents have a valid reason for not showing up this time. Your thoughts of Visiting Day disappear as you contemplate your aloneness, and you slip into your usual dreamless sleep... ...until a pressure erupts from within your chest. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "prologue 3">><</button>></span>

<<if settings.notifications>><<notify 3s>><b>Click the bolded text to change your perception!</b><</notify>><</if>> <<audio chapter1 play>> <a data-passage="CH3.S1" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/yourpov.png" style="max-height: 200px"> </a> <i><b>Present Day: Terran Year 3158 Vidius Year 1572</b></i> There are many ways to be made and unmade in Unitas. Having your bones elongated then snapped into the size of an atom, then elongated again and remade whole, however, has quickly become your least favorite way. Passing through the portal made your joints ache and your muscles tight. You groan, stepping aside to a corner, and you reach your arms up over your head to stretch your locked spine. After hearing a satisfying popping, you step back onto the street. You silently thank Ulfgar for reminding you to take the pre-transit supplements, otherwise this feeling of discomfort could be worse. The streets of Tenebrae are alive and bustling despite how close it is to curfew. Delicious smells from food vendors on the streets waft into your senses, and your stomach tugs with hunger. Deciding it was more important to get to your destination, you walk past the vendors while pulling your sweater closer around you. You run your hand through your $hair_length hair and feel the condensation already gathering in it. Ulfgar mentioned that the weather in <<link "Caligo">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Caligo"); Dialog.wiki("Roughly translated to 'darkness', Caligo is a realm existing outside of the Kiefler galaxy. Caligo is infamous for its medicines and potions because of its access to nightflower ingredients that can only grow in the dark realm."); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>> was usually chilly and wet. The clock sitting in the middle of Tenebrae chimes, commanding your attention. The top of the tower projects a digital display in bright purple, indicating the start of the evening. Glancing up, you see a dark sky void of any stars or clouds, but accompanied by two, overlaid moons, one appearing slightly smaller than the other. The infamous twin moons cast an ethereal glow over Caligo, illuminating the landscape with their bright, silvery light. Taking a moment to observe your surroundings, you become keenly aware of a barely visible, smoky blue mist that hangs in the air, creating an enchanting aura around the city. As folks pass within the haze, their jaws slacken and their eyes glaze over briefly before returning to their usual state. The moonlight makes the blue haze that runs through the small city almost unnoticeable. At least, it would make it so for a <i>normal</i> human. You, however, can easily spot and identify the haze thanks to your prophet training. Unable to use your magic, you put your all into learning everything else, so your training gives you a stronger attention to detail, often catching things that others have not. You do so in <<cycle "$perception" autoselect>> <<option "an observant way, using your heightened senses to make logical deductions." "observant">> <<option "an insightful way, using your empathy to understand what’s being unsaid." "insightful">> <</cycle>> Movement stirs nearby, and your gaze falls on shopkeepers and street vendors closing up for the night, prompting you to quicken your stride, your shoes echoing on the gray cobblestones. You glance at the clock, its bright digital projection spinning suspended in the air. You shake your head, silently cursing the portal guards for holding everyone up. A Shadowelven family was attempting to return to Caligo, and naturally, the guards had to give them a hard time. You scoff, remembering how the guards hassled the family by rumpling all of their belongings and asking them to pay a fee in addition to the portal passes they had to purchase. Two parents and a child made up the family. The child, wearing traditional and old robes, looked mortified as a Caligan Corps guard shook their bags and showcased everything on the table. You happened to glance over to see what the ruckus was about, and saw what little the family actually had before quickly averting your eyes. The child sagged in shame, keeping their gaze to the floor as a small puddle gathered on their raggedy shoes. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S2">><</button>></span>

<<if settings.notifications>><<notify 3s>><b>Character Stats Updated!</b><</notify>><</if>> Your chest tightens at the memory of the encounter as your feet guide you to a small store nestled between two taller buildings; a neon sign displaying 'Arcane Apothecary' in a simple font catches your attention, exactly what you were looking for! Shaking away the thoughts of the Shadowelves, you adjust your backpack and luggage bag, and jog toward the store. Coming to a stop in front of the small storefront, you quickly note the window displaying a variety of plants, books, and potions against a purple backdrop. You admire how it’s decorated in an intricate, circular pattern. The sign says closed, but you try your luck at opening the door. The doorknob gives no resistance as you turn it, and you enter, the clock echoing a different sound now, a gong, as you close the door behind you. The store is modern and clean, you can tell that someone works hard to keep this place in shape. The shelves are lined strategically with various bottles and plants, blocked by a counter that sits in front of them. The mingling scents of earthy herbs and floral fragrances permeate the air around the shelves. Approaching the register, you note the walls match the same shade of shocking purple as the front display, but without the pattern. You don’t miss the way your shoes walk across a clean, wood floor, the way this place somehow feels <i>familiar</i>. <i>It already feels like home…</i> Reaching the counter, you tap the little bell, hoping to announce your arrival. There is a rustle behind the curtains that falls just behind the counter, and after a moment of just standing there, a tall, muscular figure slides a hand between the curtains to pull it out of their way. The soft rustle of the curtain accompanies their approach, blending with the sound of their footsteps. As they get closer to the counter, their ocean blue eyes meet yours and light up with recognition. Their towering figure rushes toward you, creating an almost intimidating presence, if not for the wide smile that adorns their face. The person holds their arms out to you, waiting for permission to hug you. [[step back and eye them]] [[allow them to hug you and return the hug]]

<<set $twylhug to true>> "It’s nice to meet you in person, Ulfgar!" you say, smiling at them. The person’s eyebrows furrow with a tilt of their head as their arms drop, and their expression shifts from warm to curious. "Uh, no, that’s my dad," they narrow their eyes at you, observing you closer. Something in their gaze now is different compared to the way their eyes lit up when they came out to greet you. "He told me you were coming today though." <i>Why are they looking at me like that suddenly?</i> They turn away, glancing at you from over their shoulder as they walk back around the counter and toward the curtain, a hesitance replacing their previous jovial warmth. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S3">><</button>></span>

<<set $twylhug to false>> "Are you Ulfgar?" you say. The person’s eyebrows furrow and their arms drop. A slight grimace appears on their face. "Uh, no, that’s my dad," they narrow their eyes at you, observing you closer. Something in their gaze now is different compared to the way their eyes lit up when they came out to greet you. "He told me you were coming today though." <i>Why are they looking at me like that suddenly?</i> They turn away, glancing at you from over their shoulder as they walk back around the counter and toward the curtain, a coldness replacing their previous jovial warmth. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S3">><</button>></span>

"I’m Twyl," they say, leaning a sturdy shoulder against the frame of the curtain. "I use he/him." He pushes the curtain back and calls out, "Dad, $fname is here!" Someone exclaims from the back, and following a short crash Twyl cringes at, a shorter figure rushes out from behind the curtain, glancing up at Twyl. The difference between Twyl and Ulfgar was striking. Twyl’s towering, sturdy frame stood in sharp relief beside Ulfgar’s shorter, plumper build. Twyl’s buzzed head and square jaw gave him a sharp, clean-cut appearance, while Ulfgar’s flowing shoulder-length dreads and round face exuded a more relaxed, earthy demeanor. Twyl’s tanned skin and gentle cerulean eyes hinted at a mixed heritage, leaving one to wonder about his other parent. The distinct features of a Solarelf were unmistakable, amplified by the faint scent of Solar magic clinging to him, warm and citrusy. In contrast, Ulfgar’s hazel-green eyes and woodsy aroma made his Woodelf lineage impossible to miss. Ulfgar, in your many communications with him, never mentioned a partner. <i>But then again, he hadn’t mentioned that he had a son, either.</i> "Why didn’t you call me sooner!" Ulfgar exclaims, turning to you. "Welcome, $fname!" Unlike his son, Ulfgar stays behind the counter, opting to lean forward on it to get closer to you. "I hope you haven’t been waiting too long?" "No, I just arrived. There was a bit of a holdup at the checkpoint, so I’m late. Apologies," you say, bowing your upper body slightly, "I tried to get here before curfew." "Oh, there is nothing to apologize for. Those checkpoints can take forever for non-citizens, especially if there are Shadowelves traveling through," Ulfgar states, smiling at you as he walks toward another curtain at the back of the store. You frown, again recalling the incident at the portal with the Shadowelves. According to the Sovereign, they aren’t to be trusted, so before leaving or entering Caligo they have to go through extra security measures. Before you can ask more about that, Ulfgar hums. "It’s so good to see you after all these years. You must be tired, come, I will show you to the apartment." He waits by the curtain for you, looking to his son as you walk past him. "Can you please clean up that mess I made in the inventory room and feed the jollyhops?" <<if !$vs>> Twyl’s head falls back, and he lets out a groan, "But they're so gross!" <<elseif $vs>> Twyl’s head falls back, and he lets out a groan, the deep v of his shirt exposing his chest, "But they're so gross!" His eyes catch yours, and a knowing smirk forms on the corner of his lips. You feel the tips of your ears heat and quickly avert your eyes. <</if>> "Twyl," Ulfgar gives him a tight-lipped smile, side eyeing you as if to tell him, ‘not in front of our guest’. You look anywhere but at the two as they continue their awkward exchange. He glances at you then looks at his father with squinted eyes, "Fine, but that means I get tomorrow night off." Ulfgar nods, "As long as it gets done by opening, I have vendors coming tomorrow." <<if $twylhug is true>>Twyl hums in agreement and sends you a charming smile before disappearing to the inventory room, all traces of enthusiasm sapped. <<elseif $twylhug is false>>Twyl hums in agreement and sends you a hesitant smile before disappearing to the inventory room, all traces of enthusiasm sapped.<</if>> Ulfgar gestures for you to enter the curtain, "It’s straight ahead, up the stairs." The hallway is narrow and illuminated. After a short walk you reach the staircase, and notice there is another door under it to the right. Turning to Ulfgar, you say, [["I guess this is me."]] [["Thanks for your help."]]

"Alright," Ulfgar continues, "While you're in Caligo, you’ll need to take a variety of supplements to help your body adjust. You’re used to sunlight and daytime, two things we don’t have, so I don’t want you to suffer here. The supplements will give you the nutrients you’re used to getting from Terra’s environment. If you have any strange side effects, like itchy skin or an irritable bowel, come see me immediately." You carefully listen to him and nod. "Thank you, Ulfgar. I really appreciate all of your guidance and for letting me stay here." He gives a slight shrug, "The apartment was Persephone’s before I even bought this store. I couldn’t bear to rent it out after... Well, after what happened," he clears his throat as your heart momentarily twists as the mention of your mothers, "It’s yours now, for as long as you want it." Hoping to distract yourself from the sudden heartache, you say, "Wait, so you don’t live here?" "I live closer to my botanical garden on the edge of the city," he says, putting his hands on his wide hips. You nod; it makes sense he would want to be closer to his garden. After years of growing as a city, <<link "Tenebrae">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Tenebrae"); Dialog.wiki("Caligo's capital, and only, city. It is small and walkable."); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>> is hardly a place to grow plants. The rest of Caligo was lush with fertile land, making the surrounding area of the city more ideal for botanical efforts. As long as you stayed away from the <<link "Crimson Court">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Crimson Court"); Dialog.wiki("Caligo's nobility, composed of folks with vampiric and demonic lineage."); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>>, of course. "I just ask that you abide by the city rules so we don’t get written up for anything. I left a list of the curfew rules on your coffee table." [["Oh yeah, that’s no problem. I don’t imagine I’ll be throwing any wild parties."]] [["I would never. You can trust me, Ulfgar."]]

<<set $reserved += 1>> "I would never. You can trust me, Ulfgar," you say sincerely, meeting his eyes. He gives you a soft smile, "Of course I trust you, $fname. You’ve always been a good kid. Listen, I left some pain meds in there too. Traveling by portal can be hard on the muscles. Take them before you sleep, and only 2 a day. Have a good night." You smile as he disappears behind the curtains, brows wrinkling slightly as you tilt your head. <i>I’ve always been a good kid?</i> You don’t recall meeting Ulfgar as a child. Maybe he meant that because he knew your parents he knew you would be trustworthy. You try to rationalize it when you turn away to face the stairs. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S5">><</button>></span>

<<set $sociable += 1>> "Oh yeah, that’s no problem. I don’t imagine I’ll be throwing any wild parties," you grin at him widely. He laughs before turning away to walk back to the front, then stopping and turning back to you, "Oh, and I also included some pain meds too; I know traveling through the portal can wreak havoc on your joints. Take them before you sleep, and only 2. Have a good night, $fname!" <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S5">><</button>></span>

When you first started running low on your potions, Reva put you in touch with Ulfgar, who was more than happy to host you. Reva, Ulfgar, and your parents had all known each other during their younger years. Despite his best efforts to provide you with samples of tamping potions from his own collection, none of them yielded the same results as your original mixtures. So instead he sent you some materials to prepare for your visit. He even guided you through the entire process of applying for a portal pass, and translated everything to Common. Feeling grateful for his support, you adjust your bags before heading to the stairs. Climbing up the stairs, you’re reminded about the aches in your body and regret that you can’t move any faster to your bed. Inserting the key and swinging the door open, you enter the apartment, carefully closing the door behind you with your foot. As you enter the apartment, a wave of nostalgia hits you as a spicy, fruity fragrance intertwines with the delicate scent of a sweet flower. The unexpected sweetness of the notes fills the room, surprising you. You’ve never been to Caligo before, so how can this feel <i>familiar</i>? You recall the way the store felt the same, but this was more intense. This smell, this room, this place… Standing still for a moment, you close your eyes and breathe in. After a moment, you recognize the citrus scent as a favorite of your mother Persephone’s, and the floral scent Lyla’s. You frown, knowing that being here would remind you of them but not yet wanting to fall into sorrow’s grip. Pushing those thoughts aside, you decide to take comfort in the familiar smell as you look over the apartment. The living room faces the street, and you can see the building across from you. It is small and cozy, featuring a kitchenette connected to a small living room. Looking down the hall, you see two frosted, sliding doors you assume lead to the bedroom and washroom. The walls shimmer in a muted white color, and you recall Ulfgar informing you that Caligo functions with a blend of magic and technology. The glow comes from the conduits within the walls that provide you with electricity, water, and more. You look around in awe at the beauty of the apartment. You are used to the two elements mixing, but not to this level. The Caligans have seemed to incorporate technology within their everyday lives. The wall behind the black couch displays a virtual aquarium with a variety of glowing and shiny fish. The black couch faces four wooden bookcases on the opposite wall. A square, glass coffee table with silver metal accents sits in front of it. You spy the list of rules Ulfgar left for you sitting on it, as well as a remote. Strolling around the room, you spot a large screen on the wall near the kitchenette and recognize it as a <<link "network panel">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Network Panel"); Dialog.wiki("A sleek device, often implanted within a wall or table. It allows one to access Caligo's technology infrastructure, called the Network, to send or receive messages, log and look up information, and organize information. It is also used as a streaming device or to play games."); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>>. That’s something you definitely have on <<link "Terra">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Terra"); Dialog.wiki("Terra is a planet in the Known universe. It is the only planet with access to Caligo and Elucido, and vice versa. Terra has one sun and one moon."); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>>! Stepping up to it, you pull out your communicator and hold it in front of it. Punching in a few commands, you give permission to the panel to download your data. The panel completes the syncing of your entire device after a few moments of a loading screen. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S6">><</button>></span>

You send a quick note to your mentor on Terra, letting her know you arrived safely. You check the device in your hand to see what time it is on Terra, but it’s already updated to Caligan time, having received data from the grid. Seems that it was a two-way transfer. She responds almost immediately. you: "made it to arcane’s in one piece" reva: "u didnt have trobl @ checkp?" you: "there was a slowdown, but it didn’t take too long" reva: "got there b4 curfew?" you: "yes" reva: "k" Snorting at her brief response, you explore the settings on the panel. You find you can adjust the heat and lighting in the apartment, as well as customize the aquarium and play music. Lowering the lighting even more, you let the room be bathed in a soft, dimmed light. It’s darker now, but you’re able to see just fine thanks to your contacts. You place your backpack by the couch, and with your luggage in one hand and the medicine pouch in the other, you walk into the bedroom. Dropping the items onto the long ottoman sitting at the foot of the bed, you briefly rummage through the medicine pouch. Thinking only of your pain, you take a dose of each of the potions that Ulfgar created for you. Instantly, the aches and pains in your body melt away, and you feel your eyes grow heavy. Kicking off your shoes and stripping down to your underwears, you flop down onto the bed, falling into a deep sleep. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S7">><</button>></span>

A familiar voice calling out your name shakes you. "$fname! $fname, we have to go or we’ll be late for your recital." Lyla stands in the room’s doorway, walking closer to you. She does not look like your mother, her face, and body hazily there but not, yet you know it’s her simply by the comforting sweetness of her perfume. Looking around, you notice that the room has changed. Instead of being at your apartment in Tenebrae, you are back in your childhood room in Aurora Vista. As you look down, you realize the smallness of your hands, and when you raise your gaze, you are thrown off guard to see the towering dressers. Suddenly, a mirror appears in front of you, as if always having been there, and you can see now that you’re not the you of <i> now </i>, but a past version. Younger, and a child from the looks of it. <i>What is this?</i> "Oh, $fname! You look great!" A reply comes from you automatically, "Thanks, m—" <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S8">><</button>></span>

You blink and land onto your feet, having jumped down from the stage. The show is in intermission, but while performing, you didn’t see your parents in the audience. They must have brought you here, so that is odd. <i> But wait—what just happened? Wasn’t I just in my old room? </i> You look up and into the audience, but all of their faces are misshapen, an unrecognizable blur. Backing away, you find a door next to the stage. You pull the door open and step through, the muted lighting of the hallway taking you in. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S9">><</button>></span>

<<if settings.notifications>><<notify 5s>><b>Click the bolded text to continue the story!</b><</notify>><</if>> Your parents are arguing again, and as usual. The hallway of the school is dimly lit and a majority of the lights come from candles that line the walls, hovering in place at your eye level. "Why did it have to be <i>her</i>!? Of all people, you chose he—" Persephone’s words come out as sobs. "I didn’t <i>choose</i> her, it just happened!" Lyla huffs, "If we didn’t have—" Persephone cuts Lyla off, hissing, "You are so lucky we are no longer in Caligo, otherwise the Sovereign would have your head!" Lyla lets out a groan and tries to retort back, but Persephone’s gaze has shifted to you. She interrupts Lyla again, but this time by pushing her out of the way and walking toward you. "Let’s get back to the show, $fname," Persephone says shakily, grabbing your hand and pulling you back toward the auditorium. You look back and see Lyla’s body shape floating away in the other direction. "Where’s mom going?" you ask, your words strained. "She just needs some time away from us," Persephone grumbles. "Is it because of me?" your voice breaks, the word ‘me’ echoing against the walls. Persephone’s body shape goes still before she turns to face you, fully meeting your eyes. [["Of co—"]]

<<if settings.notifications>><<notify 5s>><b>Click the bolded text to choose your drink and snack!</b><</notify>><</if>> As if not wanting the answer, you startle awake, grabbing the pillow to your chest so hard it is almost flattened. Breathing in, you let go of the pillow and roll over onto your back, staring at the ceiling. <i>What kind of dream was that? It was… different from others I’ve had.</i> Your dreams typically consisted of blurs that you forget by the time you wake up, but this one was lucid, and lingered before fading away, scratching the back of your head. Frowning, you get up to rehydrate, something Ulfgar emphasized heavily in his e-letters to you. Caligo’s atmosphere was drier than usual, a peculiar requirement for growing nightflowers. Sliding your feet into the kitchenette, you notice that there is a drink cart to the left of the counter and sink against the wall. Walking past the fridge to get to it, you decide to take some <<cycle "$drink1" autoselect>> <<option "water." "water">> <<option "fruit juice." "fruit juice">> <<option "tea." "tea">> <</cycle>> Holding your drink in one hand, you scan the basket on the counter and grab a <<cycle "$snack1" autoselect>> <<option "fruit." "fruit">> <<option "protein bar." "protein bar">> <<option "cookie." "cookie">> <<option "sweet bun." "sweet bun">> <</cycle>> You walk over to the window on the other side of the living room, eating your snack and sipping your beverage. Tenebrae looks darker without the street lamps on. The city enforces a strict curfew, starting in the evening and throughout the night. Well, for everyone but those with vampiric and demonic lineage, who can roam Caligo freely and at whatever time they wish. You spot a few guards of the Caligan Corps patrolling down the street. The bluish haze that seemed ever present and fluid outside was much clearer now in the pure moonlight, undisrupted by the artificial light from the lamp posts. There’s something about it that compels your attention... After watching folks roam around for a while, you decide to turn out the lights in the apartment completely and head back to bed after finishing your snack. Hopefully, now that you are hydrated, no more weird dreams will harass you. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S10">><</button>></span>

A gentle chirping from outside rouses you from a deep rest. The clocktower is going off, letting everyone know that it is the start of a new day. You attempt to open your eyes, but the dryness of them makes them almost uncooperative. Finally, forcing your eyes open, you blink, and your contacts slip out of your eyes and disintegrate on your face. "Shit!" you curse, quickly getting up but tripping over your own feet. The only light afforded to you is whatever streaks of moonlight and streetlamp peaks through the blinds. You can’t see—it’s too dark! Then you remember: <i> voice command! </i> "N-network," you say hesitantly, feeling silly and unsure if there would even be a response. A ping lets you know that something is listening. A soft and slightly robotic voice speaks, "I’d prefer it if you called me Callum." You jump slightly, not expecting an actual response! This must be what Ulfgar referred to as the ‘smart Network’. Something that the <<link "CRD">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Caligan Research Division"); Dialog.wiki("The CRD is responsible for all of Caligo's medical and technological advancements."); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>> rolled out to Caligans not long ago. "Sure, that’s no problem," you say hesitantly, "Can you help me with something, Callum?" "Define your query," Callum replies. "Please turn the lights on," you say. The room floods with light, and you snap your eyes shut, not realizing how painful that would be after leaving in the expired contacts all night. "Callum, lower the lights, they’re too painful!" "Apologies, $fname," Callum responds, somehow sounding apologetic. "I should have dimmed them before turning them on." As soon as the light is dimmed, you crack your eyes slightly to see that they are no longer unbearable. Squinting, you locate the pouch Ulfgar gave you and feel around for the contacts. Plopping them in, you blink a few times, relishing the feeling of rehydration. Looking inside the bag, you fish out a small bottle filled with liquid, its top curved into a dropper. You drop the medicine into your eyes, blinking and sighing in relief. The Network makes another ping, and before you can ask what it was, Callum speaks. "I have adjusted your lighting to dim until you properly acclimate to Caligo’s environment. Please let me know if the temperature is okay for you. I have set it to the standard room temperature in Aurora Vista." Ulfgar had mentioned that the network could help you adjust to Caligo, but didn’t really explain how. The smart Network—Callum—already knew your name. "The temperature is okay. How do you know my name, and where I’m from?" You ask, eyes still closed and allowing the medicine to rehydrate them. It takes a moment to reply; you are about to restate your query when it says, "Ulfgar briefed me on your arrival." Feeling unsure of this foreign technology, you opt to trust Ulfgar. He put a tremendous amount of effort into preparing for your stay, even programming the Network to cater to you. You make a mental note to give him a Terran gesture of gratitude later. Feeling relieved and your $eye_color eyes re-adjusted to the soft blue haze that permeates your apartment, you head into the bathroom to prepare for the day. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S11">><</button>></span>

Exiting Arcane’s after a brief conversation with Ulfgar and Twyl, you begin your walk toward the clocktower. The activity is liveliest closer to the middle of the city, compared to where Arcane stands on the corner of the street. As you approach the clocktower, the stores bustle with the bodies of Tenebrae’s citizens. Vendors line the sidewalks and some have lines of folks waiting to order that wrap around the corners. You watch as the workers speedily move to get each order out and keep the line moving. Tenebrae is walkable, and despite the 40 minutes it took you to get from the portal to Arcane’s, you find this exciting. The Southern territories were huge and the only way to travel to some places was via motor vehicle, boat, or flying, a skill your unstable core denies you. As a courier, your primary mode of transportation was the battered scooter the Institute allowed you to use. For particularly long commutes, the Institute would reimburse you for train tickets and a few nights’ stay at an inn. Your stomach growls in protest at skipping both your dinner and first meal of the day. You pat your stomach in an attempt to appease it, deciding to approach one of the vendors. Eager to try Caligan food, you approach [[the vendor peeling the skin off of brown, round vegetables]] [[the vendor kneading dough and cutting it into rectangles]] [[the vendor coating a yellow cob in a variety of spices]]

Walking up to the vendor, who was now free after helping another customer, you ask curiously, "What do you have for sale?" They look up and smile at you, their eyes crinkling at the corners, revealing their age. Their hair is white as snow and wrapped up within a hairnet—you recognize them as a Siren based on their mouthful of sharp teeth. But didn’t Sirens usually live on Terra? "Today I’m making patatas! Would you like a serving? It would be three emmies," A Terran accent rolls off their tongue as they address you in Common. They look at you expectantly, and something about this vendor’s gaze makes your feet shift. You aren’t sure if it’s the way their eyes glow slightly or how sharp their teeth are. To avoid their wide smile, you look over the vendor’s setup. You see a photo on the side of their cart displaying a variety of their recipes, including the fried and sauced version of whatever pale vegetable they were frying. "What’s patatas?" you ask, switching to Terran with a curious tone. The vendor’s smile never leaves, and it seems they never blink as well. "It’s a root vegetable, it grows commonly around here," they reply in Terran, their accent rough from lack of use. They tilt their head to the opposite side, repeating the same question in the same tone, "Would you like a serving?" "Yes, please," you clasp your hands behind you, looking at them once more. They nod once, the smile still not leaving their face. Your stomach rumbles in anticipation as you watch the vendor fill up a disposable bowl with two sections. They fill up one section with a generous scoop of the fried vegetable, then squeeze a white liquid onto it, and fill the other section with a red sauce. They wrap a bag around the bowl, allowing the top to sit free and stick a half fork half spoon utensil inside of the patatas. "Seven emmies, please!" You exchange your emmies for the bowl, the savory smell of the food floating gently into your nostrils. "I just made a fresh pot of sauce, too! Enjoy!" You smile cautiously at them and give thanks before walking away. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S12">><</button>></span>

You wait patiently for the vendor to wrap up helping a customer before approaching. The vendor stands behind their cart, looking at you with anticipation. You clear your throat, not expecting the lack of greeting or recognition. You look at the vendor and then over their cart, seeing cobs of all sizes and shapes in containers, and a lineup of toppings. There is a poster board next to the vendor displaying a menu—but unfortunately, your Latin isn’t good enough to understand it. The vendor has not moved a centimeter in the time you stood here, and a line forms behind you. You glance over your shoulder to see other folks getting impatient with you; a particularly unfriendly looking Moonelf throwing the deadly glares of them all. Feeling pressured, you nervously point to a random menu item and say, "I’ll have that." They survey their prep station before opting for two petite cobs and skillfully arrange them in a container. Though the vendor’s face was eerily devoid of expression, their eyes were intense as they carefully rub a stick on the cobs, evenly spreading the velvety liquid coating. After that, they add two types of seasoning powders and generously drizzle on a green sauce. The vendor closes the lid and blinks at you, waiting. Shyly, you take the container from them, apologizing for your limited Latin skills. They raise their hands, showing that they only have six fingers in total. As the customers behind you grumble, the Moonelf now crossing their arms and tapping their foot, you hand the vendor six emmies and hurry away. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S12">><</button>></span>

You join the line for the flatbread vendor, standing behind a rather tall dryad. He looks over his shoulder at you, giving you a nod of acknowledgement. You give a tight smile before he turns his head back around. You note how despite him slouching, he still towers over you. Branches and leaves in dark purples and browns lace down his wooden body. On the center of his head sprouted a tiny, pink flower. You chuckled softly at its cuteness when the dryad steps forward and places his order. You step forward when he receives his order, and as he walks past you, he leers, "I heard that." Before you can respond, the vendor beckons you over. You look back at the dryad but he has already disappeared in the crowd. Sighing, you walk toward the vendor. They wipe sweat dripping off of their bald head onto their arm, and switch out their gloves. "What kind of flatbread is this?" you ask them in Common. You look over the cart, seeing various sauces, toppings, and types of dough. On the front of the cart is an image of flatbreads with various sauces and toppings. "I have a variety, which would you like?" The vendor says in a strong Latin accent, a wide grin revealing two sharp fangs. You look over their cart as the smell of what they’re frying wafts into your nose. Your stomach cries out and you hum with indecision, "Just give me whatever’s popular around here." The vendor swiftly scoops up a flatbread covered in melted cheese and leafy greens, and covers it sparsely with a white sauce. They wrap it in a foil before thrusting it in your direction. "Eight emmies, and you can grab a drink." Your eyes sparkle as you take the generously-sized flatbread from them, and slide the bills onto their cart. You snatch the first drink you see from the cooler beside them and scurry down the block with excitement. The vendor watches you with a curious smile as they serve the next guest. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S12">><</button>></span>

When you are a few blocks down, you look over your shoulder to see that the vendor has already moved on to another customer. Your unease slips away as you take a bite of your food, enjoying the unique flavors that blend in your mouth. You find an area with tables and chairs, and settle down at an empty table. You watch and marvel at how, like Terra, Caligo also has a diverse range of life forms as folks pass by. Dryads, gargoyles, fairies, elves, vampires, and even some humans litter the streets, and those are the folks you can recognize. Satisfied from your meal, you check the clock and note that it’s now mid afternoon. Disposing of the rest of your food and the container, you walk toward one of the clothing stores that caught your eye. Your current ensemble screams Terran—the earthy tones of your rugged outfit contrasts with the dark elegance of the Caligan citizens’. Though you see plenty of foreign folks, you prefer to immerse yourself in Caligan culture, and that means eating Caligan food and getting new clothes. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S13">><</button>></span>

<<if settings.notifications>><<notify 3s>><b>Click the bolded text to select an outfit!</b><</notify>><</if>> Entering the empty store, a fairy flying gracefully around the store with a magazine in hand greets you. One of her hands waves you in as the other puts the magazine onto the store counter. She wears a name tag that reads ‘Lakrissa’. "Let me know what you need, doll," Lakrissa says in a hoarse voice, floating behind the counter. Her magenta wings shimmer as they wrap around her. "Any outfit on a mannequin is discounted." The shopkeeper flips through her magazine, occasionally circling things with a feathered pen. A short, glass quellazaire appears between her fingers and she takes a long drag of whatever is attached to it, the herby smell, not unpleasant, permeating the store. You walk around the store, looking at the outfits on the mannequins. There are a few scattered around the store, high on the walls. All of their styles come in various blacks, deep blues, rich purples, and the occasional gem green. You spy some accents with lighter colors, but for the most part everything has a noir undertone. One style in particular catches your eye, <<cycle "$clothes" autoselect>> <<option "a frilly shirt under a leather corset paired with leather pants and lace up boots" "outfit 1">> <<option "an oversized hoodie over ripped fishnets and platform combat boots" "outfit 2">> <<option "a leather jacket over a graphic t-shirt and a pair of heavy cargo pants with sneakers" "outfit 3">> <<option "a turtleneck sweater under a trench coat with slacks and dress shoes" "outfit 4">> <<option "a velvet bodysuit with tights under a floor length hooded cloak and knee high boots" "outfit 5">> <</cycle>> You walk back around to the shopkeeper and, as if she was waiting for you, she swiftly floats to your side. "What caught your eye?" she asks kindly, bobbing in place with her hands on her hips. The herbal smell clings to her stylish robes and causes your nostrils to flare slightly at the smokiness. "That one, please," You point to the style that you found earlier. She nods, flies over to the mannequin, and snaps her fingers. The mannequin undresses itself and folds the clothes, handing the outfit to Lakrissa. The sudden movement of the mannequin causes you to startle, but it’s nothing you haven’t seen in Terran stores. Magically imbued mannequins was child’s play for the average<<link "Core User">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Core Utilization"); Dialog.wiki("Those with the ability to harness the energy of their Core are referred to as Core Users."); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>> Lakrissa floats down to her counter, where she settles as she waits for you to walk to her. "It’s discounted so it’s twenty emmies, doll," she rasps out, already placing the ensemble of clothing in a box and a bag. She fixes her eyes on you, waiting. You hand her the exact bills she requested for the clothes and pick up the bag. After your exchange, [[you make an attempt to engage in small talk]] [[you leave]]

<<if settings.notifications>><<notify 3s>><b>Character Stats Updated!</b><</notify>><</if>> <<set $sociable += 1>> You open your mouth to speak again, but Lakrissa is already absorbed in her magazine. You mutter a thanks before exiting the store and stepping back onto the street. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S14">><</button>></span>

<<if settings.notifications>><<notify 3s>><b>Character Stats Updated!</b><</notify>><</if>> <<set $reserved += 1>> You mutter a thanks before exiting the store and stepping back onto the street. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S14">><</button>></span>

Looking around, you note you can still see the clocktower from your location, and that it’s approaching early evening. You never noticed how fast time passed in Caligo. You decide to walk around more before the clocktower chimes to show curfew. Heading down another street, you find this one is quieter despite its proximity to the clocktower. Looking around, most of the buildings look residential, and you realize you’ve stumbled upon a row of townhouses. They all look the same: rows of dark gray houses with the same doors, roofs, and staircases. A few people cross the street or enter their homes, but mostly it’s empty. A cobblestone path that curves divides the two rows of houses, not unlike the other areas of Tenebrae. You feel a compelling need to walk down this street. It looks—and feels—familiar somehow. Like a tiny thread being pulled at the back of your skull. Strolling down the street, a sharp pain invades your head. Your vision blurs, and you wonder if you pushed yourself too hard today. Since you’ve been portioning your medicine, your withdrawal effects have gotten worse. You thought you could get your refill before it got unbeara— You sway forward, dropping your bag and clutching your head. As your body makes contact with another’s, their hands quickly grasp your shoulders to provide support. They say something to you but you can’t make it out; it sounds muffled and far away. Instead of loosening their grip on your shoulders, they steer you towards a staircase and gently seat you. Whoever it is must be kind, as they place your bag next to you. You take a few deep breaths and try to center yourself. After a moment, you blink to clear up your vision. Turning your head, you see an average height figure levitating in front of you. Their feet, instead of hanging from their body in a line like most folks who levitate, curl upwards behind them. They wear an ensemble of black clothes; jeans, a corset, and heeled boots, covered by an even blacker cloak that shimmers lemony yellow in when it hits the moonlight. Their face, concealed by their hood, peers down at you with inquisitive amber eyes. They tilt their head, the jewelry they wear on their nose shining slightly in the moonlight. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S15">><</button>></span>

"You good?" The figure asks in a soft, feminine voice. You nod, surprised by the way their espresso skin almost glitters when it hits the moonlight. You attempt to stand only to be assaulted by the world spinning, and quickly sit down again. "Maybe you should take a minute," the person says, taking a seat next to you. "What’s wrong with you?" You eye them cautiously and they raise a well-groomed eyebrow, "What, can’t you talk?" [["I can talk and I’m fine."]] [["Sorry, I’m just feeling out of it."]]

<<set $secretive += 1>> "Nothing," you say dismissively, "I just ate something weird." The person looks at you with a brow raised and their eyes narrowed, “Right. Because Caligan food can make people sick,” they say, clearly not believing you, as they roll their eyes. Their head turns to scan the street, slowly losing interest in you. “Who are you anyways? Do you live around here?” You speak up, deciding to avert the conversation away from yourself. They pause and turn to you almost dramatically, emphasized by how high their eyebrows are, “You really aren’t from around here, huh?” they say in genuine amusement. You frown, "No, but what does that hav—" They interrupt you before you can finish by floating up abruptly. They smirk slyly, a fang poking out, as they glide backwards. “Why ruin the mystery? Until we meet again, $fname.” <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S16">><</button>></span>

<<set $candid += 1>> "I’m experiencing withdrawal effects from a medicine I take," you say softly, seeing no harm in telling them. They made sure you were okay and didn’t fall onto the ground, after all. If they wanted to hurt you they would have by now, and would have been successful, considering your current state. "I’m just running low on a medicine I usually take. One of the withdrawal effects is vertigo." Your companion nods, "So you came here for a refill?" "Yeah. I just need to figure out where to go for it." "You don’t know where you’re getting your medicine from?" they ask, their brow furrowing. "Uh, it’s a long story. What’s your name?" you attempt to divert the conversation from your slip up. You're alot more tired than you thought. They smile at you softly as they float up and move toward the street, still facing you. "You’ll find out soon. We’ll be seeing each other again, $fname." <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH1.S16">><</button>></span>

<<audio chapter1 fadeout>> <<if settings.notifications>><<notify 3s>><b>Character Stats Updated!</b><</notify>><</if>> Before you can react, they fade into the shadow of the alley. You blink your eyes rapidly before a small bird flies out from within it, disappearing in the blackness of the sky. You sit for a few more moments, replaying the events in your head. How did they know your name? And without even giving you theirs, too. You sigh, and the clocktower chimes, showing that evening is beginning. Eager to get back home before the curfew, you grab your bag and rise gingerly to avoid irritating your head. On the walk home, you can’t help but think of the strange encounters with the vendor and the vampire. You hope that those strange interactions were not a foreshadowing of your remaining time in Caligo. When you get back to Arcane’s, you find the store empty with a note and key from Ulfgar to lock up the front. You do so just as the final chime rings throughout Tenebrae. As you sleep, your dreams flicker and dissolve into hazy fragments of your parents, your odd encounter with the vendor, and the mysterious vampire that helped you. <span class="next"><<button "Next Chapter" "CH2.S0">><</button>></span>

<<set $chapter to "chapter two">> <div style="text-align: center;"> <a data-passage="CH2.S1" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/ch2.s0.png" style="max-height: 600px"> </a> </div>

<<if settings.notifications>><<notify 10s>><b>[[the compendium]] has been unlocked!</b><</notify>><</if>> <i><b>Terran Year 3158</b></i> "—the irresponsibility of your actions!" Headmaster Jolour screeches, the veins in his thick neck pulsing as slams his fists on his desk. He brings up a finger, pointing between you and your mentor. "This is the fourth time. You have to fix this." "Headmaster, you cannot expec—" "I can expect anything! Because I am in charge!" he lets out another bellow, and his chest heaves with exasperation, "You brought this child here and I have yet to see any improvement. It has been 8 years, Reva!" Reva is silent at this before speaking carefully, in a more serious tone that you’re starting to get acclimated to. "That is true. However, nothing will change until the medicine is refilled. I have helped arrange all the details." How Reva manages to stay calm in the face of Headmaster Jolour's rage is beyond your understanding. You're not sure if you want to yell back or cry. None of this was your fault, but it was your body that did the damage. "And just how long will that take?" he growls, crossing his arms over his chest. Reva glances at you and when you nod, she continues, "It should not take more than a month. But we will apply for longer if necessary." "You should pray to the Ascended that it does not," Headmaster Jolour sits down, the chair making a noise that you’re sure would be one of dread if it was sentient, "Until then, have Metalia take over the Southern routes." As you hold back a sneer at the mention of Metalia, Reva nods, and steps back to be at your side. Headmaster Jolour turns to you with a look balancing pity and fury, "Do not return until you have procured your medicine, or better yet, a cure. Now get out, the sight of you is not good for my heart." You don’t need to be told twice, your legs are already carrying you out the door with haste, Reva on your heels. For the Headmaster to even suggest a cure was a slap in the face, but you were determined to return better than before, if only to one up Metalia. After all, you would have no where to go if you couldn't tamp your <<link "Core">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Core"); Dialog.wiki("Every individual in Unitas is born with a magical core, which is defined by class and type."); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>>. <span class="next"><<button "Create Your Character" "portal pass start">><</button>></span>

<div style="text-align: center;"> You have not unlocked this content. <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

<<if not hasVisited("CH1.S1")>>\ Locked <<elseif hasVisited("CH1.S1")>>Roughly translated to 'darkness', Caligo is a realm located outside the known universe, existing beyond the reach of ordinary space and time. The realm is renowned for its powerful medicines and potions, crafted with rare nightflower ingredients that thrive only in the dark. Natives of Caligo have adapted to the realm’s eternal night, but newcomers and visitors need specialized contacts or medicine to preserve their normal vision. The Caligans follow the Caligan calendar, where years are counted by the duration of a Sovereignty's reign. The current year is 1572 of the Vidius' rule. Tenebrae is the capital city of Caligo, hosting the Caligan School of Magic and Botany in the north and the Crimson Court in the south. The Caligan School of Magic and Botany teaches dark magic, botanical magic, and features a large greenhouse where students study the magical effects of nightflowers. Medicine, potions, poisons, glamorous and more are created at the greenhouse. Insomnium and Umbra are East of Tenebrae, separated by a large river that runs through the realm.<</if>> <<if not hasVisited("CH2.S16")>>\ Locked <<elseif hasVisited("CH2.S16")>>It is widely accepted that Caligo was created by the Archangels.<</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

<<if not hasVisited("CH1.S1")>>\ Locked <<elseif hasVisited("CH1.S1")>> Terra exists as a planet located in the Kiefler galaxy. It has one massive sun and four moons, which causes unpredictable tidals. Terrans utilize magic to control their tides. Terra is magic-driven, making it almost unecessary explore technological advancements. It is the only planet with access to Caligo and Elucido, and vice versa. <</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

<<if not hasVisited("CH1.S1")>>\ Locked <<elseif hasVisited("CH1.S1")>>Roughly translated to 'light', Elucido is a realm located outside the known universe, existing beyond the reach of ordinary space and time. The Elucidans live in a mountainous and rugged region, with homes built directly into the cliffs and slopes. Magic serves as the primary means of transportation, and, like Caligo, they integrate magic with technology in daily life. The realm is in eternal dayness, so Elucidan use a dome system to create an artificial day and night cycle. They follow the Terran calendar and are closely allied Terra. <</if>> <<if not hasVisited("CH2.S15")>>\ Locked <<elseif hasVisited("CH2.S15")>>It is widely accepted that Elucido was gifted to The Counsciousness when it was born (time immemorial) by the Archangels.<</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

<<if not hasVisited("prologue 3")>>\ "Locked" <<elseif hasVisited("prologue 3")>>There are two types of Prophets: Ascended Prophets—those chosen to join the Consciousness upon death—and Living Prophets, who retell the teachings of the Ascended. The Prophethood is composed entirely of Living Prophets. Living Prophets dedicate much of their lives to learning the "Word" of their chosen Ascended Prophet. They then commit themselves to spreading these teachings to new trainees and other worshippers, fostering a community centered around their object of worship.<</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

<<if not hasVisited("prologue 3")>>\ "Locked" <<elseif hasVisited("prologue 3")>>Ascended Prophets are folks who have Ascended to Otherworldliness. They abandoned their real bodies to exist as part of an infinite Consciousness, taking up visceral forms as needed. These beings are revered as gods. They are singular and plural at once and referred to as the Consciousness. It's unknown how many Ascended there are at this point. The names of the first Ascendeds are lost to time immemorial.<</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

<<if not hasVisited("CH1.S1")>>\ "Locked" <<elseif hasVisited("CH1.S1")>>Inferna is an independent realm composed of five distinct layers, collectively known as Hedon. Layers three through five—Reinga, Narak, and Gehenna—are inhabited by demons, vampires, and various dark creatures. These layers operate under a unified government system known as the Hedonistic Matriarchy. The Infernals follow the Caligan calendar, where years are counted by the duration of a Sovereignty's reign. The current year is 1572 of the Vidius' rule.<</if>> <<if not hasVisited("CH2.S")>>\ "Locked" <<elseif hasVisited("CH2.S")>> Layers one and two, Si'ool and Ifrinn, are the domains of the Archangels. According to legend, the Archangels created the first dark creatures in Si'ool before sending them to Caligo.<</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

<a data-passage="Universe & Inhabitants" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/universe.png" style="max-height: 60px"> </a> <<if not hasVisited("CH1.S1")>>\ [[Locked]] <<elseif hasVisited("CH1.S1")>>\ [[Terra]] <</if>> <<if not hasVisited("CH2.S1")>>\ [[Locked]] <<elseif hasVisited("CH2.S1")>>\ [[Elucido]] <</if>> <<if not hasVisited("CH1.S1")>>\ [[Locked]] <<elseif hasVisited("CH1.S1")>>\ [[Caligo]] <</if>> <<if not hasVisited("CH2.S1")>>\ [[Locked]] <<elseif hasVisited("CH2.S1")>>\ [[Inferna]] <</if>> <a data-passage="Universe & Inhabitants" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/inhabitants.png" style="max-height: 60px"> </a> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

<a data-passage="History & Politics" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/history.png" style="max-height: 60px"> </a> <<if not hasVisited("CH2.S16")>>\ [[Locked]] <<elseif hasVisited("CH2.S16")>>\ [[The Balancing]] <</if>> <<if not hasVisited("TO CODE")>>\ [[Locked]] <<elseif hasVisited("TO CODE")>>\ [[The Invasion of the East]] <</if>> <a data-passage="History & Politics" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/politics.png" style="max-height: 60px"> </a> <<if not hasVisited("TO CODE")>>\ [[Locked]] <<elseif hasVisited("TO CODE")>>\ [[The Sovereignty]] <</if>> <<if not hasVisited("TO CODE")>>\ [[Locked]] <<elseif hasVisited("TO CODE")>>\ [[The Hedonian Matriarchy]] <</if>> <<if not hasVisited("TO CODE")>>\ [[Locked]] <<elseif hasVisited("TO CODE")>>\ [[The Terran Council]] <</if>> <<if not hasVisited("TO CODE")>>\ [[Locked]] <<elseif hasVisited("TO CODE")>>\ [[The Solar Monarchy]] <</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

<a data-passage="Magic & Mysticism" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/magic.png" style="max-height: 60px"> </a> <<if not hasVisited("prologue 3")>>\ [[Locked]] <<elseif hasVisited("prologue 3")>>\ [[Core]] <</if>> <<if not hasVisited("prologue 3")>>\ [[Locked]] <<elseif hasVisited("prologue 3")>>\ [[Core Classes]] <</if>> <<if not hasVisited("prologue 3")>>\ [[Locked]] <<elseif hasVisited("prologue 3")>>\ [[Core Types]] <</if>> <a data-passage="Magic & Mysticism" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/mysticism.png" style="max-height: 60px"> </a> <<if not hasVisited("prologue 3")>>\ [[Locked]] <<elseif hasVisited("prologue 3")>>\ [[The Consciousness]] <</if>> <<if not hasVisited("prologue 3")>>\ [[Locked]] <<elseif hasVisited("prologue 3")>>\ [[Prophethood]] <</if>> <<if not hasVisited("prologue 3")>>\ [[Locked]] <<elseif hasVisited("prologue 3")>>\ [[Ascended]] <</if>> <<if not hasVisited("CH2.S16")>>\ [[Locked]] <<elseif hasVisited("CH2.S16")>>\ [[Archangels]] <</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

<<if not hasVisited("prologue 3")>>\ "Locked" <<elseif hasVisited("prologue 3")>> !!Primordial Folks with a Primordial Core are able to harness the raw power of their element. They may also have heightened resistance to elemental damage and an instinctual understanding of how to interact with their chosen element in various environments. Humans are all born with Primordial Cores and hone their elemental connection with training. !!Requiem Folks with a Requiem Core have the unique ability to evolve and adapt in response to their environment or situation. Requiem Core users possess a fluid and ever-changing nature, allowing them to shift between different forms or states of being with ease. The shape and smell of their core tends to change as a result, unlike other core types where it remains the same. !!Nexus A Nexus Core serves as a conduit for connecting with different planes of existence, bridging the gap between all planes of existence. Users of a Nexus Core can access and channel the unique energies of different planes of existence, allowing them to teleport to, summon forward, or manipulate them. They may also have the ability to perceive and interact with beings or phenomena that exist beyond the confines of the physical dimensions. !!Divine Those born with a Divine core are the descendants of Divine beings. Divine cores are shaped as the user grows older, making it one of the rarest kinds of core. The user’s magical abilities are unique to the individual and a product of whatever shape their core takes, but all Divine core users have the ability to create life. <</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

<<if not hasVisited("prologue 3")>>\ "Locked" <<elseif hasVisited("prologue 3")>> !!Typical <b>Chaos</b> Raw, untamed magical energy that is often unpredictable. <b>Umbra</b> Shadow or darkness-based abilities. <b>Pyro</b> Fire-based abilities. <b>Verdant</b> Earth or plant-based abilities. <b>Lunar</b> Moon and celestial-based abilities. <b>Solar</b> Sun, celestial, and light-based abilities. <b>Human</b> A malleable core type that is strengthened by elemental training. !!Atypical <b>Fae</b> Fae magic is malleable, allowing its users to use any element. <</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

<<if not hasVisited("CH2.S16")>>\ "Locked" <<elseif hasVisited("CH2.S16")>>These angelic beings have celestial powers of darkness, shadow, and night, and are said to be the creators of the dark realm. It is widely believed that the Archangels used their divine power of creation to make Caligo and Elucido. As the realms progressed, the Archangels became more secluded because they believed they were no longer needed. Not much is known about them other than the fact that they live incredibly long lives, and that Darkspawns have one Archangel ancestor and one non-Archangel ancestor.<</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

<<if not hasVisited("CH2.S16")>>\ "Locked" <<elseif hasVisited("CH2.S16")>>A cosmic-level event where the Archangels revoked the gift of immortality from all creatures. The Archangels then locked themselves away.<</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

<<if not hasVisited("PASSAGE NAME")>>\ "Locked" <<elseif hasVisited("PASSAGE NAME")>>Locked<</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

<<if not hasVisited("CH2.S7")>>\ "Locked" <<elseif hasVisited("CH2.S7")>> The Sovereign rules the entirety of Caligo, a family who seized control of Insomnium and Umbra several centuries ago. They are pureblood vampires, descended from the first vampires created by the Archangels. The current ruling family is the Vidius. The Vidius family consists of Emilia Vidius and her three Consorts—Zuri, Miguel, and Kunjal. Together, they have nine children, one of whom has been chosen as the Successor.<</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

<<if not hasVisited("PASSAGE NAME")>>\ "Locked" <<elseif hasVisited("PASSAGE NAME")>>Locked<</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

<<audio titlesong fadeout>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <a data-passage="prologue" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/titlequote.png" style="max-height: 600px"> </a> </div>

Set custom pronouns below: she/he/they: <<textbox "$mc_they" "they">> him/her/them: <<textbox "$mc_them" "them">> his/her/their: <<textbox "$mc_their" "their">> his/hers/theirs: <<textbox "$mc_theirs" "theirs">> himself/herself/themself: <<textbox "$mc_themself" "themself">> Plural? (is/are) Yes <<radiobutton "$mc_plural" true checked>> No <<radiobutton "$mc_plural" false>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<link "Set Custom Pronouns" "final pronoun confirmation">><</link>> <<link "Back to Pronoun Selection Page" "pronoun selection page">><</link>> </div>

How do folks refer to you? <<link "they/them." "pronoun confirmation">><<set $mc_they to "they">><<set $mc_them to "them">><<set $mc_their to "their">><<set $mc_theirs to "theirs">><<set $mc_themself to "themself">><<set $mc_plural to true>><</link>> <<link "she/her." "pronoun confirmation">><<set $mc_they to "she">><<set $mc_them to "her">><<set $mc_their to "her">><<set $mc_theirs to "hers">><<set $mc_themself to "herself">><<set $mc_plural to false>><</link>> <<link "he/him." "pronoun confirmation">><<set $mc_they to "he">><<set $mc_them to "him">><<set $mc_their to "his">><<set $mc_theirs to "his">><<set $mc_themself to "himself">><<set $mc_plural to false>><</link>> <<link "xe/xem." "pronoun confirmation">><<set $mc_they to "xe">><<set $mc_them to "xem">><<set $mc_their to "xyr">><<set $mc_theirs to "xyrs">><<set $mc_themself to "xemself">><<set $mc_plural to false>><</link>> <<link "I go by something else..." "custom pronouns">><</link>>

Your pronouns are $mc_they, $mc_them, $mc_their, $mc_theirs, and $mc_themself, and plurality is $mc_plural. Is that correct? <div style="text-align: center;"> <<link "Yes" "more pronouns">><</link>> <<link "No" "final pronoun confirmation">><</link>> </div>

Would you like to add another? <<gender $mc_they $mc_them $mc_their $mc_theirs $mc_themself $mc_plural>> Current pronouns: $arr_they <div style="text-align: center;"> <<link "Yes" "pronoun selection page">><</link>> <<link "No" "final pronoun confirmation">><</link>> </div>

This is the final pronoun confirmation page. Your pronouns will be set to ?mcThey $mc_is / ?mcthey $mc_is / ?mcThey $mc_is. Are you ready to complete your character? <div style="text-align: center;"> <<link "Yes" "portal pass confirmation page 1">><</link>> <<link "No" "pronoun selection page">><</link>> </div>

<<if not hasVisited("prologue 1")>>\ "Locked" <<elseif hasVisited("prologue 1")>>Every individual in Unitas is born with a magical core, which is defined by class and type. The strength, shape, and smell of a Core is dependant on the user. See Core Type and Core Class for more details.<</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

*/compendium content*/ <<if not hasVisited("PASSAGE NAME")>>\ "Locked" <<elseif hasVisited("PASSAGE NAME")>>ENTRY HERE<</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div> */dialog for definitions*/ <<link "PASSAGE">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("NAME OF DIALOG"); Dialog.wiki("ENTRY HERE"); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>> */images*/ <div style="text-align: center;"> <a data-passage="CH2.S1" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/ch2.s0.png" style="max-height: 600px"> </a> </div> */relationship stats*/ god why tf is this so hard to figure out - reminder - have G help, looks like math Twyl: <meter id="twylMeter" min="0" max="100" value="$twyl_stat"></meter> <<if $relationship_version === "romance">> <<if $twyl_stat <= 5>>Twyl is curious about you.<<elseif $twyl_stat <= 25>>Twyl feels protective of you.<<elseif $twyl_stat <= 50>>Twyl is falling for you.<<elseif $twyl_stat <= 75>>Twyl is deeply committed to you.<<else>>Twyl is incredibly devoted to you.<</if>> <<elseif $relationship_version === "friendship">> <<if $twyl_stat <= 5>>Twyl is curious about you.<<elseif $twyl_stat <= 25>>Twyl is supportive and wants to be your friend.<<elseif $twyl_stat <= 50>>Twyl values your friendship.<<elseif $twyl_stat <= 75>>Twyl considers you a close friend.<<else>>Twyl is your best friend and considers you part of his family.<</if>> <</if>> Xander: <meter id="xanderMeter" min="0" max="100" value="$xander_stat"></meter> Pantella: <meter id="pantellaMeter" min="0" max="100" value="$pantella_stat"></meter> */for version selection*/ <<if !$vs>> FRIENDSHIP <<elseif $vs>> ROMANCE <</if>>

<a data-passage="CH3.S1" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/yourpov.png" style="max-height: 200px"> </a> <<audio chapter2 play>> You take your time getting ready the next morning, pulling on your new clothes and fixing your hair in a style you saw others doing. You force yourself to eat a morning meal, dread sitting like an anchor at the bottom of your stomach. When you started running out of your medicine, you searched through the modest items your parents left behind for any hint of where to get a refill. The last thing you expected was a message device. Had you been aware of it, you would have checked the inheritance earlier. But, of course, your parents would want you to try to figure this out alone. You didn’t expect anything more from them. You had always taken care of yourself, after all. Along with the message device, you inherited some of Lyla’s books, a necklace from Persephone, and a small, locked journal. You didn’t find a key with the journal, and decided at the time that it was probably for the best, anyway. Reading what your estranged mother really thought about you was not something you were eager to do. It was an overall odd experience, riffling through the sum of another's life while seeking answers to your own. You stare down at your bag, hesitating as if a three-headed sand snake would bite your hand if you reached inside of it. When you finally gather the courage to take the device out and settle onto the sofa, Callum beeps. "Hello, $fname," they say, their voice soft but clinical, "I have detect a message device in the environment. Would you like me to download and project it for you?" You swallow, tracing the flat, triangular device with your thumbs as you hold it in your palm. Nodding, you ask, "How will you do that?" Callum responds, "There is a screen in the present room to display on." Standing up, you turn to face the aquarium. A small platform emerges from within a dark cube as the screen raises. "Place the device on the platform and remove your appendages from the area." You do as Callum states, the disc fitting perfectly on the platform. Your hands drop to your sides as the platform slides back into the wall. A black screen replaces the aquarium, then the faces of your parents appear on the screen after a flicker of white noise. Persephone’s open face and kind eyes soften Lyla’s sharp features, her expression tight, and eyes slightly narrowed. In surprise, your eyes flit between the two women—taking in all of their differences. The way Lyla’s black, cropped hair contrasted with Persephone’s long, fiery locks; her striking cerulean eyes meet Persephone’s warm emerald ones before they both turn back to you. You did not know this was a video! You assumed that when Callum said it would project the message, it meant put the audio through speakers. You kneel on the couch, putting your face closer to the screen. Fingers tracing the outline of their faces, you feel tears welling up in your eyes. It’s been almost a decade since you last saw your parents. All you have left of them are trinkets, regrets, and more questions than answers. "How did they record this in this format if they were on Terra? We don’t have this kind of tech," you ask, hoping Callum has a response. The video pauses. After scanning the device for a moment, Callum announces, "This device was manufactured in Caligo 8 years ago." <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S2">><</button>></span>

That must have been around the time they shipped you off to the Institute, when they brought you your last round of medicine. There is a beat of silence as you take this in, and Callum says, "I found records for both of your parents at the Crimson Magistrate’s Office." "What?" you exclaim, "Can you retrieve it for me?" "I do not have access to that information," Callum replies. "Well how do you know they have records if you can’t access them?" you ask, eyes narrowed. "I am integrated with Caligo’s main infrastructure and I can run basic queries within some databases. My access, however, is limited," Callum says, "I can tell you there are files, but I cannot access the contents of the files." "I see. Thanks, Callum. You can continue to play the message." The video unpauses and your parents both look annoyed to be in the same room. From the looks of it, they recorded this message from Persephone’s office; her bookshelves filled to the brim with books and her messy desk area giving away their location. In the far back, a wall with a child’s drawings stands untouched. Lyla opens her mouth, but Persephone speaks up first. Her soft voice fills the room and you briefly look around for speakers, but do not find any and turn your attention back to the screen. "$fname, if you have possession of this, it means that Lyla and I are no longer around," she says, brows knitted together, "By this point, you are probably running low on your reserve of medicine." "You will need to go to Caligo," Lyla says, quietly and slowly, "You can only find the ingredients for your potions in Caligo." Her eyes meet yours in a direct gaze. You stumble back slightly—it’s almost as if she can see right through you. Persephones’s jaw clenches and her mouth draws a fine line. She crosses her arms across her chest and ignores the look Lyla gives her. "There is a man named Ulfgar. He runs a store called Rory’s Apothecary." You found out after contacting him that Ulfar had rebranded, and Lyla glances over to Persephone. <<if $perception is "observant">> Persephone’s rigid posture causes a popping vein in her neck as she avoids looking at Lyla. You recognize this behavior—your mother always went still after fighting with Lyla. They must have argued before filming the message. Lyla, seeing that her wife would not look at her, turns her eyes back to you. Persephone does not move for a second. <<elseif $perception is "insightful">> Lyla’s sour expression draws you in, and as she looks at you, you see that there is something softer behind her eyes. When she looks at Persephone, it isn’t with anger or disdain, but regret. Her wrinkles soften at the corners of her eyes as she glances at Persephone, and her brows furrow slightly when her wife doesn’t acknowledge her. She schools her face into a completely blank expression when she faces you again. <</if>> Lyla speaks again, "Find Ulfgar. You can trust him. We have—we <i>had</i> a place in Caligo. You should stay there." "Once you find Ulfgar, search for the second message. $fname, be wary of who you trust. If we were—" Persephone chokes on her words for a moment, and Lyla reaches to rub her back, but Persephone jerks away from her touch, leaning forward. "If we were still there, we would handle this for you. But we aren’t, and… well, it would be wrong not to warn you." [[Warn me about, what exactly? They haven’t named anything in particular…]] [[Ah, as cryptic and strange as usual. I expected nothing less from them.]] [[Why can’t they ever just give me a direct answer? I’m so tired of these games.]]

<<set $patient += 1>> Nothing about Caligo seemed dangerous so far, and they have been here before, so what was the fuss about? "The second message will be inside the apartment. It will tell you where you need to go to get a refill," Lyla swallows, "I hope for your sake that this does not take long. The side effects are devastating and… $fname, do not wait too long. Get to Tenebrae, get the medicine, and go on with your life." The video pauses and Callum speaks, "That was the end of the message. Would you like to see it again?" You shake your head. The familiar discomfort of experiencing their tension was too much at this moment. Their urgency confused you the first time you listened, and that hasn’t changed after this viewing. You must have listened to the message a hundred times on the way to the Portal Hub in Aurora Vista. You couldn’t fathom why they didn’t want to disclose this information when they had the chance, and why you needed to go on a hunt for these messages. What you saw so far of Caligo did not seem dangerous, and it baffled you they would be so vague even in death. But since it also meant an adventure, a break from the work-school-study routine you grew accustomed to, you opted to go along with it. The hope that you may find out something about yourself was compelling enough. For the first time since your parents’ deaths, you have <i>something</i> to look forward to. "No, thank you. Would you have any idea where this second message would be?" you ask, eyes scanning the room as you place your hands on your hips. The bookshelves seemed to have something to hide, or maybe there were more compartments in the walls. "I do not. I was created and installed well after your parents lived here," Callum responds. After dismissing Callum, you walk over to the bookshelf to inspect it. You pull out each of the books and scan through them, but find no device. You check the bedroom’s closets and drawers, but find nothing but old mothballs and dust. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S3">><</button>></span>

<<set $sociable += 1>> How could you take anything they said seriously when they were always cryptic? "The second message will be inside the apartment. It will tell you where you need to go to get a refill," Lyla swallows, "I hope for your sake that this does not take long. The side effects are devastating and… $fname, do not wait too long. Get to Tenebrae, get the medicine, and go on with your life." The video pauses and Callum speaks, "That was the end of the message. Would you like to see it again?" You shake your head. The familiar discomfort of experiencing their tension was too much at this moment. Their urgency confused you the first time you listened, and that hasn’t changed after this viewing. You must have listened to the message a hundred times on the way to the Portal Hub in Aurora Vista. You couldn’t fathom why they didn’t want to disclose this information when they had the chance, and why you needed to go on a hunt for these messages. What you saw so far of Caligo did not seem dangerous, and it baffled you they would be so vague even in death. But since it also meant an adventure, a break from the work-school-study routine you grew accustomed to, you opted to go along with it. The hope that you may find out something about yourself was compelling enough. For the first time since your parents’ deaths, you have <i>something</i> to look forward to. "No, thank you. Would you have any idea where this second message would be?" you ask, eyes scanning the room as you place your hands on your hips. The bookshelves seemed to have something to hide, or maybe there were more compartments in the walls. "I do not. I was created and installed well after your parents lived here," Callum responds. After dismissing Callum, you walk over to the bookshelf to inspect it. You pull out each of the books and scan through them, but find no device. You check the bedroom’s closets and drawers, but find nothing but old mothballs and dust. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S3">><</button>></span>

<<set $impatient += 1>> Frustration battles with disappointment within you as the message continues, and you roll your eyes hard at Lyla's next words. "The second message will be inside the apartment. It will tell you where you need to go to get a refill," Lyla swallows, "I hope for your sake that this does not take long. The side effects are devastating and… $fname, do not wait too long. Get to Tenebrae, get the medicine, and go on with your life." The video pauses and Callum speaks, "That was the end of the message. Would you like to see it again?" "No," you shake your head. The familiar discomfort of experiencing their tension was too much at this moment. Their urgency confused you the first time you listened, and that hasn’t changed after this viewing. You must have listened to the message a hundred times on the way to the Portal Hub in Aurora Vista. You couldn’t fathom why they didn’t want to disclose this information when they had the chance, and why you needed to go on a hunt for these messages. What you saw so far of Caligo did not seem dangerous, and it baffled you they would be so vague even in death. But since it also meant an adventure, a break from the work-school-study routine you grew accustomed to, you opted to go along with it. The hope that you may find out something about yourself was compelling enough. For the first time since your parents’ deaths, you have <i>something</i> to look forward to. "No, thank you. Would you have any idea where this second message would be?" you ask, eyes scanning the room as you place your hands on your hips. The bookshelves seemed to have something to hide, or maybe there were more compartments in the walls. "I do not. I was created and installed well after your parents lived here," Callum responds. After dismissing Callum, you walk over to the bookshelf to inspect it. You pull out each of the books and scan through them, but find no device. You check the bedroom’s closets and drawers, but find nothing but old mothballs and dust. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S3">><</button>></span>

<<if $perception is "observant">> Back in the living room, you pace the floor quickly, feeling the smoothness of the hardwood beneath your feet. After a few paces, you begin to notice that one of the floorboards under you creaks and shifts more than the others. As you squat on the floor, you can feel the rough texture of the wood beneath your fingertips as you attempt to pry the floorboard open. You attempt to budge it, but it stands firm, leaving you puzzled and scratching your head in disbelief. It’s clearly loose, yet stubbornly refuses to budge. You rise and move ahead on the floorboard, deciding to explore a different location. When your foot moves, the floorboard makes a popping sound. When you look down, you notice that it’s loose and raised higher than the rest of the floor. You squat and pick up the floorboard, revealing a box within. <<elseif $perception is "insightful">> Slowly pacing the floor in the living room, you gaze out of the window. <i>Why would they hide this? And where?</i> As you consider your parents’ words, something Lyla said stands out in your mind. “The second message will be inside the apartment.” She had raised her eyebrows when she said that, eyes widening slightly. <i>Inside the apartment … not in or at the apartment, but inside.</i> An idea forms in your mind and you begin to pace the floor carefully. After a few paces, the wood creaks loudly, and you notice that one of the floorboards under you shifts more than the others. <i>Inside.</i> As you squat on the floor, you can feel the rough texture of the wood beneath your fingertips as you attempt to pry the floorboard open. It stays firm, and you look at it in disbelief. You examine it for a moment before placing your hand on top and pushing down. The floorboard pops up, revealing a box within. <</if>> After picking up the box and placing the floorboard back into place, you find yourself standing by the aquarium once again. "Callum," you say, opening the box to reveal the second message device. "Can you play this for me?" The Network does not respond, but the screen lifts and you place the device inside. You heave out a deep sigh, not looking forward to seeing the dour faces of your parents. "Play." <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S4">><</button>></span>

The second message was just as short and cryptic as the first one. Your parents instructed you to seek the Dean of Herbalism at the Caligan School with no extra information. Apparently, the Dean could draft more of the potions you require. Since only this Herbalist knew the ingredients needed to make it, you had no other option but to seek her out. You sigh as you lock your apartment door, frustrated at your parents’ ominous warning, turning to walk down the stairs and into the storefront. As you approach the curtain, you hear two voices arguing. "I came here to help you with the store, not listen to your complaints about mom." "I-I’m sorry, I just thought you’d want to know," a sorrowful voice responds "I won’t say anything further." The other folk responds in a low voice, and you strain to hear what they say, "You’d better not say anything to <i>anyone</i> about that. None of us want our secrets spilled, especially not under the Sovereign’s watchful eye." There is a loud silence before one of the folk shuffles and the sound of their footsteps depart. After a moment, you clear your throat and walk through the curtain. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S5">><</button>></span>

Twyl stands behind the counter refilling some jars with shredded plants, and his expression shifts eerily quickly from irritation to tranquil when he looks up at you. "Hello, $fname," he says in a deceptively cheerful tone, "Did you sleep okay last night?" Wondering if your dreams were a side effect of the medicine, you reported it to Ulfgar and Twyl yesterday. They determined you were portal lagged, and the dream was just a product of being in Caligo. Strange dreams weren’t a side effect of the meds Ulfgar gave you, after all. Though you haven't specified what the dreams were about exactly, and thankfully neither of them pried. "I slept well, thanks," you say, walking up to stand in front of his counter and taking a look at the assortment of ingredients. "What are you up to today?" "I was actually going to ask you that," he says, placing the metal tongs he uses to handle the plants down gently. "I’m working double today, but I wanted to know if you would like to meet for lunch?" <<if !$vs>> “Just platonically! You are living in my store, after all,” he says with a grin, “That actually makes you and I family.” “Isn’t this your dad’s store?” “Well, yes, so I guess that makes us both your family.” His words hit against a desperate pang of longing you keep bottled up, a warmth blossoming within your chest. You hadn’t considered that Ulfgar and Twyl would accept you like this, and while a part of you secretly rejoices, you’re smart enough to know to keep a distance. <<elseif $vs>> You quirk an eyebrow at him—he knows what you are asking by the way he puts his hands up. You’ve seen the flirtatious way he’s interacted with customers, and just yesterday, he was trying to secure a discount by flirting with the vendor. “Just platonically! You are living in my store, after all,” he says with a grin, “We’re practically neighbors; we should get to know each other.” Something warm unfurls within your chest, his words hitting that part of you that you keep bottled up. He wanted to get to know <i>you</i>. Your classmates at the Institute made it a point to avoid you, so any attempts at making friends failed. Metalia didn’t help with any of it, either. Your hand clenches for a moment before shrugging the thought away with efficiency. Twyl looks at you expectantly. <</if>> "Sure, but you’ll have to choose and translate for me," you say, already walking toward the door. "I’ll message you the address!" Twyl calls out as you open the door and disappear outside. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S6">><</button>></span>

The Caligan School is easy to get to, despite the city center being off limits today. You had to take the alternate, scenic route, and it allowed you to prepare yourself for this visit. Your parents’ second message warned you to be careful when traversing Caligo, and the looks on their faces meant they were serious. Though, to their credit, they were always serious when it came to you. You had seen nothing so far that would suggest you were in danger, nor has anyone made you feel unease. The woods leading to the school are peaceful; the unnatural breeze causing chatter between the trees and the distinct sounds of animals that you can only guess at. Your parents had a habit of giving you partial information or no information at all, all while still urging you to be careful. They blamed it on your unstable core, but could never tell you why this happened to you or how your core developed in this way. You always knew they were keeping things from you, and it strained your relationship. But the feeling of unknowing now that they were gone felt amplified because their knowledge died with them. Sorrow and anger bristle from their home inside of your skin. With Lyla and Persephone, everything simply was the way it was, and nothing you ever said or did could change their perspective. You often wondered if your disability was the reason they sent you away, the reason for their almost indiscernible ire. A knot forms in your stomach, and with a practiced ease you manage to brush away those unsavory thoughts as the campus comes into view. The campus comprises a large building with a connected greenhouse, a quad, and a few smaller buildings scattered around the grounds. The school has a cozy and rustic atmosphere, contrasting with the bustle of the city. As you approach the main building, students pass you by wearing dark robes bearing the school’s insignia. You notice some of them relaxing on blankets in the quad, with lamp posts scattered around the campus to guide folks. Pausing in front of the building, you retrieve your communicator to download the building’s digital map. The map stands as an enlarged, digital projection by the doorway, and you note how intricate the layout of the school is. You attempt to find the Herbalist’s library on the map, but all the text is in Latin. The only words you can decipher are ‘room’ and ‘science’. You tap one of the rooms, and the popup is also completely in Latin. Sighing, you decide you have to find someone to help you find the Herbalist. How difficult could it be? They are, after all, the dean of their respective department. You walk around the school for a while, marveling at the school’s gothic architecture and the ornate silver decorations inside. After a while, you must take a wrong turn because you find yourself in a long, wide hallway devoid of anyfolk else. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S7">><</button>></span>

A few doors beckon at the end of the hall. Paintings and photos line the dark walls in a mixtiles fashion and you stop for a moment to observe one that catches your eye. This painting is larger than the rest and hangs by itself on the wall: Seated on an elegant throne is a pale vampire woman with prominent cheekbones and sly, full lips. Her inky black hair is parted down the middle, the silks of it adorning her shoulders. Standing behind her are three distinct individuals: an ebony-skinned demon with a voluminous afro and curved horns, a towering vampire with piercing red eyes, and a graceful Solarelf adorned in flowing Elucidan drapes. The elf cradles a baby while several children surround the sitting woman. Each child has features from an adult in the painting, making them all look similar. The painting’s name, surprisingly in Common, catches your eye as you look down. <div style="text-align: center;"> <b>The Sovereignty Vidius, 1555.</b> </div> You stumble back, snapping your eyes back to the painting. Despite your knowledge of the Sovereign and her family, you had never <i>seen</i> them. Terrans, after all, were not fans of the Sovereignty. Fighting off colonization for hundreds of years will do that. As of right now, there is a fragile peace between the realms. A fragility most are balancing on a tightrope. You take a closer look at the painting, the faces of the Sovereign and her Royal Consorts radiate with pride, while the regal and tranquil expressions of the children add a sense of grace to the scene. Your cautious eyes meet the Sovereign’s, unable to resist the magnetism in hers. In the back of your mind, you realize you were avoiding them. Her piercing blue eyes seem to draw you into a daze, the cold in them creating small cascades of frost lining your spine. You shiver and attempt to pull away from her gaze, but something in it holds you in place. Something almost… Sinis— <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S8">><</button>></span>

<<audio doorslam play>> A door slamming shut shakes you out of your reverie, and you look down the hall to see a petite figure floating in your direction. They’re mumbling something to themselves in Latin, sounding quite angry when they pass you. A fairy? As they glide ahead, their wings emit a radiant glow of phthalo green, illuminating their path. You jog to catch up with them, and when they see you behind them, their face lights up with surprise. "Did you need something?" their soft voice asks, "The registrar is the room I just came from." "I’m not here to enroll, I was looking for someone but got lost…" you trail off under their direct gaze. The fairy nods. "You’ll need to go back down this hall and take two lefts, then you’ll be back at the quad." They turn to float away when your next set of words cause them to pause. "I’m looking for the Dean of Herbalism. I was told to go there for a refill?" As the fairy turns back to you, the skin-hugging hoops in their long, pointed ears glint in the light. Deep black eyes narrow behind large, circular glasses, and their long white braid flows gently as they bob in place to scrutinize you. "I don’t recognize you. Do you have a prescription?" <i>A prescription!?</i> Your eyes widen, not expecting that. Of course your parents would warn you about imaginary dangers, but wouldn't mention the most important part of this entire ordeal. "Uh, no, but I was hopi—" "You need a prescription to obtain our services. Come back when you have that," the fairy says in an annoyed tone, floating backwards. "And when you come back, ask for Pantella, his apprentice, and personal assistant, apparently," they mumble in the last part, rolling their eyes. "I’m she or they." "Wait!" you call, speed walking after them. "I was told to come here by my parents, they probably have a prescription on file." Pantella slows down, waiting for you to catch up before their brows knit together. "Oh? Why didn't they come, then?" "They would usually get me my medicine but… they passed away some time ago and I'm running out." "That sounds complicated," Pantella sighs out as she rubs her forehead. They must have had a long night, as evident by the tired, dark circles forming under the fairy’s eyes, contrasting with their eerily pale skin. "Alright," they say, motioning for you to follow, “Come with me, and we can look through the records together.” <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S9">><</button>></span>

Walking beside her, you feel a sense of relief wash over you. You glance to Pantella as they float next to you, following when she makes a right down another long hallway. "So you work for the Dean?" you ask, and she spares you a glance. "I handle all of the logistics for the prescription orders and deliveries, and I help him make the medicines too," she says, waving their hand. "There’s other stuff but that’s the gist of it." "You deliver medicine to folks?" you prompt them, impressed. It must be a feat to both craft <i>and</i> deliver medicine to folks all over Caligo. They nod as she says, "The Dean is a distributor of some concoctions around here. He even created some of them," she looks at you curiously. "Where are you from?" You groan, now realizing she’s been speaking to you in Common this whole time. "How could you tell I’m not from here? I even changed my clothes and my hair." You cast a disappointed look down at your attire, kicking your foot out to examine your footwear. Pantella giggles, their laughter sounding like the tinkling of delicate bells. "Aside from the fact that you look like a lost foxpup, you don’t know who the Dean is," she says. The words hang in the air with a hint of amusement. "Everyone from here does," she explains after you raise an eyebrow, as if it were some unwritten rule. "He must be quite popular then," you say, unsure of how else to respond to that. "Very," she giggles again. Compared to Terra, Caligo is a small place, so it makes sense that some folks are well known, especially if this Dean is involved in the distribution of medicine. Pantella makes another turn that leads to a long staircase, stopping to be shoulder to shoulder with you before continuing her glide up. "I’m from Terra," you say, answering her question while following close next to her. "Ooh, Terra!" she spins to face you as she continues to float, black eyes sparkling. "I’ve never been but I hear it’s beautiful. I’ve seen photos of the beaches and cities." "It is, I attend an institute that sits on a beach," you say with pride—an emotion you never thought you’d feel about it. "Aren’t the Unity Games happening on Terra soon?" You nod, "Hopefully I can get back home in time to see them. This time it’s going to be hosted in the Eastern Territories." A sense of wonder fills her as you exit the staircase, seeming to have walked up at least five flights. She floats into another hallway, holding the door for you as you catch your breath. You follow her as she comes to a stop in front of a large, ornate metal door. The black frame of the door almost disappears against the darkness of the walls, with a pair of silver handles catching the light. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S10">><</button>></span>

"I’d love to visit you someday!" they exclaim, pushing open the door, "For now, please make yourself comfortable as I pull the records." Pantella floats forward and to the left of the room, and you trail behind her in awe. Despite its small first appearance, the room turned out to be surprisingly spacious and welcoming. The room showcases shelves filled with books, extending along the sides and reaching all the way up the wall. The tall ceiling is adorned with two large chandeliers, which gracefully hang and cast a warm flow of light over the entire space. On the left side of the room, you find Pantella at a desk, which has a network panel embedded into it. A barred glass case, positioned right behind them, neatly holds a collection of bottles with various shapes and shades. Positioned on the right side, you take in the sight of long mahogany tables that are filled with an assortment of writing utensils and scattered books. A small, spiral staircase located towards the back of the room draws your attention. The sight of the intricately twisted metal steps leading to another floor leave you curious, especially when you discover it comprises a room and, right next to it, what seemed to be a small lab by a large window. You watch as Pantella operates the panel in her desk. With a single, skillful motion of her hand, the screen is magnified and expands to occupy the entire area in front of you. She glides over to stand in front of it, and you stand across from them, the digital projection between you. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S11">><</button>></span>

"What’s your last name?" she asks, the query waiting. "$lname,” you respond, "My moms were Lyla and Persephone." Pantella looks at you through the screen for a moment before they enter your last name, but the query comes back with no results. "Are you sure that you spelled it correctly?" "I did, and I tried it again and still no results…" Pantella says, folding their arms and holding her chin with her forefinger and thumb, "Are you <i> sure </i> your parents got your meds from here? Not on Terra?" "I’m certain," you say, "They left me a video message with instructions to come here. The ingredients for it can only grow here." You opt to leave out that you probably have just as much information as Pantella did. Pantella hums in contemplation, "What year did they first get the meds?" You pause for a moment, tallying up how many years it’s been since you started the concoction and converting it to Vidius. "1554." Pantella’s eyes widen and she swipes her hand to dismiss the screen. It disappears within the panel in her desk. "That predates our virtual filing system," she says, their black eyes narrowing at you. "There was a different Dean then." [["What does that mean? Where is the previous Dean?"]] [["Can you give me that Dean’s contact information then?"]] [[Say nothing]]

<<if settings.notifications>><<notify 3s>><b>Character Stats Updated!</b><</notify>><</if>> <<audio chapter2 play>> Before you can respond to her condolences, a figure steps out of the door above the staircase. The sudden appearance of him catches your full attention immediately. His elegantly monogrammed purple and black robes accentuate his lean figure, which stands slightly hunched over. The robes are lined with silver, differentiating it from the student uniform. The sharp jut of his cheekbones glow golden when the light hits them, complimenting his bronze skin. As he turns his head, his dark brown coils shift slightly on his shoulders. Smooth amber eyes squint, flitting between you and Pantella. You see the glint of a fang as he leans on the bannister and places his head between his arms. "<i>Merda</i>, Tells, the fucking noise," The man mumbles something to Pantella in Latin, his deep voice as smooth as fresh honey, cascading over your ears like velvet. <<if $vs>> The half moon-shaped dark circles under his eyes do not take away from his regal beauty; they somehow add to his hauntedness. <<elseif !$vs>> With the half moon-shaped dark circles under his eyes and wrinkled robe, his disheveled appearance was hard to miss. <</if>> They have a brief exchange, and he rubs his face, trudging down the staircase. Pantella switches back to Common, "My apologies, Xander, I did not expect a patient today, either. But uh," she pauses, turning to you expectantly and you whisper your first name to her, "$fname here has a prescription that isn’t in our system. Actually it predates our system—apparently their <i>parents</i> worked with the previous Dean of Herbalism?" Something in her tone and the slight widening of her eyes makes you glance at her in scrutiny, but her questioning expression when she looks at you causes you to quickly return your focus to the man. The Dean’s brow furrows as he and Pantella exchange an unreadable look, and he pauses in front of both of you, studying your face intently. "What exactly do you want from us?" Xander demands in Common, his Latin accent as sharp and impatient as his tone. You flinch at his tone and glance at Pantella. She only nods at you, giving the Dean a disapproving look in the meantime, so you introduce yourself and give him the rundown of your situation. His expression doesn’t change, and when you are done, his eyes glaze over as he rubs his sharp chin, "I’d have to contact Nimue for your prescription. Then I’d have to gather the ingredients, make it, test it, and package it. That will take until Ediva, the soonest. There are other patients ahead of you in the queue." Your chest squeezes as dizziness sets in. <i>Another two months …</i> "My portal pass expires in Ediva," you start another plea, a feeling of irritation lining your words, "I can place an official order once you get the prescription, from Nimue?, then maybe you can just ship all of it to Terra?" "So let me get this straight," Xander huffs in an incredulous tone, "You want me to craft you a lifetime’s worth of potions and have them hand delivered to you on Terra?" His eyebrow arches as he crosses his arms, his gaze indolently trailing up and down your form. "Do you have any idea how much that costs? Export fees to other realms are sky high right now. You don’t strike me as some kind of noble that can afford that." You grind your teeth together. This man, whose profession literally involved caring for folks, was proving to be remarkably unhelpful. <i> Who the hell gave this man this job!? </i> <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S13">><</button>></span>

"I could pay it off in portions, or we could exchange services. It looks like you’re busy here," you nod toward Pantella’s desk, already regretting what you were about to offer. That pile of paperwork that Pantella keeps glancing to justifies your assumption, though. "I’m a courier on Terra. I could handle deliveries for you here to cover the first few months, at least." You would have to file for an extension with the Magistrate, but at least your core would be stable and all the annoying symptoms would go away. Reva would understand, and could petition for a longer leave on your behalf at the Institute. The Dean and Pantella seem blurry as you consider your next steps in your head. A sly smirk forms on the Dean’s strikingly handsome face and he turns to Pantella, who is now drifting back to their desk. You blink quickly, unsure if you are seeing correctly. He really was smirking! Or, half smirking. It’s smugness that tilts his lip upward, and you resist the urge to reach forward and smack— "This would really cut down on the time you spend on deliveries," he calls out to Pantella, then looks back at you, "Plus I was going to hire a student to do it anyway, but if you’re offering to do it for free…" His voice trails off, and his eyes, though warm in color, have a calculating, detached look. They never leave yours, again scanning for something in your eyes as his nostrils flare gently. Free? For someone who just looked down at you, he was sure cheap. Maybe he thought you would run away screaming if he looked at you with enough intimidation. [[Bristle]] [[Sigh and glare at him]] [[Ignore him and turn your attention to Pantella]]

<<if settings.notifications>><<notify 3s>><b>Character Stats Updated!</b><</notify>><</if>> <i>What a rude man!</i> You hold back a scoff and walk up to Pantella’s desk. "I guess we better figure out the details?" Pantella looks up from where they were sorting through some papers. "I’m actually very busy today. The Caius Festival is in a few days and I need to finalize some orders before then." "Caius Festival?" No folk has mentioned anything about that so far, though it would explain why the city center was off limits earlier today. "It’s a celebration marking the anniversary of the Vidius family’s claim to the Sovereignty. Since the first Vidius, Caius, took the Sovereignty, a carnival has been held every year," she says as she carefully selects a paper from the pile. "There’s food, dancing, and performances. They also lift the curfew for two nights." "Will the Vidius family be there?" you ask curiously. "They usually are, yes. The carnival used to take place all over Caligo, but because of … recent events, it’s being centralized to the city center," she floats up from their seat and starts toward the opposite end of the library. You wouldn’t necessarily call what happened <i>recent</i>, but it still has not been that long since the last <<link "Successor">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Successor"); Dialog.wiki("The Sovereign’s Successor is selected after the Sovereign begins having children. Children are tested at birth until one is positive for the mysterious genetic factor. Once a Successor is appointed, the Sovereign stops testing their children."); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>> was assassinated. Both the Sovereignty and the Crimson Court increased their protections in the last few years as a result. Pausing for a moment above you, her soft voice shakes you from your thoughts, "I really need to get back to work though. Come back after the festival, and I can put together your delivery routes." "Thank you, Pantella," you say, giving her a genuine smile, "You did not have to help me but you did." "Xander can be a jerk, but he said he’ll help so I’ll hold him to it," she says, smiling back, "We would never turn away a patient in need." Pantella gives you instructions to find an exit, and after leaving the school, you wonder if you made a mistake in offering your services. Shaking off the uncertainty, you reason that since you already had a place to live, it wouldn’t be so bad to stay longer in Caligo. Your communicator vibrates in your pocket and you pull it out to see that Twyl has messaged you the location of the restaurant. Looking back at the school, <<cycle "$outlook" autoselect>> <<option "determination">> <<option "dread">> <</cycle>> fills you before you begin the walk back into Tenebrae. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S15">><</button>></span>

<<set $patient += 1>> You pull out your communicator, "Can you give me that Dean’s cont—" Pantella interjects, floating closer to you. "The old Dean lives in another part of Caligo. You would need to go through the new Dean to get to them—he’s the only one with direct contact with them." They glance up toward the room the staircase leads to. "I think he’s in by now, but…" "But what?" you probe, your head shaking slightly, "Can’t he help me?" Pantella hesitates, her arms dropping to their sides, "He specifically asked me not to bother him today," she pauses, "Actually he doesn’t like to be bothered ever. And you don’t have an appointment so…" With the biggest, most pleading look that you can muster, you gaze at her intently. "Please, Pantella." "What’s this medicine for, anyway?" she asks, exasperation tinging her tone as she glances at a pile of papers on her desk, "I’ll need to know so I can justify interrupting him." [[Answer honestly]] [[Be vague]]

<<set $secretive +=1>> Your brain struggles to reconcile this information. You make to say something when Pantella speaks, floating closer to you. "The old Dean lives in another part of Caligo. You would need to go through the new Dean to get to them—he’s the only one with direct contact with them." They glance up toward the room the staircase leads to. "I think he’s in by now, but…" "But what?" you probe, "Can’t he help me?" Pantella hesitates, her arms dropping to their sides, "He specifically asked me not to bother him today," she pauses, "Actually he doesn’t like to be bothered ever. And you don’t have an appointment so…" With the biggest, most pleading look that you can muster, you gaze at her intently. "Please, Pantella." "What’s this medicine for, anyway?" she asks, exasperation tinging her tone as she glances at a pile of papers on her desk, "I’ll need to know so I can justify interrupting him." [[Answer honestly]] [[Be vague]]

<<set $impatient += 1>> "What does that mean? Where is the previous Dean?" you blurt out, the words desperately spilling out of you, "Maybe if I can find them, I can get my prescr—" Pantella interjects, floating closer to you, "The old Dean lives in another part of Caligo. You would need to go through the new Dean to get to them—he’s the only one with direct contact with them." They glance up toward the room the staircase leads to. "I think he’s in by now, but…" "But what?" you probe, "Can’t he help me?" Pantella hesitates, her arms dropping to their sides, "He specifically asked me not to bother him today," she pauses, "Actually he doesn’t like to be bothered ever. And you don’t have an appointment so…" With the biggest, most pleading look that you can muster, you gaze at her intently. "Please, Pantella." "What’s this medicine for, anyway?" she asks, exasperation tinging her tone as she glances at a pile of papers on her desk, "I’ll need to know so I can justify interrupting him." [[Answer honestly]] [[Be vague]]

<<set $candid += 1>> <<set $pantella_stat += 5>> "I was born with an unstable core. The potions I was taking stabilizes it since I have no control over it," you say, quietly, "I only have 3 months worth left." Pantella’s nose flares slightly as their eyes jump down to your chest. She frowns for a moment before looking back at you. While maintaining eye contact, she softly says, "I apologize. That must be unpleasant to deal with." <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S12">><</button>></span>

<<set $secretive += 1>> <<set $pantella_stat -= 1>> "The potions keep me and everyfolk around me alive. Trust me on that," you say cooly, not meeting her gaze. "If you aren’t going to tell me, then you can get out," she replies, matching the frost in your tone, "I’m not getting in trouble with my boss for you." She starts to float back to her desk when you fold, blurting out from gritted teeth, "Fine!" They pause, looking back at you expectedly. "I was born with an unstable core. The potions I was taking stabilizes it since I have no control over it," you say, quietly, "I only have 3 months worth left." Pantella’s nose flares slightly as their eyes jump down to your chest. She frowns for a moment before looking back at you. While maintaining eye contact, she softly says, "I apologize. I couldn’t imagine being unable to use magic." <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S12">><</button>></span>

<<set $impatient += 1>> You bristle, mouth twitching to hold back a sneer, "This isn’t free. We’re doing an exchange of ser—" "Yeah, yeah," he interjects as he turns to climb back up the stairs to his office. "I will call Nimue. Work the other details out with Pantella." He doesn’t even look back at you before disappearing behind the door. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S14">><</button>></span>

<<set $patient += 1>> <<set $xander_stat += 5>> You sigh deeply and meet his intruding gaze with a glare. "Not free. I need the medicine and you need a courier. This seems like the best way to pay off the debt I will be incurring." The corner of his lip tilts further at your glare and he turns to walk back up the stairs to his office. "I will call Nimue. Work the other details out with Pantella." Xander waves you away with one final look before disappearing behind the door. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S14">><</button>></span>

<<set $patient += 1>> <<set $pantella_stat += 5>> "I’m happy to help you, but this isn’t free. We’re exchanging services," you say to Pantella, ignoring how the man beside you bristles at your lack of attention. "I get that," Pantella says softly, giving you a nod. "I don’t see why we can’t help each other." Xander rolls his eyes and turns to walk back up the stairs to his office. "I will call Nimue. Work the other details out with Pantella." He doesn’t even look at you before slamming the door behind him. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S14">><</button>></span>

"Whose word did you study?" Twyl asks, dipping his spoon into his bowl. He ordered a cold dish garnished with a variety of diced vegetables over a hearty amber liquid, "I hear there are plenty of prophet trainings on Terra." "Have you ever been to Terra, or are you familiar with our prophets?" you ask him, wanting to know how much knowledge he has so you know how much to tell him. "I’ve never been to Terra and I can’t say I’m familiar with the prophets at all," he replies sheepishly, flashing his teeth in a small smile, "I am familiar with <<link "Elucido">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Elucido"); Dialog.wiki("Roughly translated to 'light', Elucido is a realm located outside the Known universe, existing beyond the reach of ordinary space and time. The Elucidans live in a mountainous and rugged region, with homes built directly into the cliffs and slopes. "); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>>'s, though, since I lived there..." "Well, I live in Aurora Vista, which is a Southern territory," you say, pulling up a holographic image of Terra on your communicator and sliding it toward him. He uses his fingers to zoom into the map as you speak, "I attend the Elysian Prophet Institute, it’s one of the more popular ones. <<cycle "$beliefsys" autoselect>> <<option "I'm a believer in Nandini the Last Starweaver, who possessed the power to commune with celestial entities. We believe in the universe's balance, which is upheld through the Celestial Dance of creation and destruction. We worship celestial bodies like the Terran suns and moons. Our belief is that the universe will be remade if it is ever destroyed, following the natural cycle." "The Celestial Dance">> <<option "My studies revolved around the teachings of Alder Naira, the esteemed high dryad. Alder Naira teaches that things have their origins in nature. We believe in leaning on our sacred connection to nature. I made a pact to protect it. If I had a working core, I could tap into nature's power and communicate with its spirits." "Nairan Druidism">> <<option "I'm a follower of Rowena Linden, the Divine Threadwalker. She possessed the power to communicate with the Threads of Time and the Space Mind. Rowena found out that these things were not mere concepts, but actual beings with thoughts and feelings. If anything were to happen to these entities, we believe that everything would come to an end." "Temporalism">> <<option "I’ve dedicated myself to The Radiant Hymns by Aurelia Joysong, a path to living in tranquility alongside the universe. Our belief lies in the power of song, the beauty of life, and the significance of love. We aim to thoroughly explore the human experience, bringing joy and creativity without causing harm. By doing that, we achieve perfect harmony with the universe." "Harmonic Joysong">> <</cycle>>" Twyl smiles at you as you speak about your studies. "That sounds nice," he nods, his wrist dropping slightly as his spoon pauses its course from bowl to mouth, "Believing in something. I myself don’t follow any specific prophets, but I do believe in the Consciousness." "Some folks have a draw towards the prophethood, and some don’t," you shrug, giving him a tight smile as that annoying feeling coils around your stomach again. You didn’t have a particular draw to prophethood, but you did have firm faith in your chosen Ascended. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S16">><</button>></span>

<<if settings.notifications>><<notify 10s>><b>Prophethood Locked In!</b><</notify>><</if>> <<audio chapter2 fadeout>> "You’ll find a mix of beliefs here," Twyl says, swallowing his soup. "Some folks follow the prophets, some worship the old gods." "The old gods?" you echo, pausing mid-bite. "They’re said to have created Caligo and Elucido." "Oh, are they what folks refer to as the <<link "Archangels">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Archangels"); Dialog.wiki("The Archangels are widely accepted to be the creators of the realms that exist outside of Terra. They are divine beings with the power to create."); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>>?" You read about the Archangels a very long time ago during one of your classes. The legends say that the Archangels created Caligo and Elucido so they would not be alone. They gifted Elucido to the Consciousness when it was born. "I didn’t realize folks still believed—or learned—about them," you say, impressed at how long the legend lives on. "No folk has seen one for a half a millenia. Not after <<link "The Rebalancing">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("The Rebalancing"); Dialog.wiki("A cosmic-level event where the Archangels revoked the gift of immortality and immunity from all their creations. The Archangels then locked themselves away in Si'ool."); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>>." The air in the restaurant goes stagnant and everything pauses for just a moment. Just a fraction of a minute—and then immediately returns to normal. You pause, the shift in energy causing you to cautiously look around for the disturbance. Finding none, you continue to eat, already forgetting what you were talking about. Twyl finishes the last of his soup and pushes his bowl to the side. One of the servers, a very pretty looking wood elf, picks it up immediately, all while trying to catch Twyl’s attention by flaunting their body. They not-so-subtly drop a spoon and bend over to pick it up, giving Twyl a full view of their behind. <<if !$vs>> When he smirks at them, their face turns red and they scurry away. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. <<elseif $vs>> He ignores them—his eyes never leaving yours for a moment. They scurry away after shooting you a deadly glare. <</if>> "What did you do for work? I assume prophethood doesn’t pay much," he says, reaching for his beverage. "I receive a stipend; all prophets do. It isn’t anything excessive, but it covers my needs," you shrug, pushing down the reminder of your new job, "For extra cash, I’m a courier, both privately and for the Institute, so I do a lot of traveling around Aurora Vista. Sometimes I’d get sent to Thaloria or Muultir, the neighboring territories." "What sort of things would you deliver?" Twyl asks. It doesn’t escape your notice that all of his inquiries are about you and your life on Terra. Meanwhile, you know next to nothing about him! [["What about you, Twyl?"]] [["What’s with all the questions?"]]

<<set $patient += 1>> <<set $twyl_stat += 5>> "Letters, packages, that sort of stuff," you answer easily, then ask before he can respond, "What did you do in Elucido?" He pauses for a moment, his cheerful demeanor dropping into something more sullen. Shifting in his seat, he says, "I was, uh, between gigs in Elucido." "What did you normally do?" you push, his sudden change in attitude raising your eyebrow. "I did some work for the nobility," he says, and you politely ignore how vague that is. Judging by his fitness and the way he held his back straight, you suspect he did a lot more than 'some' work. "But dad needed help here, so…" [["Why did your dad need help?"]] [[Just nod.]]

<<set $secretive += 1>> You narrow your eyes at him. "What’s with all the questions?" "What do you mean?" He asks innocently, but his eyes sparkle with mischief as a smirk threatens to upturn his mouth. "You’re asking all these questions about me, but hardly giving any information about yourself," you say, crossing your arms. "You said you’ve been living in Elucido. Why did you come back to Caligo?" He laughs knowingly as he shifts in his seat, "I used to work for the nobility. But Dad needed help here, so..." Judging by the way he easily sits up right and how fit he is, you suspect that Twyl did a lot more than 'some' work, but you politely ignore how vague he’s being. [["Why did your dad need help?"]] [[Just nod.]]

<<set $sociable += 1>> <<set $twyl_stat += 5>> "He didn’t mention anything to me," you add nonchalantly, biting into your alcachofa-based dish. Initially, you thought you would not survive long in Caligo since the realm is uniformly meatless. Every dish and snack is plant-based. But the garlicky notes of the dish Twyl picked for you immediately melt into your tongue pleasantly, and you savor the tangy tenderness. Tha flavors were fresh, the spices of the dish grown right here in the restaurant. He clears his throat and looks away for a moment before saying, "He and my mum are permanently separating. She went back to Elucido and he can’t handle the store by himself." You swallow your food quickly, feeling your ears burn with embarrassment at getting such a personal answer. You half expected him to change the subject or sugar coat it, but you admire his candor. But this made sense—tensions between this family could explain why Ulfgar hadn’t mentioned Twyl or his mother. From what it sounded like back in the store, they did not separate amicably. "Oh, my prophets," you start, "Twyl, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry like that." "It’s no worries. It’s only fair since I was asking so much about you," Twyl gives you one of his half smiles that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. When the server returns to gather your empty dishes and offers a digestive aid in the form of a warm beverage, the awkwardness dissipates quickly, and the two of you fall into easy conversation. You spend the majority of the afternoon together before you both return to Arcane’s. As you enter the store, a sudden fatigue creeps into your bones as a bout of nausea hits you. You quickly promise Twyl you would see him at the Festival before you head back to your apartment to rest. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S17">><</button>></span>

<<set $reserved += 1>> The conversation shifts naturally, and Twyl asks, "What do you think of Caligo so far? It must be so different from Terra." Swallowing a bite from your alcachofa-based dish, you reply, "It’s fine so far. All of the technology improvements are great." "Has it been difficult finding things to eat?" "Surprisingly, I’ve enjoyed the dishes I’ve had here so far," you say, "Your dad even left me a basket of fruits and other things. I’ve never had brushelbaca before." Twyl stiffens for a moment before his lip tightens in a line. He quickly rolls the expression off, sliding on an easy smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, though, as they squint at you slightly. "And what did you think of it?" "It was tasty," you say, opting to ignore his sudden change in demeanor. Sometimes you’ll say something, and Twyl gets a quizzical look on his face. You figured it was because he was trying to understand your Common. When the server returns to gather your empty dishes and offers a digestive aid in the form of a warm beverage, the awkwardness dissipates quickly, and the two of you spend the majority of the afternoon together before you both return to Arcane’s. As you enter the store, a sudden fatigue creeps into your bones as a bout of nausea hits you. You quickly promise Twyl you would see him at the Festival before you head back to your apartment to rest. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S17">><</button>></span>

<<if settings.notifications>><<notify 3s>><b>Character Stats Updated!</b><</notify>><</if>> <a data-passage="CH2.S17" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/xanderpov.png" style="max-height: 200px"> </a>The main doors to the library slam shut with a finality indicating that $fname has finally left. He is unsure what he was expecting but it certainly was not... that. $mc_Them. The encounter leaves him more shaken than he wants to admit. Xander sits back in his chair, half-glazed amber eyes settling on the network panel embedded in his desk. He taps the screen and pulls up Nimue’s contact record, his finger hovering shakily over the ‘Call’ button. Taking a breath, he taps with more force than necessary and waits with a bated breath as the line rings. He hopes she won't answer, but he knows they need to talk. $fname's arrival changes everything. The line clicks, then a playful, feminine voice says in Latin, "And what time do you call this?" Xander chuckles, leaning his elbows against his desk as if they could shield him from her words, "<i>Magistra</i>—sorry it’s been so long. I’ve been…" he pauses, staring at the wooden box on his coffee table. An intricate pattern decorates it in black and white, and from where he sits he can see that the lid is slightly ajar. "I’ve been really busy—buried under a fuckton of work," he says as his gaze shifts away from the box. "I’m disappointed. Don’t forget, Alexander," Nimue says with a sigh, causing Xander to clench his fists at the use of his full name, "I was doing your job way before you were even born." He makes to say something in defense when the woman continues, "Is this about the Nightbloom?" "Yes," he spits out. "Has it blossomed?" "No." There is only the sound of papers being shuffled before she speaks again, "Is there something you want to say to me?" Xander barely holds back a groan at her tone. She’s smirking. He rolls his eyes—did she really need to fucking gloat right now? He was trying to be serious for fuck's sake. Responsible. Isn't that what everyone wants from him? Expects? He breathes out, "<i>Merda, magistra</i>. You were right, the time is sooner than we thought." "Ah. I thought we had a few more months, at least," she makes a clicking noise of disapproval. "I estimate we will have about two, three if we’re lucky." "The Nightbloom needs to be monitored—there’s no telling when it will blossom, or what will trigger it. We will need to tread carefully. And by we I mean you, of course. I have no doubts that Pantella will be as genial and helpful as always." "Understood. I’ve arranged it so that we will have eyes on the Nightbloom almost every day," Xander ignores her barb and sits back in his chair, arching an eyebrow at the panel, "Do you know how you will handle your part?" A brief pause. She's procrastinating, isn't she? "I still haven’t sorted that out." "You should probably do that soon," Xander says noncommittally. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH2.S18">><</button>></span>

"I’ll be ready when the time comes," there is another pause before Nimue says, "How are you Xander?" "Nope," he says immediately, finger hovering over the end call button. What the fuck? This wasn't a social call. "Not doing that. Not what I called for." "It’s nice to see you’re still as friendly as ever," Nimue remarks, and Xander can almost taste the drip of sarcasm coating her words. "Keep me updated. More frequently this time. I want weekly reports again, plus I have some updates for you," she continues on nonchalantly as a soft clink is heard in the background followed by more shuffling, "The first is about your older brother, he’s returned from <<link "Inferna">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Inferna"); Dialog.wiki("Inferna is a realm located outside the Known universe, existing beyond the reach of ordinary space and time. Inferna consists of five layers, each with its own population. The first three layers are called Hedon: Reinga, Narak, and Gehenna, and are ruled by the Hedonian Matriarchy. The last two layers are said to be home to the Archangels, and are called S’iool."); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>>—" "Send it to me in a message, I really do have work to get to," Xander interjects, and before Nimue can inquire anymore about 'how he is', or give him unsolicited news about his siblings, he says his goodbye and ends the call. Xander pushes himself out of his chair and walks toward the lone window in the room, peering out of it. Below, students bustle toward the building while others walk to the dorms. He turns his gaze up to look out at broader Caligo. If he listened close enough, he could hear the rushing of the river separating Tenebrae from Insomnium, and if he looked far enough, he could see the Vidius Compound. He chews his lower lip, a poor habit he’s had for years, but undetectable as he immediately heals the wounds when he bites too hard. The wooden box behind him beckons, and as he gazes at the velvet blackness of the sky and its glaring moons he is chained to, he exhales. Long. Slow. Mind made up. He knows what he’s about to do is unusual, not to mention illegal and would definitely piss off his mother, yet he can’t help himself. Not when that night still haunts him. Not when it was his choices that led him to this very moment. Not when he can find solace from this fucking place. This suffocating, all-consuming feeling of dread and walking on eggshells. Walking toward the box, he casually flips the top open and pulls out a small, yellow cube from a pouch. It’s light, compact, and achingly comforting in his palm. He pops it into his mouth, savouring the gritty texture, the cloy of the taste. As he lays down on the sofa, he feels the cube melting into small grains until his tongue absorbs it completely. Closing his eyes, he allows himself to spiral. To live in a memory from a time that feels like centuries ago. <i>One last time.</i> <span class="next"><<button "Next Chapter" "CH3.S0">><</button>></span>

!!Thank you for playing! The rest of the game will be released in full when it's completed, sometime in the final quarter of 2025. !!In the meantime, please rate and leave a comment! <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSeMkWWwglrMirMCmrHUbiiU3BKd9PjmkQsb4FNJUig_0MElbg/viewform"><<button "Submit Bugs or Typos Here!">><</button>></a> <a href="https://marblesstorystudio.tumblr.com/"><<button "Submit An Ask!">><</button>></a>

<<if not hasVisited("prologue 3")>>\ Locked <<elseif hasVisited("prologue 3")>>There are hundreds of Ascended Prophets, but only a handful amassed followers. Not all who follow the Ascended Prophets are prophets themselves. Folks train to be a prophet to lead the followers and serve as heralds of the Ascended Prophets word, scripture, literature, teachings, etc. The last prophet ascended 500 years ago, and was a Shadowelf named Aphni.<</if>> <div style="text-align: center;"> <<button "Return" $return>><</button>> </div>

Once, a very long time ago, the four Known realms—Caligo, Inferna, Elucido, and Terra—were united in harmony, their diverse peoples flourishing together. These realms thrived under the watchful gaze of the Archangels, <<link "Eldarbeings">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Eldarbeings"); Dialog.wiki("Beings that exist outside of space and time, and are older than the Known realms. Not much is known, aside from the fact that they had great and vast powers."); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>> with the power of creation. To their cherished children, the Archangels gifted abilities beyond mortal comprehension. Under their care, the realms flourished. The first creatures, shaped by their divine hands, knew neither death nor sickness, living in peace and prosperity. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "true prologue 2">><</button>></span>

But greed—cunning and insidious—is a master of discord. It was Sovereign Heigo, Third of the Vidius, who tipped the delicate balance of the realms while the Archangels were not looking. Driven by an insatiable ambition and a belief in his own superiority, Heigo sought dominion over the realms. Under the guise of unification, he forged an unholy alliance with the <<link "Hedonian Matriarch">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("The Hedonian Matriarchy"); Dialog.wiki("The ruling body that governs the first three layers of Inferna: Reinga, Narak, and Gehenna. Founded on a philosophy of unbridled indulgence and matrilineal authority, the Matriarchy is both a political and cultural system. The Matriarchy commands legions of demons, who inhabit each layer of her dominion, and she enforces her rule through a combination of military might, political intrigue, and a deep connection to the realm’s infernal energies."); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>>, amassing an army of the deadliest vampires and demons. Amidst the chaos, only one dared to defy him: A young, magicless Shadowelf. She saw Heigo’s plan for what it truly was, an evil born of unchecked desire. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "true prologue 2.5">><</button>></span>

Under her guidance, whispers of rebellion grew into a movement of resistence—the Shadowed Hand. The resistence named her as their Hallowed Muse, the one who brought them together when they were at their most divided, the voice to which they rallied in their darkest hour. Under the Shadowelf's leadership, the Shadowed Hand forged alliances with the Elucidan and Terran resistances, ultimately toppling Heigo, scattering his armies, and ending his imperial ambitions. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "true prologue 4">><</button>></span>

But victory came at a devastating cost. Freedom, as the Known realms learned, always demands a price. Heigo’s successor, Sovereign Citrio, burned with vengeance at the slaughtering of his father. Seeking to crush all who defied the Sovereignty and thwarted their plans, he struck down the Shadowelf in the final battle for conquest. Her people were branded traitors, and without its Muse, the resistance crumbled. Once fragilely unified, the Known realms were more divided than ever, their people fractured by mistrust, fear, and the scars of past betrayals. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "true prologue 5">><</button>></span>

As she laid dying, the Shadowelf sang a prophecy—a four-part revelation channeled through the <<link "Consciousness">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Consciousness"); Dialog.wiki("Ascended Prophets are folks who have Ascended to Otherworldliness. They abandoned their real bodies to exist as part of an infinite Consciousness, taking up visceral forms as needed. These beings are revered as gods. They are singular and plural at once and referred to as the Consciousness. It's unknown how many Ascended there are at this point. The names of the first Ascendeds are lost to time immemorial."); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>>, the collective Eldarmind of Ascended beings. The prophecy foretold the Sovereignty’s downfall and named The Four, destined to bring True Unification to the realms. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "true prologue 5.5">><</button>></span>

The prophecy of the Quartet faded into tales of legend, and the realms were forever changed. Yet the Shadowelf’s sacrifice endured. Though magicless, she was the last being to Ascend, her heroism, wisdom, and conviction earning her a place in the Consciousness. Even now, her name lingers on the tongues of those who remember, a whisper of hope and a lament for what was lost: <div style="text-align: center;"> [[Aphni.|title page quote]] </div>

It was not the elf's lack of magic that set her apart, but instead her unshakable determination and her rare ability to unite those around her. Her words carried a clarity that pierced through fear, inspiring courage where despair had taken root. She turned fractured resistance into a single force, drawing strength from the hope of others. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "true prologue 3">><</button>></span>

The Archangels, devastated by Heigo’s betrayal and the corruption of their gifts, withdrew from the Known realms. In their grief, they revoked immortality and retreated to Si’ool, their home deep within the layers of Inferna. This event, known as the Rebalancing, rippled through existence. Creatures beyond a certain age disintegrated as the gift of eternal life was revoked. Lifespans shortened, and sickness, greed, and strife took root in the fabric of the realms. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "true prologue 6">><</button>></span>

"I can talk and I’m fine," you shoot back, your upper lip curling at their nosiness. The person rolls their eyes at your tone, "You’re clearly not from here. Just because we have low crime rates doesn’t mean that nothing can wrong." Their words fill you with discomfort as they take a seat next to you. You continue to watch them, warily moving a little away from them. They laugh, revealing two fangs decorated with tooth gems. A vampire. It’s now that you acknowledge how beautiful they are. Thick braids fall over their shoulder, and the pattern drawn on their head is a mystery hidden underneath the hood of their cloak. The warm amber glow in their eyes creates a shadow that emphasizes their cheekbones and elongates their round face. They laugh at your sudden stiffness. “You don’t have to worry about me, I was making a general statement.” "Ah, I see," you sit there awkwardly, still on your guard. "So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong with you?" they ask again, their gaze turning on you analytically. [["Nothing, I just ate something weird."]] [["I’m experiencing withdrawal effects from a medicine I take."]]

You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck where the pain trailed down from the back of your head. "Sorry, I’m just feeling out of it," you say. The person nods, "I’ll stay with you until you feel better," They lower themselves down next to you, and their gaze turns to the opposite side of the street, as if scanning for someone. "I guess that’s fine," you say absentmindedly, remembering the feeling of the street calling to you, "It’s obvious—I’m not from around here. Something about this street seemed familiar though. I felt like I needed to be here." The person turns to look at you, “Interesting," they say, their eyes seeming to glow more as they examine your face. They tilt their head, appearing to be lost in a daze. After a moment of silence, they flash a smile at you, revealing the dimples on either side of their cheeks and a fang poking out from under their lip. A vampire. It’s now that you acknowledge how beautiful they are. Thick braids over their shoulder, and the pattern drawn on their head is a mystery hidden underneath the hood of their cloak. The glow of their light amber eyes cast a shadow on their face that highlights their cheekbones, elongating their round face. You give them a nervous smile back. "What’s wrong, though?" they ask again, their gaze softens and their eyes reduce in brightness. [["Nothing, I just ate something weird."]] [["I’m experiencing withdrawal effects from a medicine I take."]]

<<set $reserved += 1>> "Thanks for your help," you say before turning around to go up the stairs. Ulfgar stops you by reaching his hand out, "Oh! Before I let you go for the night, here..." He pulls a pouch out of his pocket, handing it over to you. "The contacts I sent before were just temporary, you probably won’t be able to wear those again. I’ve included a fresh set with an extended wear time—you’ll be able to sleep with these in." He rummages in his pocket for a moment before presenting a small, gold key and handing it to you. You take both items, and gently shake the pouch in your hand, noting that it’s heavy for just a pair of contacts. "Do you have any questions before I close the shop for the night?" he asks as he rests his hands on his hips. [[I have questions.]] [[I have no questions.|CH1.S4]]

<<set $sociable += 1>> "I guess this is me," you say with a smile. Ulfgar returns your smiling, nodding, "Before I let you go for the night, here," He pulls a pouch out of his pocket, handing it over to you. "The contacts I sent before were just temporary, you probably won’t be able to wear those again. I’ve included a fresh set with an extended wear time. You can sleep with these new ones in." He rummages in his pocket for a moment before presenting a small, gold key and handing it to you. You take both items, and gently shake the pouch in your hand, noting that it’s heavy for just a pair of contacts. "Do you have any questions before I close the shop for the night?" Ulfgar prompts as you take both items, and gently shake the pouch in your hand, noting that it’s heavy for just a pair of contacts. [[I have questions.]] [[I have no questions.|CH1.S4]]

Twyl Stat: <<print $twyl_stat>> Xander Stat: <<print $xander_stat>> Pantella Stat: <<print $pantella_stat>> Candid: <<print $candid>> Secretive: <<print $secretive>> Reserved: <<print $reserved>> Sociable: <<print $sociable>> Patient: <<print $patient>> Impatient: <<print $impatient>> Perception: <<print $perception>> Insightful: <<print $insightful>> Observant: <<print $observant>> Mannerisms: <<print $mannerisms>> Disclosure: <<print $disclosure>> Prudish: <<print $prudish>> Amorous: <<print $amorous>> They: <<print $mc_they>> Them: <<print $mc_them>> Their: <<print $mc_their>> Theirs: <<print $mc_theirs>> Themself: <<print $mc_themself>> Plural: <<print $mc_plural>> Is: <<print $mc_is>> Was: <<print $mc_was>> 's: <<print $mc_s>> They're: <<print $mc_theyre>> Has: <<print $mc_has>>

"I do, actually," you say, your expression turning into curiosity. [["Why are Shadowelves treated so different than anyfolk else?"]] [["How are nightflowers grown if there is no sun?"]] [["Did my parents ever mention why my core developed this way?"]] [["What were my parents doing in Caligo that they would need to lease an apartment?"]] [[I have no questions.|CH1.S4]]

"Why are Shadowelves treated so different than anyfolk else?" you ask, recalling the event at the Portal Hub a few hours earlier. Ulfgar lets out a sigh, and shakes his head. "A very long time ago, the Shadowelves rose up against the Sovereign of the time, Heigo Vidius. Heigo was attempting to unite Known realms, but the Shadowelves did not want to open Caligo up to the realms. They were led by the Treasoner Aphni, a Shadowelf," He shifts slightly on his feet, shoulders tense as his arms come across his chest, "She killed Heigo and in turn was killed by Citrio, Heigo’s <<link "Successor">> <<script>> Dialog.setup("Successor"); Dialog.wiki("The Sovereign’s Successor is selected after the Sovereign begins having children. Children are tested at birth until one is positive for the mysterious genetic factor. Once a Successor is appointed, the Sovereign stops testing their children."); Dialog.open(); <</script>> <</link>>. After that, Sovereign Citrio marked all the Shadowelves as treasoners." "Is that why they require more notice to leave Caligo and less to come back?" you inquire, remembering how different the processing times on the application were. "Yes, the Sovereign believes they are too dangerous to leave Caligo so they have to be vetted more carefully than others." "And what do you think?" Ulfgar pauses, his eyes shooting up to yours. In a careful tone, he says, "I trust Sovereign Emilia’s judgment. She is only trying to keep us safe. Especially after a Shadowelf recently assassinated the Last Successor, Eros." You nod, accepting this with a hint of scrutiny. That child at the portal did not seem dangerous to you, but it has not been long since the Last Successor was murdered and a new one from the family appointed as the replacement—an unprecedented occurrence. All three realms shook with the Sovereign’s fury when her son was lost. It was quite scary, but the earthquakes did not last long on Terra, thankfully. [[I have questions.]] [[I have no more questions.|CH1.S4]]

"How are nightflowers grown if there is no sun?" Ulfgar chuckles, "Well, if you want science, the flowers here only bloom under the twin moons." "And if I don’t want science?" "Then I would say it’s magic," his face almost splits with a proud grin, and you can see where Twyl gets his dazzling smile from, "Pure Caligan magic." [[I have questions.]] [[I have no more questions.|CH1.S4]]

"No," he says immediately, his expression unreadable, "I was not aware you had a condition to be managed." "Oh," you say, slightly put off by the finality in his tone. "Any more questions?" he prompts, giving you a fatherly smile. [[I have questions.]] [[I have no more questions.|CH1.S4]]

"They were researchers, as you know," Ulfgar says, "They spent some time here in Caligo studying the effects of the nightflowers on various races. I don’t know the extent of their research, though." "I think I saw a paper or something they published," you nod, "They wanted to prove that Elven races would require different dosages because of how different their genetic makeup was." "That’s correct, before they published that, Terran doctors only prescribed the standard dosage for humans to everyfolk," Ulfgar says, "That’s part of the reason why lots of folks migrated here for their medicine." [[I have questions.]] [[I have no more questions.|CH1.S4]]

<<set $chapter to "chapter three">> <div style="text-align: center;"> <a data-passage="CH3.S1" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/ch3.s0.png" style="max-height: 600px"> </a> </div>

<a data-passage="CH3.S1" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/twylpov.png" style="max-height: 200px"> </a> <<audio chapter3 play>> This morning’s argument with Ulfgar had left a bitter taste in Twyl’s mouth. His father’s probing questions about his mother had stung, pushing boundaries that Twyl wasn’t ready to cross. He steals a glance at Ulfgar as they work around each other in tense silence—Twyl cleaning the counter, his movements almost robotic, and Ulfgar balancing his register, his brow furrowed with thought. <i>Where is she living? Does she work at the Academy again? Who does she spend time with? Does your sister know where she frequents?</i> Twyl had refused to answer any of them, though the questions gnawed at him, biting at the edges of his restraint. He didn’t know the answers, and worse, he wasn’t sure if he even cared. The distance between him, his mother, and his twin sister was as wide as a chasm, and Twyl had long accepted that it was their choice to make. His sister had chosen their mother, and he had chosen their father. His mind wanders back to their conversation. He understood Ulfgar’s pain, he wasn’t heartless. Ulfgar had just lost his wife of over three decades. Their marriage, once strong, had long ago soured, frayed by neglect and infidelity. Twyl had seen it, heard the arguments, the silences that stretched on for days, and in some ways, he had accepted that their marriage had been over long before Ulfgar had. He was like a dead leaf clinging to a branch long past its time, stubborn and unwilling to fall. But as much as Twyl understood Ulfgar’s heartache, he couldn’t deny his own. His father was still healing, but so was he. It had been a year since he was dismissed from his post, a year since he had last spoken to Ahanna. He could not even look her in the eye when he left. The wound had not fully healed. Time had not yet softened the ache, and the bitter memory of it lingered like an unwelcome shadow. And here Ulfar was, allowing his own grief to bleed into their already strained relationship. A chime from their communicators breaks through his thoughts. He glances at the screen, his brows knitting together. The notification is brief but urgent. <b>$fname’s blood pressure has dropped below normal.</b> Twyl’s head snaps to Ulfgar, but his father’s face is unreadable. Before he could say anything, another notification pings, louder this time. <b>$fname requests urgent help.</b> Ulfgar’s eyes widen as he checks the message. Without a moment’s hesitation, he pushes past Twyl and heads toward the door at a speed Twyl had never seen from him. Ulfgar, who always took his time, no matter the urgency of a situation, was now moving faster than Twyl had ever known him to. The sight was almost comical. But Twyl doesn’t laugh, not this time. He, too, is already in motion, his heart pounding with the weight of the situation. His mind races, wondering what kind of trouble $fname is in. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S2">><</button>></span>

<a data-passage="CH3.S1" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/yourpov.png" style="max-height: 200px"> </a> You wake with a gag, and your intestines twist violently as a wave of heat hits you like a sudden fever, creeping up your neck and flushing your cheeks. You shoot out of bed, legs unsteady beneath you, and barely make it to the toilet before your stomach heaves violently. Hues of deep pink and pale purple swirl in the toilet, thick and foggy. The strangely sweet and fruity smell of it makes your stomach churn even more. You sink to the floor, curling your arm protectively around your stomach. The coolness of the tiles contrasts sharply with the clammy dampness of your skin, offering a fleeting relief. But it doesn’t last long. The spinning intensifies, pulling you deeper into a vortex of panic and pain. Your fingers tremble as they press against the cold tile, desperate for an anchor, but all you feel is the weight of the unknown pressing down on you, suffocating and unrelenting. Something is wrong. Something is so very wrong. And it’s not just the nausea or the feverish heat creeping up your spine. It’s deeper, more insidious, gnawing at the edges of your mind. A quiet, terrifying voice whispers that this isn’t just the usual withdrawal sickness. This is something else. The room tilts and spins, the edges of your vision blurring into indistinct shapes, and you feel [[confused]] [[alone]] [[miserable]]

There’s nothing to do but try to pick yourself up, though the effort feels like too much. Gathering up every bit of strength, you crawl back to your bedroom on all fours. The room distorts into a kaleidoscope of colors, worsening the heavy inertia that drags at you. Your limbs grow leaden, finally giving out as you collapse in front of the bed. A soft ping echoes from the room, followed by the distant hum of the network. Callum’s even voice filters through, muffled and far away. "Sure, whatever," you mumble, too drained to process whatever the hell it’s saying. You roll onto your side, fatigue gripping your muscles and pulling you into sleep just as a searing heat spreads through your gut. Moments—or hours, who knows—later, you are roused by faint movement in the living room. A flicker of awareness sparks, but it’s quickly extinguished as your body refuses to respond. Through the haze, you glimpse two figures rushing toward you. Their identities blur into shadows, swallowed by darkness as you sink back into unconsciousness. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S4">><</button>></span>

<a data-passage="CH3.S1" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/twylpov.png" style="max-height: 200px"> </a> The lock clicks, and Twyl and Ulfgar struggle to enter the apartment. Twyl steps aside, letting his father move through the cramped space first. Ulfgar checks the bathroom before rushing into $fname’s bedroom, with Twyl close behind. They find $fname sprawled on the floor, face drained of life, head tilted, a pinkish ooze trailing from the corner of ?mctheir mouth. Ulfgar moves swiftly, lifting $fname onto the bed while Twyl pulls the covers up around them. Ulfgar presses a hand to $fname’s clammy forehead as his brow furrows. The skin beneath his palm burns and chills at once. He glances at the pink residue staining $mc_their mouth, his frown deepening. None of the medications he prescribed were pink—or capable of causing this. "What’s wrong with $fname?" Twyl asks worriedly, his voice tightening. "Only thing that makes sense is withdrawal," Ulfgar mutters, pulling a medscanner from his pocket and holding it over $fname’s forehead. It beeps, flashing an alarming red, "Yep. Withdrawal." "Withdrawal?" Twyl takes a half step back, his face twisting in confusion, "From what? Tamping potions don’t cause withdrawal, not like this." "I don’t know," Ulfgar admits, his tone sharp with irritation, "But it seems our guest is good at keeping secrets." He wipes at the corner of $fname’s mouth with a napkin, his expression unreadable. "I told you to make nice with them." "I did," Twyl shoots back defensively, "We had lunch yesterday." "So how did you not know $fname was sick?" Ulfgar demands, his hands resting on his hips in a gesture of exasperation. Twyl bristles, disbelief flashing in his eyes. Was he seriously blaming him? Maybe, somehow, this was partially his fault—but not like this. "?mcThey seemed fine. Lucid. Even... lively," Twyl retorts, flinging a hand in frustration. Ulfgar sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I'm going to put together a withdrawal pack." He turns and leaves the room without another word. Twyl stares after his father, incredulous, before his gaze shifts back to $fname. He hesitates, then sits on the edge of the bed. $fname shifts faintly in ?mctheir sleep, caught in some dream, a crease etched between ?mctheir brows. Guilt twists in his gut, sharp and unrelenting. He pushes it aside, his eyes scanning for injuries. Finding none, he tucks the covers more securely around ?mcthem and rises. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S5">><</button>></span>

<<audio chapter3 fadeout>> In the bathroom, Twyl inspects the vomit in the toilet before flushing it, then grabs a clean rag and searches through the cabinets for the essential oils he stashed there before $fname’s visit. His gaze lands on the welcome basket in the kitchenette as he walks back to the bedroom, and a small smile flickers across his face. Most of the snacks are gone—a good sign. He makes a mental note to restock it later. He administers a few drops of lavandula oil on the compress as he walks into the bedroom. $fname has stilled, though the tension between ?mctheir brows remains. Twyl gently presses the compress to ?mctheir forehead, his touch careful. He applies balm to ?mctheir cracked lips and sets it aside. For a moment, he simply watches $fname with a soft expression. <<if !$vs>> Twyl doesn’t remember $fname being… well, like this. The air around ?mcthem is steeped in misery and melancholy, a stark contrast to the expressive, carefree child Twyl once knew. The one who stood up for him against bullies, who befriended him without any hidden agenda. It was clear ?mcthey didn’t recognize him, and yesterday, ?mcthey seemed surprised that Twyl wanted to spend time with ?mcthem. Twyl can’t blame ?mcthem for that. He never made the effort either. He never tried. He was too busy running away from home. "Has life been unkind to you, old friend?" Twyl murmurs, adjusting the compress on ?mctheir forehead. "I’m here now." Twyl can’t shake the unease that tightens in his chest as he watches his oldest friend, laid up in bed, so small and vulnerable. Had he truly not noticed anything off yesterday? Or was he just too eager to have his friend back? Regardless, he means what he says. He’s here now. And he’s ready to be the steadying force that ?mcthey clearly need. Then maybe, just maybe, they can be best friends again. <<elseif $vs>> The air around ?mcthem is thick with misery and melancholy, a stark contrast to the expressive, carefree kid Twyl once knew. The one who stood up for him against bullies, who befriended him with no strings attached. And yet yesterday, ?mcthey seemed surprised that Twyl wanted to spend time with ?mcthem. Twyl aches to reach out, to smooth the crease between ?mctheir brows, to gather ?mcthem into his arms and will ?mcthem healthy again. But he can’t. He won’t push ?mcthem, especially given this bout of sickness. Especially when $fname doesn’t even seem to remember him. He can’t blame ?mcthem for that. After all, he never tried to reach out. He never made the effort. He was too busy running away from home. He settles for adjusting the herbal compress on ?mctheir forehead. "What happened to you, my dearest friend?" he murmurs, his voice tender in a way only ever reserved for ?mcthem. "I’m sorry I haven’t been there." His chest tightens as he watches ?mcthem make a small whimper, looking so small and vulnerable. Had he really not noticed something was off yesterday? Or was he too distracted by how much prettier ?mcthey had grown? His mouth forms a thin line. No, he can’t push. But he will do what he does best: protect. He’ll ensure ?mctheir recovery goes smoothly. And maybe, just maybe, ?mcthey will give him the chance to make this right.<</if>> <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S6">><</button>></span>

<<audio angeldream1 play>> <a data-passage="CH3.S6" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/yourpov.png" style="max-height: 200px"> </a> You find yourself standing in a vast, shadowy forest, the trees looming above like ancient sentinels. A cold, unnatural wind whispers through the branches, carrying the faint scent of damp flowers and moss. The air feels heavy with secrets just beyond your grasp. As you move through the dense undergrowth, strange flickers of movement catch your eye in the darkness. The shadows twist and writhe, almost alive, watching you. You look down, facing your palms up. The shape of your hands is vague and distorted. They blur as you wave them slightly. You rub them together, but there’s no feeling or sensation. Your body moves without your command, and you realize you are merely a conscious passenger in this dream you can't control. Your gaze shifts back up. A small, glowing figure darts past, its light flickering like a beacon. Something about it pulls at you. Your body screams at you to chase it. You stumble after it, running awkwardly as your mind tries to comprehend how your body moves without your active control. But you have no choice. It’s important. It’s life or death. Wait—but why? A child’s distant laugh echoes through the trees, sharp and sudden. Your skin prickles with unease. You’re definitely being watched. The forest clears as you stumble to a stop, revealing a small glade bathed in silvery moonlight. At the center, a figure cloaked in shadow stands motionless. Its features are lost in darkness, but the air around it hums with an unsettling anticipation. It whispers urgently, but the words don’t reach your ears. The whispers grow louder as you approach. The figure opens its hand, and you can see that its fingers are made of dark, smokey tendrils that lash out around it. You should be afraid, jarred at least. But there’s something strangely welcoming about the gesture. Drawn in, you step closer, the whispers intensifying around your ears. You can’t understand them. You reach out, trembling, to meet the figure’s hand. The moment your skin touches its shadowy form, the sky above you rips open, like a curtain pulled back to reveal a dazzling aurora. Colors explode across the sky—greens, pinks, blues, and purples swirling together in fluid motion. It feels as if the entire sky is alive, pulsating with endless possibilities. It almost feels like magic. But given your condition, that can’t be right. Can it? You yank your hand back, shielding your eyes from the light. But it’s too late. Your body, your dream, is ripped away, erased in an instant. The figure’s whispers fade, leaving behind only scrambled echoes in your mind, distorted in a language you don’t recognize: [["UEES TOM QNE MIS"|CH3.S7]]

<a data-passage="CH3.S1" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/yourpov.png" style="max-height: 200px"> </a> It feels like you’ve been asleep for days when you finally wake fully. The remnants of your dream scatter into the recesses of your mind, waiting for another time to torment you. A cold wave of dread fills your stomach before the memory even hits you—then you realize the contractions have stopped. Your eyes reluctantly open, and you feel the dryness in your throat, your eyelashes stiff with crusted sleep. Twyl stands by the window, his back turned to you. Ulfgar enters the room, rushing to your side as soon as he notices your eyes are wide open. "Prophets, I was so worried!" he exclaims, gently replacing the rag on your head with something fresher, a soft, powdery smell lingering on the compress. As you attempt to sit up, Twyl is instantly at your side, his hand pressing gently but firmly on your shoulder to keep you down. "You shouldn’t sit up yet," he says, his voice strained with an undercurrent of warmth. When you relax back into the bed, he sits on the edge beside you. "Why didn’t you mention you were having withdrawal?" he asks quietly, his ocean-colored eyes searching yours. [["Um… it never came up?"]] [["I didn’t realize it would get this bad."]] [["I didn’t want to bother you."]]

<<if settings.notifications>><<notify 3s>><b>Character Stats Updated!</b><</notify>><</if>> Ulfgar speaks up, his voice cutting through the tension. "We were just worried when we found you unconscious," he says, his words measured and calm, yet the strain in his expression betrays his own unease. "We care about you, $fname. You can be honest with us. Whatever it is, we’re here to help." You understand their concern, but part of you bristles at the idea. These two are strangers to you—why would you burden them with your personal problems? You’ve always dealt with it alone. Still, the weight of regret settles under Ulfgar’s fatherly disapproval. "I’ve been rationing my meds," you admit, almost whispering. "I take a dose every other day, and with that schedule, I have about three months left." "Were you able to get it refilled? I could go pick it up," Twyl offers, standing from his place on your bed. "N-no, that’s unnecessary," you say quickly. Twyl raises an eyebrow at your refusal, "What I mean is... the potions won’t be ready for another two months." Ulfgar and Twyl exchange a glance, their frowns deepening as lines of concern etch on their faces. "Why not?" Ulfgar asks, his voice puzzled. "A potion to stabilize a core shouldn’t take long. It usually takes me a few hours…" You groan inwardly, realizing that your unique condition must have something to do with it. "My concoction is different from what is standard, then. I needed a prescription, and only the previous Dean of Herbalism knew the ingredients." Ulfgar’s skeptical look deepens, but he nods anyway. "You must have some sort of resistance to the over-the-counter ingredients then," he says, scratching his head. "That explains why none of my recipes worked for you." You shrug nonchalantly, your gaze drifting to Twyl. At the mention of the Dean, his jaw tightens, and his arms cross over his broad chest. He stares out the window, his posture stiffening. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S10">><</button>></span>

Your mind feels sluggish, like wading through thick fog, every thought slipping through your grasp before it can fully form. Maybe you shouldn’t have waited this long to refill your medicine, but you’d been taking it nonetheless—most of it, anyway. You hadn’t imagined the side effects would be this devastating. But then again, there have been worse side effects. Ones that left scars you can still see if you looked too long in the mirror. Property destruction, shattered trust, and burned bridges. You shove those memories down for now, not ready to destroy what is left of your self esteem. As the confusion swirls within you, a quiet panic begins to bloom. Did you miss something? Did you ignore the warnings, the signs? Reva’s words echo faintly in your mind, her voice now more a ghost than a guide: <i>"Put some time aside to deal with this, or your body will choose that time for you."</i> But you’d ignored her, hadn’t you? Drowned her out with the chaos of everyday life and the comforting lie that you could keep this under control. And now here you are, sick and spinning, every shaky breath a reminder of just how fragile your body—and your choices—have become. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S3">><</button>></span>

You were sick here, in this sunless land, with nothing and no one coming for you. Lying here on the cold floor with the remnants of vomit clinging to your lips, the reality of it all crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your body trembles uncontrollably, the fluorescent bathroom light casting harsh, unforgiving shadows on the walls. The weight of your loneliness presses down like a physical force, heavy and suffocating. Each breath feels like a monumental task, shallow and ragged, a reminder of how fragile you’ve become. The silence is deafening, a cruel mirror reflecting the thoughts you’ve tried so hard to bury. They rise up now, sharp and unrelenting: You can’t handle this. You’re not strong enough. You’ve never been strong enough. That you’re basically falling apart now is evidence. You try to focus, to ground yourself, but the walls seem to shift and bend, closing in tighter with every passing moment. They’re mocking you, these walls—pulsing brightly with their light, but still standing taller and steadier than you ever could. Even with the medicine. The world beyond feels impossibly far away, a blurry, unattainable dream. You’re not part of it anymore. You’re here on this cold floor, where time feels infinite and every second stretches into eternity. And as you lay there, alone and trembling, you wonder—not for the first time—if anyone would even notice if you disappeared completely. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S3">><</button>></span>

Your body feels like a shell, emptied and brittle, as if even the slightest breeze could shatter you completely. The ache in your stomach spreads, sharp and unrelenting, but the physical pain is almost a reprieve from the crushing void that settles in your chest. The air feels heavy, thick like molasses, pressing down on you until even breathing becomes a chore. A dark thought creeps in, unbidden and unwelcome: <i>Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it all just… stopped.</i> But then another wave of heat rushes over you, jolting you out of the spiral, and you clutch your stomach tighter, as if holding yourself together by sheer force of will. Miserable, indeed. But alive. For now. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S3">><</button>></span>

<<audio angeldream1 fadeout>> <<audio chapter3 fadein>> <a data-passage="CH3.S1" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/twylpov.png" style="max-height: 200px"> </a> Twyl watches over $fname until Ulfgar rushes back into the room, carrying a withdrawal pack: three IV supplements, a detox pouch, and several oral medications. He steps aside, allowing his father to take his place at $fname’s side. Twyl observes as Ulfgar carefully positions ?mctheir arm and sanitizes the crease where elbow meets forearm. The musty odor of the solution dissipates in the air as Ulfgar slides a needle cleanly into $fname’s arm, securing a tube to a small, corked vial. He releases the clamp, and a yellow liquid pulses steadily into ?mctheir vein. Twyl watches his father repeat the process a few more times until all the IV supplements are administered. Slowly, $fname’s body melts fully into the bed, their features softening as the tension drains from their muscles. ?mcTheir jaw relaxes, a clear sign the medicine is taking effect. "Let ?mcthem rest. Want first watch?" Ulfgar asks, glancing over his shoulder as he gently places the detox pouch beside $fname’s head. The scent of dried lavandula, salvia, and dreamleaf fills the room as he applies a few drops of activating solution. "Yeah, I’ll do it," Twyl replies, not adding that he needs a break from his father for a while. "What do I give ?mcthem?" Ulfgar’s instructions come in a steady, calming rhythm, and Twyl mentally catalogs each step. He watches the slow rise and fall of $fname’s chest, a sign that the worst of the withdrawal storm has passed. The soft scents of lavandula and dreamleaf drift through the room, mingling with his father’s quiet voice. "You know what to do," Ulfgar says more softly now, the earlier tension in his voice eased, "I’ll see you later." Twyl nods, wordlessly. He watches his father leave the room, leaving him alone with $fname’s steady breathing and the moonlight streaming in through the blinds. The scent of the herbs seems to fill the room, soothing both $fname’s body and Twyl’s frayed nerves. The herbs offer more than physical healing—they seem to settle something inside him too. His father really does know his stuff. The hours stretch on, silent except for $fname’s breathing and the occasional noise from the shop below. Twyl thinks about what comes next—how to regain $fname’s trust, how to help ?mcthem remember. He settles back into the chair at $fname’s bedside, still as the moonlight pours across the room. It feels like a long wait, but he knows waiting is all he can do for now. They’ve waited this long to be reunited; what's a few more hours? He’ll guard their peace, and when ?mcthey wake up, he’ll be there to support ?mcthem, and remind ?mcthem of their bond. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S8">><</button>></span>

<<set $secretive += 1>> "It never came up," you say quietly, your voice tentative, the words feeling like an excuse because they are. You avert your gaze, unwilling to hold his steady, searching eyes. The weight of his concern presses into you like an unspoken judgment. It never did come up, and you did not offer the information, either. But you aren’t about to say that out loud. Twyl’s brows furrow, the confusion clear in his expression. "What does that mean?" he asks, his tone edged with frustration. "You had to fill out a medical form before entering Caligo. You had to mention something like this. It’s not a small thing, $fname." A sharp breath escapes his lips as his gaze sharpens, his frustration shifting into something deeper—something more urgent, though he doesn’t say it outright. He suddenly rubs his temple, his fingers pressing into the skin as if trying to quell the sudden spike of emotion. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S9">><</button>></span>

<<set $reserved += 1>> "I didn’t realize it would get this bad," you admit, your voice quiet and hesitant. The words hang between you and Twyl, thick with awkwardness and shame.<<if $vs is "romance">>You feel a pang of guilt at the look on his face, like you’ve kicked a foxpup.<<elseif $vs is "friendship">>You avoid his gaze, too overwhelmed to look him in the eye.<</if>> There’s a knot in your chest that won’t loosen, tightening with every second you don’t say more. Twyl’s expression darkens. "How could you not realize?" he asks, his voice quiet but strained, as if the question itself feels like a blow. "If you’ve been struggling like this, why didn’t you say anything?" His tone is softer than you expected, but there’s a crack of frustration under it, like he’s trying to understand, trying to help, but there’s something in your silence that blocks him. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S9">><</button>></span>

<<set $reserved += 1>> "I didn’t want to bother you," you mutter, the words coming out softer than you intended, as if they were more of a justification than an explanation. Your gaze drops to your hands, unable to meet either of their eyes. The weight of your silence seems so much heavier now, the distance it created feeling far more real than it ever did before. Twyl scoffs, his frustration evident. He shakes his head, lips pressing into a thin line. The sound of his exhale is sharp, a quiet dismissal of your reasoning. "Bother us?" His voice rises slightly, frustration making it hard for him to hide his disbelief. "You really think telling us about this would have <i>bothered</i> us? Bothered <i>me</i>?" His eyes narrow, as if trying to piece together your silence in a way that still doesn’t quite make sense to him. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S9">><</button>></span>

"As it turns out, I’ll need to extend my stay in Tenebrae," you say, looking back to Ulfgar. "Would you be able to assist me in requesting an extension for my portal pass?" "Of course," he replies kindly, nodding. "But you should sharpen your Latin. I won’t always be around to translate." "Agreed," you reply, taking the pills he hands you along with the cup of tea. You grimace at the sharp, earthy smell, "What is this?" "These meds will keep your withdrawal symptoms at bay," Ulfgar explains, meeting your eyes briefly before organizing the bottles of pills, "It’s not a cure for your core, but it should hold you over until you get your refill. Think of it as a plaster—a temporary solution." You nod, swallowing the pills and sipping the tea. Surprisingly, it’s smooth and sweet. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you fight the pull of sleep. "Are they supposed to make me sleepy?" you murmur. "Yes," Ulfgar replies confidently, "Your body is recovering from the withdrawal. You’ll be at 100% in a few days," he pauses, giving you a steady look. “Oh… okay…” you are already fading away. "Take these in the order I’ve arranged them. And $fname," his voice softens. "Please, don’t be afraid to let us know if something is wrong. Persephone was family—so that means you are too." You give him a small smile, and Twyl, having turned away, watches quietly as Ulfgar promises to check in tomorrow and heads back downstairs. As your eyelids grow heavier, Twyl rounds the bed, leaning against the doorframe. "Why can’t you just have your potions delivered to Terra?" he asks quietly, his voice laced with curiosity. "You’d be much more comfortable there." "Export fees," you mumble sleepily, and when Twyl gives a loud ‘huh,’ you say louder, slurring slightly, "I’m too poor to afford them. I’ll be working for the Dean until I can pay it off." Twyl’s shoulders raise, his face tightening. He opens his mouth, but his words get lost as sleep pulls you under. A shift in his movement follows, but by then, it’s too late. You’re already slumbering. The lights flicker out. And thanks to Ulfgar, the dreams don’t follow you this time. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S11">><</button>></span>

On the way out of the apartment, you’d caught your reflection in the mirror, and could barely recognize the gaunt being looking back at you. Ulfgar’s intervention had helped a lot, but a feeling of groggy malaise remained, and you had little appetite. The memory of being sick causes your stomach to turn, and the very thought of food was unthinkable. Still, you nibbled on a snack from the freshly restocked basket in your apartment. You make a mental note to thank Ulfgar for restocking. The worst part about being sick was that you missed the Caius Festival and the festivities that came with it. And most importantly—a chance to explore Tenebrae after curfew. The vampires and demons who roamed the city must get up to something while the rest of Tenebrae sleep. Grumbling to yourself about being sick, you push open the library doors with more force than necessary. Pantella immediately greets you, floating down from one of the towering bookshelves. "$fname! You’re here," they say, fluttering to a stop in front of you with an armful of tomes. "Well, we had an agreement. What do you have for me?" you reply, meeting their welcoming smile with one of your own. Following Pantella as they float toward their desk, you note the growing pile of papers. You gesture toward them. "Need help sorting this?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. Pantella lets out a sigh. "No, those are papers from Xander’s classes. I have to grade them." "I could help if you have an answer key," you offer, wanting to lighten their burden. After all, they vouched for you. "I actually have another task for you," Pantella says, smiling. "But I appreciate it. Come with me." Pantella bypasses the staircase and floats up to the room’s second level. When you climb the stairs to meet them, they are holding a large tote bag. The small lab in front of the window overlooks greater Tenebrae. In the distance, the vague outline of a sharp spire pierces the skyline and disappears in the inky blackness. The lab is clean and clutter-free, a sharp contrast to the rest of the library. A nearby table is filled with paper bags, each bearing a label and sealed shut. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S12">><</button>></span>

<<audio chapter3 fadein>> "This is where we fill the minor orders," Pantella explains, gesturing toward the paper bags. "Here are today’s deliveries. I sorted them so you only have to travel within Tenebrae. Xander will handle the deliveries for the Crimson Court orders." You frown at this. "I can handle those. He doesn’t need to bother himself with it." Pantella shakes their head immediately, their braid swaying as they do. "Members of the Court may interact with anyone they please, but no one may approach them without the Sovereign’s permission. Xander will work with one of their couriers. This would happen even if you weren’t here. Even I am not allowed to interact with them." You nod in understanding and glance at the paper bags, "Are these all in Latin?" "Yes," Pantella says, and before you can speak up, they hand you a rectangular device. You take the strange contraption gingerly, holding it by the edges and examining its sides. Pantella giggles, and your cheeks flush. "What is this?" you grumble, tapping the glass face. The device lights up, and you squint, holding it away from your face. Pantella takes it back, pressing a button on the side to turn off the light. "This is a tablet. I assume you’ve never used one." "All I have is this," you say, pulling out your communicator. Pantella cringes at the sight of it. "That old thing?" they exclaim, their eyes widening. "I have no use for fancy contraptions." Pantella sighs, rolling their eyes. "Well, that won’t do. You should consider upgrading while you’re here. It’s much cheaper than on Terra. For now, take this tablet." They hand the device back and float toward the table. "It’s essentially a large communicator. You can use it to take notes, sync to the Network, and even play games. I’ve created a list with the orders translated to Common. Each bag has a corresponding number ID that matches an address on the list." You listen carefully as you try to gauge the weight of the tote. It’s heavy, but you can handle it. Plus it would get lighter as deliveries are completed. "Carrying all of these back into Tenebrae is not going to be fun." <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S13">><</button>></span>

<<if settings.notifications>><<notify 3s>><b>Character Stats Updated!</b><</notify>><</if>> The attentiveness Xander shows has you shuffling your feet. It feels strange, especially coming from the man who barely acknowledged you just a few days ago. "I have been sick," you admit reluctantly. "I was throwing up and had a fever during the Caius Festival. I’m staying with some friends at Arcane’s Apothecary. The owner, Ulfgar, he found me passed out." A flicker of concern crosses Xander’s face, but it vanishes quickly, replaced by his usual stoicism. "You can continue taking the meds this Ulfgar gave you, if they’re helping," he says, turning to Pantella. "Can you get the ingredient list from him?" Pantella nods and begins typing into a nearby panel. "Were you able to contact Nimue?" you ask, hoping for good news. "I did," Xander replies casually, "but we ran out of one of the ingredients in our last batch." Before you can ask more, he continues, "Rhodotus. It takes only a few weeks to grow." You sigh, the disappointment evident on your face. "So I’ll be stuck here in Tenebrae for a while. At this rate, I’m going to miss the Games." Pantella nudges Xander with their shoulder, prompting him to clear his throat. "I have contacts at the Magistrate," Xander says, his voice softening. "I can expedite your extension." Finally, something helpful. Thanks again to Pantella. You take the tote of prescriptions from her and smile. "I appreciate that... Dean Xander." Xander mutters, "One or the other," as he rubs his temple. You smile at his irritation. Let him be frustrated. At least it’s a change from his usual coldness. Pantella leads you to the waystation, a room far from the library. The air hums with energy from the portal, and the sleek metal panels lining the walls catch the dim light. She taps a few controls, activating the portal with a faint blue glow. "Before you transport, there will be prompts—language, destination, and the closest waystation." She swiftly guides you through the setup, and you commit the steps to memory. "Ready when you are," Pantella says, her finger hovering over the final ‘Confirm Transport’ button. "Right,” you say as you step toward the platform. Transport isn’t new to you, though the last time you were transported by the Caligan guards back on Terra, it wasn’t exactly smooth. The thought of your bones being atomized again isn’t a pleasant one. But walking through Tenebrae, lost in a foreign city, would be worse. The sooner you got the meds delivered, the sooner you could resume exploring. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S15">><</button>></span>

Pantella blinks before their eyes bulge, "Have you been walking here? Why didn’t you use a waystation?" You stare blankly, "A what?" They stumble over their words before explaining, "A <i>waystation</i>. It’s like a mini-portal that takes you all over Tenebrae." "Don’t you need magic for that?" There was a similar system on Terra, but they were called waystones and completely operable with magic. Rare and elusive, you’ve only heard of a handful, but none in the South. "Theoretically, you could imbue it with magic to take you elsewhere, but generally, no," they respond casually, as if discussing the weather, "Using magic on it is illegal, anyway." You process this before your jaw drops, "You mean I’ve been walking here and back this whole time when I could have, what, portaled?" Pantella rubs their forehead, muttering something in Latin, but your attention is diverted to the door adjacent to the lab swinging open. The Dean steps out, looking just as tired and weary as when you first saw him. His molten gaze lands on Pantella, and he strides over. He ignores your presence entirely and addresses Pantella in Latin. You pour all your irritation into a glare, but he continues speaking to Pantella as if you’re invisible. After a brief exchange, the two seem to reach a compromise. Then the Dean turns fully toward you, his nose flaring slightly as his eyes flick to your chest and back to your face—a poor attempt at subtlety. He squints at you, leaning forward to examine your face, "Are you sick?" You stagger back, your upper lip curling, "Is that any of your business, Dean?" "Why so formal?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. [["I have not received permission for informality, nor have I given it."]] [["You are an official here. Your title warrants it."]]

You step onto the platform and give your confirmation to Pantella, and the world warps around you, snapping back into focus as the bustling streets of Tenebrae greet you. The air smells of nightflowers mixed with food from street vendors. <<if $outlook is "determination">> As you take in the vibrant scene, a realization hits: you’ve been missing out on so much. The Unity Games, your upcoming promotion, graduation—it was all slipping away. But you can’t dwell on it now. After the last incident, you wonder if delaying your refill set everything off again. You hadn’t noticed the signs until you woke up in the infirmary to an angry Headmaster and a concerned Reva. You push those thoughts aside. Your goal is clear. Pay off your debt, get back on your feet, and nothing—not Xander’s rudeness, not the distractions of Tenebrae—will stop you. <<elseif $outlook is "dread">> A wave of anxiety tightens your chest as you take in the sight. You’re missing out on so much at home—the Unity Games, your promotion, your graduation. You were doing so well, too. The last incident was years ago, caused by an emotional breakdown after your parent’s deaths. Now, you wonder if skipping the refill triggered this. You hadn’t even realized what was happening until you woke up in the infirmary, facing the Headmaster’s wrath and Reva’s concern. The thought of returning to that embarrassment stings. You can almost see Metalia’s mocking grin in your mind. For now, though, you’ll take solace in fading into the background here in Caligo.<</if>> With that resolve, you begin your deliveries. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S16">><</button>></span>

<i>Some Time Later…</i> It surprises you how proficient most Caligans are with Common and how forgiving they are about your lack of their native tongue. In fact, many seem charmed by your earthliness, treating you with a warmth you rarely experienced from Terrans. Some even give you tips for their deliveries! Your fellow Terrans were polite, sure, but never quite this kind. The extra emmies were a nice bonus. The final delivery takes you to a lively street lined with bustling storefronts and vendors hawking goods. Delicious aromas from food carts tempt you, but you push on until you find the address. Building 765—this is it. The structure is larger than Arcane’s, its brick facade framed by clean windows. A luminous sign in Common gleams on the glass door: <div style="text-align: center;"> <a data-passage="CH3.S16" class="link-internal link-image"> <img src="images/corereadersign.png" style="max-height: 400px"> </a> </div> Glancing briefly at the sign, you hesitate before stepping inside, the faint chime of a bell announcing your arrival. The interior is immaculate, filled with the scent of pogostemon and parchment. Polished brass instruments line the walls, glowing faintly in the warm light. Shelves are stacked with jars labeled in multiple languages, and a spiral ramp curls gracefully to a loft overhead. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S17">><</button>></span>

"Hello?" you call out in Terran, unsure where to go. "One moment!" a voice replies in Terran, crisp and formal. A faint whir precedes the sound of soft hydraulics. A moment later, a dwarf in a mechanical wheelchair descends the ramp. The chair is an intricate marvel, all gleaming metal and softly glowing gears. The dwarf is dressed sharply—tan slacks, dark suspenders, a neatly buttoned gray shirt, and a slim tie. Their auburn beard is immaculately trimmed, and round glasses frame keen, intelligent eyes that immediately take you in. "You must be the delivery from Pantella," they say, rolling smoothly to a stop near a low, polished table. "I am," you reply, holding up the package and glancing at your tablet, "You’re Breltin? You use they and them?" They smile faintly, "Correct. And you are?" "$fname," you say, extending a hand. Breltin shakes it lightly but firmly, their hands surprisingly soft for a dwarf. "I trust the travel here from the school wasn’t too taxing?" "Not at all, I used a waystation," you reply casually, glancing around, "This place is incredible. Do you manage it all on your own?" Breltin’s smile deepens slightly. "Manage? No. This isn’t management—it’s a calling." Your curiosity gets the better of you, "What exactly is a core reader?" "A device and a profession," Breltin says, gesturing to the polished brass instruments. "The device measures and maps the structure of your core—your magical essence. And I interpret the results." They place the package on the table with care before turning back to you, "Pantella mentioned you have an unusual situation. If you’d like to share, it could make things easier." You hesitate, but something about Breltin’s calm demeanor sets you at ease, "I was born with an unstable core. I take medicine for it, but no one’s ever been able to tell me why it’s like this." Breltin retrieves a small brass device from their chair’s side pouch. It glows faintly, runes etched along its surface, "This is the core reader. It’s harmless—may I?" You nod hesitantly, and he rolls slightly closer as you take a seat in a nearby chair. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S17.5">><</button>></span>

<<set $patient += 1>> <<set $pantella_stat += 10>> Pantella interjects before Xander can respond, her tone light but cutting. "To be fair, you didn’t introduce yourself to $mc_them." You hold back a grin as Xander turns a sharp look on her, his scowl deepening. Pantella only shrugs, her eyes glinting with mischief, before giving you a knowing smile. It’s a brief but welcome moment of camaraderie—a rare ally in a situation that has felt increasingly off-balance. Xander tsks, a low sound of annoyance escaping him, his top lip curling to reveal a pair of sharp fangs. Ah, so he <i>is</i> a vampire. Somehow, that revelation doesn’t surprise you. "You’ve been sick," he says, his tone flat, matter-of-fact. "I can smell it all over you. Have the withdrawal symptoms finally caught up?" The bluntness of his words stuns you. Your back stiffens as your frustration spikes again. This man has no tact—none at all. "How did you know I was having withdrawal?" you snap, suspicion hardening your tone. You certainly don’t recall telling him anything of the sort. Your eyes narrow as you study him, your mind racing. Has Twyl said something? His behavior had been strange when you left the store earlier—uneasy, as if he knew something he wasn’t saying. And he had seemed oddly familiar with the Dean. Xander waves a hand dismissively, as if your indignation is a trivial matter. "I’m good at my job," he says, his voice carrying the kind of confidence that borders on arrogance. His eyes roam over your figure before he looks back up at your face. "And you have that air of desperation about you." The casual way he says it grates on your nerves, like he’s reading you as easily as the labels on his tinctures. The nerve. You open your mouth to retort, but he cuts you off with words that stop you in your tracks. "I’m your prescribing Herbalist. That means you’re my patient, and you’re under my care—even if you work for me," he says, his voice softening unexpectedly. The usual sternness in his tone gives way to something gentler, almost kind. <<if !$vs>>You scrutinize him carefully, your frustration dampened but not entirely gone. His concern seems genuine, but you’re not ready to trust him—at least, not completely.<<elseif $vs>>Your gaze catches on his eyes—deep amber with flecks of gold, and you see a warmth there you hadn’t noticed before. It makes you falter, your frustration mixing with admiration.<</if>> "Now," he says, his tone firm but gentler than before, "what’s going on?" <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S14">><</button>></span>

<<set $reserved += 1>> <<set $xander_stat += 10>> "You haven’t properly introduced yourself," you say plainly, struggling to keep your irritation in check. To your surprise, he chuckles, his usual scowl melting into a smile—an expression you hadn’t thought him capable of. "Well, I’m Xander, Dean of Herbalism. You may call me Xander, Dean, or Caligo’s Most Handsome Vampire, but I will refer to you as $fname. Does that suffice?" His acridly sweet smile, revealing two sharp fangs, catches you off guard. So, he is a vampire. Of course. Somehow, that tracks. But there is a bite to his eyes that suggest he may not be just any kind of vampire. You stare at him, holding back the sharp words bubbling to the surface. This was the same man who barely spared you a glance the last time you met, his clipped tone and curt dismissal making you feel like an inconvenience rather than someone asking for help. Now, here he is, suddenly flashing fangs and smiles like he’s forgotten how cold he was to you before. "But yes," he says smoothly, interrupting your thoughts, "it is my business. You are my patient." Your frustration boils over. "I’m your courier," you retort, the sneer on your face refusing to budge. "Uhh-uhh," he sings, wagging a finger at you like a parent scolding a child. The condescension in the gesture grates on you further, and you can feel your eye twitch. "You came here asking for my help. That makes you my patient." You open your mouth to argue, but he talks over you without hesitation, stepping closer in a way that makes the space between you feel much smaller than it is. "And as your Herbalist, I have the right to know when you’re unwell. So, what’s going on?" His tone softens slightly, but the tension in his posture and the sharp edge of his words leave no room for argument. <<if !$vs>>You purse your lips, anger and embarrassment warring within you as you try to recover from his sudden shift in demeanor.<<elseif $vs>>You sigh, frustrated but grudgingly seeing the sense in his words.<</if>> <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S14">><</button>></span>

Before you can fully lose yourself in that thought, Breltin reaches into their chair pocket and pulls out a small pouch, shifting your attention. They take your hand and dispense a few emmies in your palm, closing your fingers around them. "For your trouble. Thank you for bringing me medicine," they say kindly, warmth shining in their eyes at you, "Come back anytime for tea." Their words warm you. How kind, to invite you to tea. At the back of your mind, your parents’ warning of danger rings out, but you decide to tune them out. If this is what life outside of Terra was like, and they knew from their time in Caligo, why keep you away? Why tell you it was too dangerous, that Terra was the only place for you? Suddenly, you realize they were always trying to isolate you. But <i>why</i> was always the question. Perhaps they were ashamed of you. Or perhaps they simply wanted to shield you from the inaccessibility of the world. In any case, you were making friends here, folks who could understand you, who didn’t see your difference as a flaw. And that felt worth exploring. Breltin rolls behind one of their workbenches, picking up a device and tinkering with it. You get the message, and quietly exit the shop to step back onto the sidewalk, feeling for the first time in a while, hopeful. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S19">><</button>></span>

<<audio chapter3 fadein>> The apartment door clicks shut softly behind you. For a moment, you stand in the quiet, letting the familiar surroundings wash over you. The hum of the city outside is muffled here, the only sound the soft rustling of air from the conduits embedded in the walls, filling the space with a calming pulse. You take a deep breath and step further into the room, past the couch and toward the large virtual aquarium on the wall. The fish glow softly in the dim light, their luminous bodies drifting lazily through digital water. It’s peaceful, but your hunger wins. You glance at the coffee table in front of the couch, where Ulfgar’s list of rules still sits, a reminder of Tenebrae’s structure. Beside it rests the remote for the network panel, another link to the outside world. Moving toward the panel, you tap a few commands on your communicator, syncing it to the screen. The process is simple, almost automatic, like a ritual. When the beep signals completion, you linger, the soft glow illuminating your face. Technology has become a comforting constant, grounding you when you’ve felt anything but stable. You’ve always struggled to connect with others, always felt like you didn’t quite belong. But here, with the hum of conduits and the soft glow of magic and tech intertwined, it almost feels like you’ve found a place where you can just <i>be</i>. You push the thought aside and head to the kitchenette. The familiar motions of making tea distract your mind for a moment. The kettle clinks softly on the electric stove, and the steady bubbling water offers comfort. Small things feel monumental in moments like these. As you prepare your tea, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the glass of the network panel. It’s your face, gaunt and tired, but something is different now. Maybe it’s the weight of the conversation with Breltin, or maybe it’s the quiet realization that your parents still hold sway over you, even in death. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S20">><</button>></span>

The tea steeps, and you settle onto the couch, curling your fingers around the warm mug. The faint scent of flowers and sterilization fills the air—a mix of freshness and antiseptic cleanliness. Ulfgar must have cleaned while you were away. You remember giving him permission to sanitize the apartment after you’d fallen ill. It had seemed like a simple precaution at the time. Now, the space feels pristine, almost foreign, and you did not like that your parents’ scent was being obscured by whatever cleaning agent he used. The scent is a subtle reminder of how much your life has changed in the last few days. More questions than ever linger about your parents, but they’re not here to answer. To be held accountable. As if they would, anyway. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S21">><</button>></span>

You let out a long sigh, leaning your head back onto the couch cushion and closing your eyes. Your feet ache from today’s travels, though not as much as they might have. Having an unstable core meant fatigue and pain came faster, but today wasn’t as harsh as it could’ve been, thanks to the waystations. Waystones— the magical alternative to a waystation—could make travel easier on Terra, but even they require access to magic to operate. You wouldn’t even know where to begin looking for one in the Southern Territories. The tea cools in your hands as you sip it slowly, the fragrant liquid soothing your frayed nerves. The quiet allows your thoughts to further unfurl, revealing layers of unanswered questions you always try to push down. Your parents had always been so strict about life on Terra. <i>You cannot handle life outside of Terra. You would not be able to survive,</i> they had practically beat it into your head. But here, in Tenebrae, you’d found more peace than you’d ever imagined. The folk weren’t perfect, but there was something genuine about them. Something honest and kind that contrasted with the magical meritocracy of Terra. The apartment feels stifling now, too quiet for your restless thoughts. You set your mug down and grab your communicator, scrolling through the notifications you received while out. The screen glitches slightly from age, and you make a mental note to actually try to purchase a newer model as Pantella had suggested. One notification catches your eye: a note about a gathering at the market plaza tonight. It wasn’t far from here, and the idea of being around folk, seeing more of Tenebrae’s culture, was appealing, especially after missing the Caius Festival. You change quickly, opting for comfortable clothes that wouldn’t draw too much attention. The streets of Tenebrae are still alive as you step outside, the energy of the city buzzing around you. Curfew wasn’t for another few hours and you feel excited to explore for a bit. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S22">><</button>></span>

The air is cool but pleasant, the faint scent of street food wafting through the narrow alleys. Neon signs flicker overhead, casting colorful reflections on the damp pavement. The market plaza threatens to overload your senses, but you feel determined to experience it, even after the exhaustion of the day. Stalls line the square, offering everything from glowing trinkets to exotic spices. The air is filled with the hum of conversation, the laughter of children, and the occasional bark of a vendor touting their wares. You wander aimlessly through the crowd, taking it all in. A short Woodelf with reddish brown hair and intricate tattoos selling what looked like enchanted jewelry grins at you. The pieces glow faintly, their light pulsing in time with the rhythm of the city. The elf wears a badge displaying her name and pronouns. "Interested?" Aldrion asks in a melodic voice, "These aren’t just for show. They’re attuned to the wearer’s energy." You hesitate, your fingers brushing over a delicate bracelet, "How do they work?" Aldrion smiles, her eyes twinkling, "Each piece is crafted with care. The magic resonates with your core, amplifying your strengths or shielding your weaknesses. Try it." <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S23">><</button>></span>

You open your mouth to respond, but no words come. What could you even say to that? <i>Thank you, I have spent my life carrying the shame of it. Thank you, for seeing past it. Thank you, for seeing me.</i> That didn’t seem enough. Instead, you nod slightly, swallowing past the lump in your throat. Her smile doesn’t falter despite the look on your face. You are sure you are about to cry but she doesn’t push you to say more. Somehow, that kindness, her willingness to leave the moment as it was, makes it easier to breathe. You slip the bracelet off and place it on the counter, fumbling with your emmy pouch. "Take care," Aldrion says as she hands you a small cloth pouch to store the bracelet, "And remember, strength takes many forms. Sometimes, it’s the quiet things that make us unshakable." You nod, still unable to form words, and leave the stall, the bracelet tucked safely in your pocket. The weight of it is a reassuring presence as you continue to explore the market. You felt a strange sense of belonging here, amidst the chaos and color. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S25">><</button>></span>

You slip the bracelet onto your wrist, and a warmth spreads through you, subtle but comforting. The woman nods approvingly, "That one suits you. It enhances stability—perfect for someone with an unstable core." Your breath catches as your head snaps to her, "How did you…?" "I’ve been around long enough to recognize the signs," she waves a hand dismissively, "Don’t worry; it’s nothing to be ashamed of." Her words hit you like a gust of wind, unexpected and strangely disarming. You blink rapidly, trying to process them. Nothing to be ashamed of? That felt foreign. All your life, the instability of your core had been painted as a weakness, a burden to be hidden or managed in silence. It wasn’t just a physical limitation; it was a mark that separated you, an invisible barrier between yourself and others. But here was this stranger, looking at you as though it was just another fact of life, like the color of your eyes or the length of your hair. Not a flaw, not a judgment. Just… you. Your fingers tighten around the bracelet as heat flushes in your cheeks. You don’t know whether it was embarrassment or the rush of some long-suppressed emotion. Relief, maybe, or even that elusive flicker of hope. For so long, you’d carried the weight of being ‘different’ from living under the unspoken rule that folk like you didn’t belong in the universe beyond Terra. And now, here was someone who saw you clearly and didn’t recoil. There were multiple someones when you think about it—Ulfgar, Twyl, Pantella. Even Xander’s ire wasn’t because of your condition. He was just surly, it seemed. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S24">><</button>></span>

The stalls glow duller now and the crowd has thinned, leaving behind a quieter hum of activity. You wander aimlessly once more, letting the rhythm of the place guide you. There was something oddly soothing about the way Tenebrae pulsed around you—alive, unrelenting, yet oddly welcoming. A street musician, seemingly a vampire, catches your eye. They’re seated on a low stool, a stringed instrument balanced across their lap. The music they play is haunting, the notes rising and falling like waves crashing against a distant shore. You pause to listen, swaying gently with the crowd. As you listen, a memory surfaces, unbidden and sharp. Lyla’s voice, low and insistent: <i>"Don’t trust anyone outside Terra. They’ll smile at you, but they’ll never truly accept you."</i> The words had always seemed absolute, unshakeable in their certainty. But now, in the wake of the warmth you have found yourself cradled in, they seem useless. Empty. You linger until the musician’s song fades into the night, then drop a few emmies into the basket at their feet. They nod in thanks, their eyes meeting yours briefly before returning to their instrument. As you turn away, your eyes begin to feel heavier, and you know it’s time to go home. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S26">><</button>></span>

The walk back to your apartment is quiet, the city’s energy settling into a subdued hum as the first gong for curfew rang out. You take the long way, winding through streets that were still unfamiliar, drawn by the faint glow of neon and the smell of nightflowers in the air. It felt good to move, to let your thoughts roam freely for a while. To think about the things you never let yourself think about. The apartment door clicks shut behind you for the final time tonight, the familiar silence wrapping around you like a blanket. You set the cloth pouch containing the bracelet on the coffee table, its faint glow barely visible through the fabric. For a moment, you simply stand there, staring at it. It felt like more than just a piece of jewelry. It was a marker, a symbol of something you couldn’t quite name. Acceptance, maybe? Or the beginning of it? You glance away for a moment, your attention drawn to the lights slowly going out in the street. Once cloaked in the light of the moons, you pull the bracelet from its pouch and hold it in your palm. Its glow intensifies slightly, responding to your touch. You slip it onto your wrist again, the warmth spreading through you like a soft, steady pulse. You doubted it would do much to help your core where standard medicine couldn’t. But it held more meaning than that to you now. Sinking onto the couch, you closed your eyes and let your thoughts wander freely again. The weight of the last few days settles over you—not heavy, but present, like a warm blanket on a cool night. The kindness you experienced from Pantella and Breltin, Ulfgar and Xander’s care, the bracelet vendor’s words, the music in the plaza—all of it felt connected, like pieces of a puzzle you were just beginning to understand. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S27">><</button>></span>

"You speak fluent Terran," you say, then hold back the other thought—<i>and you’re a dwarf</i>—as you don’t want to sound presumptuous. As far as you knew, dwarves are from Terra and primarily live in the Western territories, where they carved their homes into the mountains. Though, you have encountered a few in the Southern territories during your deliveries. "Aye," Breltin replies, picking up on your need to shift the conversation, "I came to Tenebrae for a more… comfortable life. The mountains in Vern Kuldir? Not accessible in the slightest." You nod slowly, following their lead, "I’ve never been, but I hear you’d need to climb it to get to Mirin’s Keep." "Ironic, isn’t it?" Breltin says smoothly, "The great dwarven halls, renowned for their craftsmanship, but utterly impractical for someone like me." "I know a thing or two about that," you say, surprising yourself with the quiet honesty in your voice, "Almost everything in the Northern and Southern Territories runs on magic. For someone who can’t even use their core, it’s alienating." Breltin’s expression softens as they regard you with newfound understanding, "Then we are kin. Tell me, what do you think of Tenebrae so far? [["Tenebrae is not what I thought it would be."]] [["I love it. I never knew life could be like this."]]

"If you don’t mind me asking," you append, not wanting to pry. Breltin glances at their chair, fingers resting lightly on the armrest as they settle back. "I was born with a neurological condition," they explain, "It affects my motor skills. Growing up on Terra wasn’t easy, but here…" They gesture around the room, their tone shifting to something prideful. "Here, I have the freedom to shape my space as I see fit. The freedom to work, to create. It’s more than I ever had back in the mountains." You study them, their words stirring something in you, "It sounds like you’ve built something remarkable here in Tenebrae," you say quietly. Breltin smiles softly, that glimmer of pride in their eye, "It’s not much, but it’s mine." Your thoughts drift, mingling with the soft hum of the shop. Everything in Tenebrae feels more accessible, more possible. No need for magic to survive, just a space to exist. "What do you think of Tenebrae so far?" Breltin asks, peering at you from behind their glasses. [["Tenebrae is not what I thought it would be."]] [["I love it. I never knew life could be like this."]]

The moment you stepped foot into Tenebrae, any preconceived notions you had were instantly shattered. It wasn’t the eerie and foreboding place you had been told your whole life; instead, it exuded an unexpected sense of tranquility and beauty. The air was filled with the delicate fragrance of nightflowers, and the soft glow of ethereal moonlight danced across the landscape. The whispers of ancient secrets seemed to echo in the distance, inviting you to explore further into the depths of this mystical realm. Now that you think about it, you seemed to have some sort of innate connection to this place. It felt more like home than Aurora Vista ever did. "I’ve been told my whole life how awful and scary this place is," you say softly, gazing out to the bustling street from the glass pane of the door, "But being here now, I wonder why I never came." But even as you say the words, you know why. Lyla and Persephone rarely let you out of their sight, and when sent to the Institute, advised leadership to keep you confined to Aurora Vista. They claimed it was too dangerous for someone with your condition to travel. But you’d fought for the right anyway, even taking up a position as a courier. Part of it was to spite them, but another part was to finally see the world they’d tried to hide you from. As if your condition was something they were ashamed of. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S18">><</button>></span>

"You know," you begin, thinking back on the waystations and the upgrades to your apartment, "Caligans seem to rely more on technology than magic, unlike on Terra. I didn’t know life could be this… accessible." As Breltin’s smile widens, you can’t help but feel a sense of kinship with the Caligans. Their reliance on technology resonates with you, making you appreciate their way of life even more. It’s as if a new world has opened up before your eyes, where everything is within reach, just a few taps away. The upgrades to your apartment, the convenience of the waystations, all of it has made life more accessible than ever before. "And that’s exactly why I love it here, too," Breltin says softly, their smile still plastered on. You momentarily think their eyes are glazed over, but then they blink, and the look vanishes, "The Sovereign takes such good care of us, and is so welcoming to foreigners." "Right…" you say, slightly uncomfortable with the mention of the Sovereignty. The memory of their rule over this place made your skin crawl, but you shake it off. It must be another one of your biases clouding your vision. Your mothers never had a good thing to say about the Sovereignty, and most Terrans were aligned with the idea that they were horrible. But nothing you had experienced in Caligo had suggested that. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH3.S18">><</button>></span>

You think of your parents again, their voices fading into the background of your mind. For so long, their warnings had been your guiding star, shaping every decision you’d made. What a perfectly obedient child they raised, that you have never truly questioned them. But now, here in Tenebrae, you feel something fracture within you, and it’s not your Core. The world they’d warned you about wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t the hostile, unforgiving place they’d described, either. It was complex and accepting and <i>alive</i>. And you were alive in it. You trace your fingers over the surface of the bracelet, feeling the faint etchings in the metal. Maybe it was time to stop seeing yourself through their eyes. Maybe it was time to start seeing yourself for who you truly were—not a fragile, unstable anomaly, but something else entirely. Someone else entirely. And maybe you could be that person here. The thought scares you as much as it thrills you. It felt like standing on the edge of the cliffs of Thaloria, the salted wind whipping through your hair, the ocean far below. But it also felt like freedom—dangerous and fulfilling and <i>yours</i>. The thought is interrupted by the buckling of your knees. Still not fully recovered, you haul yourself up from the couch and make your way to your room where you collapse onto the bed into a peaceful rest, the first occurrence since your arrival in Tenebrae. <span class="next"><<button "Continue" "CH4.S0">><</button>></span>

You swallow as they wait for your permission, "Go ahead." The device hums softly as they lift it toward your chest, peering through its glowing lens. Their brows furrow almost immediately. Silence fills the room, save for the faint whir of the device. Breltin’s scrutiny sharpens, their gaze unyielding. "Hm..." they lower the device, seeming to purposely shield it from you, and frowns as it flickers. "What is it?" you ask, your voice tighter than intended. "It’s…" Breltin trails off, their expression unreadable. "Your core is… complex." "Okay, complex how?" They set the device down, facedown, before turning back to you. "How much do you know about cores?" "Not much," you admit, fidgeting, "Just that mine doesn’t work right." Breltin adjusts their glasses, their tone shifting into something more deliberate, "A core is the intersection of body and soul—the foundation of your magical essence. It reflects your emotions, memories, and potential. For most people, it’s stable—a single, unified structure." "Right… and mine?" They hesitate before answering, their voice quieter now. "Yours is… layered. As if it’s been split. And between those layers, something is blocking the flow." You blink at them, "What does that mean? Blocking it?" Breltin nods gravely, "A core is like a river. When it flows freely, it sustains you. But when there’s a separation or interference, it creates turbulence. That turbulence can manifest as physical, emotional, or magical instability." Your stomach churns. All the times you lost control and— "Is it dangerous in the long term?" "Not immediately," they say, though their tone lacks conviction. "But if left unchecked, it could worsen. In rare cases, cores can fracture." "I have never heard of a fractured core." Whole cores and unstable ones, sure. But fractured? That sounds catastrophic. "A fractured core scatters its energy. You’d survive, but you wouldn’t be yourself anymore. But yours is not fractured." You can almost hear the words that would have followed if Breltin was crueler—<i>not yet, anyway.</i> The words hit harder than you expect, and for a moment, the room feels too quiet. You take a shaky breath, "What could cause something like this?" Breltin leans back in their wheelchair, their expression thoughtful. "Cores don’t split on their own. It takes a powerful force. A traumatic event, perhaps. Or intentional tampering. But why would someone do that… I can’t say. They would have to know what they’re doing." You glance at the facedown device, your thoughts spiraling. What happened to you? Wouldn’t you remember something that significant? Would you even want to? Taking another breath, you look around the shop for a distraction, your hand flexing at your side. Turning back to them, you ask, [["Are you from Terra?"]] [["What brings you to Tenebrae?"]]