Eastern Coast of Pritt, Tivian.
In Tivian during the daytime, at a sizable public library in the eastern district, a few citizens were moving through the spacious interior, searching between rows of bookshelves for something to read. At the edges of the area, several people who had already found their books were seated at reserved reading spots, reading either intently or leisurely.
By a quiet window-side table, a silver-haired girl dressed in a white shirt and a plain black high-waisted skirt, paired with white stockings and black Mary Janes, sat with a book in hand, reading serenely. Across from her sat a glamorous woman with long wavy blonde hair, dressed in a tailored formal dress and a wide-brimmed hat adorned with blossoms—someone who seemed more suited for a social event than a library. She was sipping red wine from a goblet while reading a book on the table.
“You’re not supposed to drink alcohol in a library, are you?”
Dorothy looked up from her book and commented casually to Adèle. Adèle smiled and replied.
“True, but I’ve already spoken to the management and received special permission. A little drink won’t hurt~”
Dorothy glanced back at her book and responded softly.
“It’s not about permission… It’s that right now, hardly anyone in Tivian would dare stop you no matter what you wanted to do. I just mean, this isn’t a social gathering. Drinking doesn’t really match the atmosphere.”
“Not a social gathering? No, no, no~ For me, anywhere I’m with you, little detective, is a most important occasion. So come on, have a drink too. I brought your favorite juice~”
Smiling as she spoke, Adèle gestured, and a library staff member she had temporarily “recruited” as a waiter came over, serving Dorothy a glass of juice and a dessert on a tray. Dorothy shrugged slightly and, without protest, picked up the juice and took a sip.
When Dorothy and Adèle met, it was usually at a restaurant or bar of Adèle’s choosing. Often, Adèle would use the mood to get a bit flirtatious with Dorothy. This time, Dorothy had chosen the library instead, but Adèle still managed to make the place feel like a bar.
Shaking her head in mild exasperation, Dorothy took another sip before setting her book aside and speaking.
“How does it feel? Now that you've advanced to Crimson…”
Adèle, after tipping the server with a few pounds, turned back to Dorothy and replied.
“Crimson, huh… How to describe it? Truly strange. Especially just after the advancement, so much of the world's pretense seemed to peel away before me. Everything felt more real. I doubt I’ll ever forget that feeling.”
She swirled the wine in her goblet and continued thoughtfully.
“The Crimson rank… my mentor never reached it, yet now I have. Even though I got here step by step, when the journey finally ended—it still feels like a dream. In a way, I suppose I’ve fulfilled my mentor’s lifelong wish. Of course, it’s all thanks to you, little detective.”
Dorothy chuckled and replied.
“You’ve helped us plenty too. We’re even. So now that you've reached Crimson, what’s your next plan?”
“My next plan…”
Adèle paused in thought before answering.
“Pursuing Crimson rank was about fulfilling my mentor’s wish. Now that that’s done… I’m not quite sure what to do next. But I suppose I’ll focus on unraveling the mystery of the Desire Path.”
“You know this too. The Desire Path is part of the Chalice, yet unlike the other Chalice branches, it’s not under the control of the Afterbirth Cult. There must be a deep reason behind this—perhaps related to the former ‘Mistress of Flowers.’
“The Afterbirth Cult is now seeking to take control of the Desire Path, and I can’t just sit idly by. I’ll probably take a break from performing and head to Falano to investigate its secrets. Since the Splendor King uncovered the Mistress of Flowers’ temple in Falano, there must be more secrets waiting there. Also, as a descendant of the Bourbon royal family, I’d like to uncover what my family has been hiding.”
With a hint of solemnity, Adèle laid out her thoughts, and Dorothy, after considering them, agreed that if they were going to oppose the Afterbirth Cult, investigating the Chalice through the Desire Path was a valid approach.
“I see… Then I wish you luck. If you run into anything particularly troublesome, don’t forget to tell me. You know how to reach me.”
“Of course~”
Adèle responded with a smile, raising her wineglass.
After chatting for a while, Adèle took her things and left for other matters. Dorothy, not in a rush to leave, remained in the library, continuing to read and enjoy the rare peace following recent major events.
Just like that, as time passed, Dorothy finished several more books from the shelf. As she glanced at the setting sun through the window and prepared to leave, something seemed to catch her attention. She stopped, sat back down, and retrieved her magic box.
From it, she pulled out the Literary Sea Logbook, placing it firmly on the table. After flipping through it, she opened the page connected to new messages—it was Artcheli’s page.
“Oh? Could it be our little saint has made progress?”
Dorothy mused inwardly upon seeing who contacted her, then began carefully reading Artcheli’s handwriting.
“I’ve begun a covert investigation into Kramar. I’ve infiltrated both the Inquisition and the Historical Scripture Department to examine records related to him. So far, there’s no evidence of collusion with heretics.”
Not long ago, during the Cardinal Council, all cardinals except Amanda publicly judged Vania. In the end, only Kramar—acting as the Inquisition Cardinal—insisted on declaring Vania guilty. His stance was so extreme it bordered on obsession.
Kramar’s increasingly irrational behavior had caught the attention of his peers. As a judge of the Radiance Church, his reckless fervor was starting to contradict his role. This anomaly drew the suspicion of the other cardinals, especially Artcheli, who oversaw investigations.
Dorothy had once thought Kramar was simply a power-mad lunatic, but after the judgment and a conversation between Vania and Amanda, she began to think it wasn’t so simple. Based on Amanda’s reaction, Dorothy suspected Kramar harbored secrets that weren’t aligned with the Church’s interest. Perhaps he wasn’t just a man driven by ambition.
With that in mind, Dorothy contacted Artcheli, and surprisingly, Artcheli shared similar thoughts. They quickly reached an agreement to begin a secret investigation into Kramar.
“He keeps his ties to heresy deeply buried and indirect. He likely never meets them himself, instead using loyal archbishops to act on his behalf—and always with extreme caution…”
Dorothy wrote this on the Logbook page, her insight coming from her past confrontation with the Afterbirth Cult in Falano, where the archbishop there enabled their schemes through silent approval.
“You’re talking about the Falano archbishop, right? I’ve already sent people to quietly investigate him and a few other suspicious Inquisition archbishops. If we can’t find a crack in Kramar himself, maybe we’ll find something through them.”
Artcheli replied quickly. After reading her response, Dorothy nodded slightly and continued writing.
“Kramar is a Cardinal Saint. If he really wants to hide something, even you may have trouble uncovering it. His subordinates might be the better angle…”
As she wrote, her expression grew more focused. Then, another thought occurred to her, and she continued writing.
“By the way, what did your initial investigation focus on? Can you share it?”
Artcheli soon replied.
“His interrogation records… draft decrees… signed documents… travel logs… pretty much everything. I checked every document tied to Kramar in the Church from the recent past. You don’t need to worry about missing anything.”
It was clear she sensed that Dorothy’s earlier question hinted at doubt in her abilities. She didn’t sound pleased.
Dorothy pressed on.
“Then among all those documents… you really didn’t find anything suspicious?”
“…Are you questioning my professional ability?”
As one of the Seven Saints and the Secrets Cardinal, Artcheli was clearly annoyed at having her investigative skills called into question. Dorothy paused for a moment, then wrote:
“Where was Kramar in March of last year?”
“March 1360, 1st to 26th: At Holy Mount, handling Inquisition affairs, mainly reviewing rulings from lower courts. 26th: Went to Norton’s Absolute Light Prison to interrogate key prisoner. 28th: Headed to Falano’s Flottes for verification tasks…”
Artcheli’s memory was sharp, and she responded with clear detail. Dorothy concentrated as she read, then continued writing.
“Where was he in April?”
“In April 1360, Kramar was inspecting Inquisition branches across Falano and Frisland. He personally took part in several major heresy cases. Returned to Holy Mount at month’s end. The cases were…”
The summary appeared before Dorothy’s eyes. She didn’t spot any obvious issues, but she didn’t stop.
“Where was Kramar on April 1st last year?”
“In Flottes, conducting an inspection…”
“And on the 2nd?”
“Still in Flots, same task.”
“3rd?”
“Went to Frisland, first to Upper Morid, to investigate heresy.”
“4th?”
“Still in Upper Morid, continuing the case.”
And so, Dorothy stared at the calendar and began asking, day by day, what Kramar did in April of last year. Artcheli responded with patience.
To her, this questioning style felt oddly irritating, almost like an adult asking a child if they forgot anything. It might be insulting for an ordinary person—let alone a Saint of the Church.
Yet due to Dorothy’s status as the Saintess’ Appointed Divine Emissary, Artcheli, a devout follower of the Saintess, kept her irritation in check and continued cooperating, waiting to see what Dorothy was getting at.
Soon, Artcheli realized she’d become the target of that “something.”
“April 16th—what was Kramar doing that day?”
“April 16th, 1360… He was still in Frisland. That day, he left Lower Morid and went to… huh?”
…
Holy Mount, deep within the Court of Secrets.
In a dimly lit and rather modest office, a black-haired girl in a well-fitted uniform sat at her desk, frowning slightly as she stared at the characters on the page before her. A faint look of puzzlement crept onto her face.
“April 16th… where was Kramar again?”
Artcheli murmured as she read Dorothy’s question on the Literary Sea Logbook communication page. She bit the end of her pen and furrowed her brow, deep in thought. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't recall the answer.
“How could I not remember something I just looked at not long ago? That’s not right…”
“Wait a moment…”
Realizing she couldn't pull the answer from memory, Artcheli quickly scribbled that message onto the Logbook’s communication page, then stood up and briskly walked to another table on the far side of her office. That desk was piled high with documents and books.
After rummaging through the thick stack for a while, Artcheli finally found what she was looking for—a file folder containing records of Kramar’s itinerary from last year. Since it was from the previous year, it had already been archived by the Historical Scripture Department. Artcheli had requisitioned it and brought it to the Court of Secrets for analysis.
She inspected the folder briefly, then brought it back to her desk. Opening it, she pulled out the familiar documents she had previously reviewed and began reading them carefully again, and this time, specifically focusing on Kramar’s whereabouts on April 16th.
And then, she was stunned.
“This… this is…”
Artcheli sat at her desk, eyes wide, staring at a certain section of the document. Amid the densely packed lines of writing, one entire line stood out—blank. A blank line that had no reason to exist.
Above it were details of Kramar’s itinerary for April 15th. Below it, April 18th. But for the 16th and the 17th, there was nothing.
The document supposedly recorded all of Kramar’s movements throughout April 1360. And yet, those two days were simply missing. Completely omitted. The space had been left obviously, glaringly empty.
With a grave expression, Artcheli stared at the file. A ring of orange light bloomed faintly at the edge of her pupils—she was activating her Lantern vision, attempting to detect mystical traces on the paper. But after several seconds of focused scrutiny, she detected nothing unusual.
This result only deepened her unease.
Taking the file in hand, she rose in silence and headed to the tools chamber to retrieve additional instruments for examination. Yet even with their aid, she found no signs of mystical anomalies. It was, by all appearances, just an ordinary document.
“……”
Still silent, Artcheli returned to the cluttered table and began meticulously combing through the remaining documents. As one of the Church’s Seven Living Saints, she knew that Kramar’s itinerary would’ve been recorded not just once but across multiple official documents. She now set about finding cross-references.
Sure enough, after a bit of searching, she located several other files that indirectly recorded Kramar’s movements in April. She stood there, carefully examining each one.
And what she found left her frozen in place.
Blank… blank… still blank. The same chilling blank spaces appeared in the documents now in her hands. Every record that should have detailed Kramar’s actions on April 16th, 1360, was empty. Sometimes it was a blank line; other times, an entire blank paragraph. The voids stood out starkly amid otherwise complete and orderly reports.
“…Heh… This is…
“…terrifying.”
Staring at the blank portions of the documents, Artcheli felt a cold shiver run down her spine. Her hand involuntarily rose to press against her forehead as dread churned in her chest.
Why? Why were all records from this time—anything related to Kramar’s whereabouts—like this? Why were they blank? Was it negligence? But the documents were otherwise so detailed and complete. Only these parts were omitted, and the spaces were deliberately left empty. It didn’t look like forgetfulness at all. So… was it intentional? If so, why? And if someone did it on purpose, why hadn’t the auditors noticed the irregularity?
But the most terrifying part wasn’t that the initial reviewers missed it.
It was that until just now, no one in the Court of Secrets had noticed either, including Artcheli herself, one of the Seven Living Saints and the Cardinal of Secrets.
These blanks were so stark, so blatant, obviously out of place, wedged between two fully intact records, and yet she hadn’t seen it. Not until Dorothy pointed it out. Only when she went back specifically to look for it did she finally realize what was wrong.
Kramar’s schedule for April 16th and 17th, 1360, seemed to be a blank not only in Artcheli’s mind but in the very fabric of the written records. Even with all her experience handling mystical and high-profile cases, she had never encountered anything like this.
“…Hoo…”
Taking a deep breath, Artcheli walked briskly back to her desk with the documents in hand. Sitting down, she collected her thoughts for a moment, then picked up her pen and began writing everything she had just discovered into the Literary Sea Logbook’s communication page.
…
Eastern Coast of Pritt, Tivian.
At dusk, inside a library in East Tivian, silver-haired Dorothy sat at her window-side table, gazing at the sun slowly setting in the distant sky as she awaited a reply from her “pen pal” far away.
Finally, after a few minutes, Dorothy sensed a spiritual resonance from the Literary Sea Logbook. When she turned her eyes back to the page, more of Artcheli’s handwriting began to appear beneath the earlier “Wait a moment” message.
Artcheli’s new reply was long, line after line unfolding before Dorothy's eyes. As she read through Artcheli’s account of what had just happened on her end, her brow furrowed slightly in concern.
“There can be… something like that?”
Dorothy murmured in confusion after reading the full message. While she had suspected something might be wrong with Kramar’s itinerary on that April day, she hadn’t expected the problem to be this severe.
“Did you examine those documents?”
Dorothy lifted her pen and responded in writing on the page. Artcheli’s reply soon followed.
“I used every inspection method available on-site. As far as those documents go, there’s no detectable anomaly. To go further, I’d have to send them to the Historical Scripture Department for a more professional examination… But I doubt it’ll help. I don’t think the issue lies in the documents themselves. My own perception was affected, after all…”
After a short pause, more lines appeared in Artcheli’s careful handwriting.
“It seems Kramar’s problem is far more serious than I had imagined. I now understand why you specifically focused on April when questioning me. I too had once studied his activities during that month… but found nothing. I never expected that it was due to a mystical force completely masking the truth…”
Line after line of Artcheli’s writing continued to fill the page. Her claim of having carefully examined Kramar’s movements in April the previous year wasn’t just a retrospective boast. Both she and Dorothy understood the significance of that month. It was only natural they had given it particular attention.
April 1360. That was when the Pontiff of the Radiance Church—the single most central figure in the entire Church—had ascended to the heavens once again, leaving the mortal world behind… and never returned.
During the Cardinal Council’s interrogation of Vania, Dorothy had used her information network to link into Vania’s senses. She not only watched the entire trial unfold but also witnessed the private conversation between Vania and Amanda afterward.
In that conversation, Vania questioned Amanda about Kramar, and Amanda admitted that Kramar seemed somewhat different from the man she had once known. At Dorothy’s direction, Vania pressed Amanda on when this change began, but Amanda appeared strangely uncertain. She couldn’t remember anything.
That moment raised suspicions in Dorothy’s mind: Had Kramar been corrupted by some heretical influence? Was that why he had changed? And if such a force could affect a Gold-rank Cardinal, then when would be the right time for such a plan to be carried out? Naturally, after the Pontiff had departed.
According to the cardinals, the Pontiff—as one of the Three Saints and the Savior’s only appointed proxy in the mortal world—was an unfathomably powerful being. Some even claimed his strength was enough to suppress foreign deities themselves. He was the very foundation of the Radiance Church.
No one could act under such a being’s gaze. It was said the Pontiff could see through any mind with a single glance, no one’s thoughts could escape him, and no scheme could unfold within his presence.
If Kramar had been influenced, it would never have escaped the Pontiff’s notice. Any such plan could only take root after the Pontiff ascended. So, Dorothy paid close attention to the time immediately before and after that moment. And Artcheli understood the significance of that window, too.
Now, evidence of Kramar’s anomaly had indeed surfaced in that period. But the nature of it went far beyond what Dorothy had anticipated.
“Not only has no one noticed it… even the records themselves are blank?”
Dorothy thought, rubbing her chin. Artcheli’s discovery flooded Dorothy’s mind with thoughts and hypotheses. After sitting for a while in deep consideration, she finally picked up her pen again.
“Hold on a moment. I’m going to go check something.”
After writing this in the Logbook, Dorothy stood from her seat and swiftly headed toward the rows of towering bookshelves within the library. She weaved her way through them until she found the right section. Then she began scanning the top of the shelves, and soon, she pulled out the book she was looking for.
Frisland Gazetteer.
She glanced at the cover twice, then opened it and flipped to the index, scanning the list of important place names. As her eyes moved down the list, she saw a blank line.
Above and below that blank were names of major cities in Frisland. Clearly, this empty space was meant for another name—but in Dorothy’s vision, there was nothing there.
Staring at the blank line for a while, Dorothy turned to the main text that corresponded to the missing index entry. When she flipped to that section—
It was blank.
Not a single line, but dozens of full pages. One after another, entirely empty.
Only the page borders and numbers remained to decorate the pages. All the text was completely gone.
Seeing so many continuous blank pages in her Frisland Gazetteer, Dorothy took a sharp breath. Then she turned to other parts of the book. The remaining entries all had their proper content, each one densely packed with writing. Her expression grew more serious.
Next, Dorothy began searching the library for other documents related to Frisland: travel logs, historical records, cultural essays, train line guides, and more. She flipped rapidly through each one.
In every case, she found spots where something was missing. In passages that should have referenced a particular place, there was only empty space. The name and all related information had been erased.
There was a place in Frisland that had disappeared.
At least, disappeared from human memory and from all written texts. And no one had noticed.
That was the conclusion Dorothy arrived at. After drawing it, she returned to her seat and rubbed her temples.
“A place that has vanished from books and speech…”
She whispered quietly to herself. Then, hands lowered, she began thinking deeply.
Her original goal had simply been to use geography records to investigate Kramar’s missing itinerary. But what she uncovered was something far stranger.
“The place Kramar visited on April 16th last year hasn’t only vanished from Church documents… it’s disappeared from all written records. As a cardinal archbishop, Kramar wouldn’t have gone to some backwater village. It must have been a well-known, prominent location. And yet, it’s just gone…”
Dorothy pondered this silently. If it were just missing from the books, that would be one thing. But the truly unsettling part was that no one seemed to remember it either. No one had noticed the missing information. If not for Dorothy’s prompt, even Artcheli would never have found the issue. Even Amanda only recalled that something was wrong with Kramar after Vania questioned her directly.
So many clearly blank books had sat untouched in this library for who knows how long, and no one had raised the alarm.
“Artcheli overlooked the blank entries in Kramar’s file. Amanda only realized something was off after I had Vania prompt her. And these dozens of blank pages about Frisland have sat here in the open, unnoticed for who knows how long…
“All of these points lead to one conclusion. Some force has hidden… or rather, erased the traces of a certain place in Frisland. This erasure was so thorough that even Saints of the Church can’t detect it… except me.”
As she thought this, Dorothy looked at her own hand. Clearly, she was once again a unique case in this strange event. The missing dates? She’d been the one to point them out. The blank documents? She had noticed them without help. And the erased entries in the Frisland books? She spotted them immediately.
“Interesting…”
Dorothy whispered softly.
Then she looked again at the stack of books before her, rolled her shoulders, and got to work, picking them up one by one and flipping through them quickly.
What she was doing now was confirming the location of the place that had seemingly been erased. While the name and records had vanished, that didn’t mean its location couldn’t be deduced.
Many books on Frisland mentioned the place in passing while describing others. For example, a town might be described as “east of [blank],” which implied the missing place’s location. Moreover, many geographic guides listed places in order of proximity, grouping nearby locations together. By analyzing these contextual clues, Dorothy could begin triangulating where the missing place once was.
Additionally, and perhaps more crucially, this library contained a complete railway map of the entire main continent, along with a detailed index of train stations. Based on earlier deductions, the vanished place was likely a fairly large city and would almost certainly have had rail access. In that case, all Dorothy needed to do was examine the Frisland station list and find a missing entry, then locate the stations immediately before and after that gap. The missing city's approximate location could be triangulated between those two points on the rail map.
At last, after all her verification and cross-referencing, Dorothy successfully narrowed down the approximate location of the vanished city. Frisland was situated along the northern shore of the main continent, and the mysterious place that had disappeared seemed to lie somewhere along its northern coastline. That was as much as she could glean for now.
"The northern coast of Frisland, huh…"
Dorothy murmured, gazing at the large world map on her desk and the area she had just pinpointed. There was no label at the location her deductions indicated.
“Just what kind of secret could be hidden there…?”
She wondered to herself, then resumed flipping through her stack of books, hoping to pinpoint the coordinates more precisely. However, as she reached the final few volumes, she suddenly froze.
"This is…"
She had come across a map. An old one drawn on coarse cloth, its edges torn and frayed, its contents blurry and heavily discolored. It looked ancient.
The map came from the library's rare book section. It was one of the prized historical artifacts stored here. Apparently created and used by northern sea pirates hundreds of years ago. It depicted the northern coastline of the main continent as well as various islands, including Pritt and the Frisland region. That’s why Dorothy had taken it. Reportedly, this map had been left behind by the northern sea pirates during an ancient invasion of Pritt.
On this very ancient map, along the very roughly drawn northern coastline of the continent, at precisely the area Dorothy had earlier deduced to be the vanished city's location, a name was marked.
A name that, no matter how hard she looked, Dorothy had not been able to find on any modern map.
Squinting to decipher the blurred letters, she pieced together the name.
"Stinam."
Dorothy frowned slightly.
On this old map, every other city name in Frisland still had a modern counterpart that could be found, except this one. And the spot marked "Stinam" just so happened to align almost perfectly with the location Dorothy had deduced earlier. Could it be… that this was the vanished city?
Could the city's name be Stinam?
But… why did none of the modern maps show it? Why only this old one?
Could this ancient map possess some kind of mystical ability, like her own immunity to the force that had erased the city’s name from memory?
Considering this, Dorothy immediately began pulling various tools from her magic box to inspect the old map for any mystical traces. But after two rounds of testing, she found nothing.
It appeared to be an ordinary antique map.
“There’s nothing unusual about it at all… Could it be that my tools aren’t sophisticated enough? Should I send it to Artcheli and let her examine it on her side?”
As Dorothy studied the old map, this thought crossed her mind. But then, another possibility occurred to her:
“Or maybe… the reason this map still shows Stinam isn’t because it has mystical resistance, but for some other reason…
“…like the fact that it’s simply very old?”
Staring at this artifact from centuries ago, Dorothy fell silent in deep thought.
…
Holy Mount, Court of Secrets.
Artcheli still sat in her office, her expression growing more grave as she read Dorothy’s latest update via the Literary Sea Logbook. Dorothy’s investigation results had just come through.
Artcheli had previously assumed that the mysterious erasure might be targeting Church personnel and documents specifically—but now it was clearly much broader. If ordinary citizens and mundane books in Tivian were also affected…
Then the force must have impacted the entire world.
If the entire world’s perception had been tampered with…
Then the severity of this incident had just escalated dramatically.
“…And then there’s that name—Stinam.”
As she thought, a flicker of confusion crossed Artcheli’s face. Dorothy had mentioned the name and the old map in her message, and when Artcheli read the name "Stinam"… it struck a familiar chord.
“Strange… I feel like I’ve heard the name ‘Stinam’ before… and quite recently too. But where?”
Holding her forehead, Artcheli strained her memory. After some intense searching through her thoughts, she finally recalled a faint trace.
Following that thread, she stood, walked to a locked bookshelf at the side of her office, and rummaged through it. Eventually, she retrieved a ring adorned with a yellow gem. Unlocking its seal and infusing it with spirituality, the gem projected an image onto the smooth wall of her office—like a projector.
The projection split into many small frames, each one showing a different item—strange and varied, from heretical statues to ordinary clothing—each with annotations beneath them noting their origin.
These were all valuable pieces of evidence from cases Artcheli had personally handled as the Cardinal of Secrets. This ring was a mystical item she used to store and catalog them.
Scanning through the entries, Artcheli eventually zoomed in on one particular item: a cloudy crystal lens riddled with cracks. Below it was an annotation.
“High-grade Protective Observation Lens Crystal, recovered from the Saint Steel Vessel ‘Twilight Devotion’. Retrieved post-disaster in Tivian, from a damaged observation device. For unknown reasons, marked with the characters ‘…’”
Staring at the image of the crystal with its web of cracks and the blank annotation, Artcheli was momentarily silent. Then she quietly walked to a cabinet, opened it, and pulled out an iron box, which she set gently on her desk.
Opening the lid, she revealed a real crystal lens—identical to the one shown in the projection.
On its cracked surface, Artcheli could clearly make out several twisted, distorted letters. Piecing them together, the message read:
“GO TO STINAM!!”
…
Far west of the main continent—across the vast Starfall Sea—on the ancient land of the Starfall Continent.
By daylight, at the prosperous Tupa tribal settlement nestled in the expansive wilderness, atop a central high ground at the heart of the camp stood the great shaman’s tent. In front of it sat Uta, the shaman of the Tupa people, adorned in a floral ceremonial robe and an eagle-feather crown. He quietly surveyed his ever-growing tribe below.
Puffing calmly on his pipe, Uta’s eyes carried the warmth of a mentor watching his disciples as they shared newfound knowledge of this world with the rest of the tribe.
Then, suddenly, a cry pierced the air. The sharp cry of an eagle.
Uta’s expression instantly turned solemn as he looked skyward. A mighty eagle was circling overhead, descending toward him.
And when it reached a certain altitude—
The eagle spoke aloud.
“I have received the call. The most noble Spirit of Slumber has stirred. The Great Wilderness Rite must be held without delay… I am issuing the summoning once more…”