Luckborn

Silas Blackwood leaned back in his leather chair, pressing steepled fingers against his lips. He took a breath, as if he were about to say something, but merely hummed.

He'd been like this for minutes. The tension was about to drive Otter crazy. He wanted—no needed—him to say something.

Otter had spent ten minutes telling the Overseer everything he'd learned about Emrys Gale, the potential for hidden classes, and the secrets he'd discovered in the man's journal. Silas had remained silent, save for asking a few clarifying questions.

Now, the Overseer regarded him with the same calculating stare Otter had come to dread. There was no hint of anger, no clear sign of approval or disapproval. Just that steady, unrelenting scrutiny. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally spoke. "To summarize, you believe the founders of this Academy, with the aid of divine influence, deliberately concealed certain Classes from the System." His voice was measured, unhurried. "And you would like permission to borrow an artifact from the Museum Annex because you believe it will lead you to a secret method of revealing those Classes."

"Yes, sir."

"And you are certain of your conclusions?"

"No, sir."

"Explain."

"Well, I've been reading secret passages from a centuries old journal that are mostly written in riddles. I've coupled that with unconfirmed rumors I've read in other texts. I don't think that warrants certainty on any level. I am, however, confident in my deductions based on the evidence I've gathered."

Blackwood laughed. "Spoken like a true scholar." Then the levity left his voice. "You think the compass will confirm your suspicions?"

"I think it's likely." Otter shifted, his voice growing steadier. "The last time I was in the Museum Annex, the compass acted strangely."

Blackwood's eyebrows rose. "You didn't mention this. Tell me more."

So Otter described what he'd seen and heard when he and Piper had undertaken their little adventure.

"Does Dane know about this?"

Otter shifted uncomfortably. "Not… everything. She witnessed some of the effects, but didn't know I was there."

"I see." He sighed. "First-years are always up to some mischief." He rubbed a hand over his face. "Well, I'll admit, this is intriguing. And also troubling."

"How so?"

Blackwood didn't respond right away. He stood, the leather of his chair creaking, and he paced toward the tall window behind his desk. Outside, the Academy grounds sprawled with their neat stone pathways and manicured greens. Students moved in clusters, their chatter lost behind the thick glass. From this vantage point, the Academy seemed orderly. Controlled. "You're not wrong to ask questions." He clasped his hands behind his back. "But understand that some questions have dangerous answers. And if your discoveries prove true, they will make some people very afraid."

Otter frowned. "Afraid?"

"The System has kept civilization intact for five hundred years. It provides us with the structure and power to defend ourselves against Kaos, to make advancements in magical theory, to improve our lives. People crave that stability, that security. That is what people cling to."

"But that stability is cracking." Otter's words escaped before he could temper them. "The Kaosborn attacks are getting worse. Villages are disappearing. Even fortified cities aren't safe anymore."

For the first time, Blackwood's expression flickered. He didn't deny it.

"I've read the reports," Otter continued. "I've seen the casualty counts. The guilds are losing experienced adventurers faster than they can replace them. And from what I hear, the Kaosborn are growing stronger. More organized. We can't afford to ignore any possible advantage."

Blackwood's silence was unbearable.

"Overseer," Otter pressed, "I'm not asking for unrestricted access to the archives or to uncover every forgotten secret. I'm asking to borrow a compass that's been sitting behind a glass case for a hundred years. Maybe it will lead to nothing. But maybe it will lead us to something that can help."

The room hung in stillness. The weight of the request lingered, but Otter didn't lower his gaze. He held firm, waiting.

Blackwood turned back from the window. "I agree that this warrants further investigation. On my part. I would like to verify your findings in Gale's journal. Then I would like to see this compass in your presence. Only then, will I be prepared to render a decision."

"That sounds fair, sir."

"Good. I will send for you when I am ready. In the meantime, do not speak of this to anyone else." His gaze turned steely. "I am certain, of course, that you have already told others of your findings. Swear them to secrecy. And bring no one else into your little circle. Am I clear?"

Otter swallowed. "Crystal."

"You are dismissed."

Without another word, Otter gathered his notes and left the office.

***

In the center of Aurelia stood a massive temple to Caelum. People from all over the Free Realms came to visit. On a typical day, the priests might usher several hundred visitors through its halls to pray or make an offering in the mighty cathedral. These public places were decorated with fine tapestries and artworks depicting Caelum and his servants in glorious triumph over Kaos.

But there were other places not seen by the masses. Places where only the priests, Conduits, and other devout followers were allowed. These places were more austere, lacking the comforts and decor desired by tourists.

In one such room, a man knelt before a small altar. Marcus Dewali had been a Divine Conduit in service to Caelum for five years. The first three had been within the confines of the Enclave at the Academy. He had only increased to Level 4 since leaving, but he found his time well spent ministering to the people of Aurelia.

Incense curled lazily toward the ceiling. The only sound was the murmuring of Marcus's prayers. Just as he reached the crescendo of his devotion, a shift in the atmosphere sent a chill down his spine. The soft crackle of the incense seemed to morph into a voice, vibrating with a power that demanded his attention.

With a sudden clarity, Marcus felt a profound call pulling him deeper into his consciousness. He closed his eyes tighter, grounding himself as the energy took hold, wrapping around him in vivid luminescence. A vision unfolded, vivid yet blurred, like watercolours bleeding into one another.

"The Seal is threatened," a voice resonated within him. The urgency was palpable as images shot past Marcus's mind's eye: a group of students navigating the eerie depths beneath Ironside Keep. Their faces were indistinct, shrouded in an ominous darkness, yet the sense of their youth and inexperience was strikingly clear.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"You must protect the Seal," echoed the words, slicing through the haze. The students were exploring uncharted dangers. Shadows danced around them, hinting at the chaos that brewed within the darkness, a chaos that threatened to consume everything.

In a flash, the connection began to wane, the luminous clarity fading back into the dull, stone-solid reality of the room. Marcus opened his eyes, breathless and shaken. The incense continued to rise, but the tranquil ambiance had transformed into an urgent call to action. He was no longer just a minister to the faithful; he was a guardian of something much larger.

As he rose from the altar, determination surged within him. "Order will prevail," he vowed quietly, steeling himself against the uncertainty ahead. He turned, striding purposefully toward the door, knowing he had to find those students and ensure they were unable to complete their mission.

***

Otter had barely stepped into the library for his evening work detail when he saw Blackwood standing just beyond the entrance, dressed in a sharp charcoal waistcoat and a dark overcoat that brushed the tops of his polished boots. His expression was calm with a hint of what Otter though might be amusement in his eyes.

Beside him stood Archivist Dane, arms crossed, jaw set. She wore her typical uniform — a fitted navy jacket with brass buttons over a white blouse and a plaid skirt. Though her curls were neatly tied back, the look in her eyes was anything but composed. She was furious.

"Bennett," Blackwood said curtly.

"Sir."

Otter resisted the urge to straighten his jacket. The weight of Dane's glare was enough to make his skin crawl.

"I take it she knows?" Otter asked, attempting a weak smile.

"Oh, I know," Dane snapped. "What I don't know is how you thought sneaking into the Annex like a common thief was a good idea."

"Water under the bridge, Elora. Let it be," said Blackwood.

Dane huffed, but said no more. Though Otter thought he heard her muttering under her breath.

The Overseer turned on his heel, already striding through the grand marble corridor. His footsteps echoed against the polished stone. Dane kept a deliberate distance, though Otter could feel the weight of her judgment every step of the way.

The Library's halls were quiet, but not vacant. As they passed, eyes were drawn to them. Conversations faltered. Quickly, though, they left the well-visited parts of the Library behind, moving deeper into the labyrinth of corridors. Otter soon found himself unsure of his location, but Blackwood moved with confidence. They rounded a final corner and came to the Museum Annex. Otter was sure it had been somewhere else last time he'd seen it.

Ancient tapestries depicting scenes of the Kaos Wars and other, more obscure histories Otter wasn't familiar with hung on the walls. Rows of glass cases gleamed beneath vaulted ceilings, each containing artifacts of historical significance — shattered weapons, obsolete magical tools, fragments of Kaosborn armor.

But Otter's gaze fixed on the the display at the far end of the room.

The compass.

It rested beneath a protective dome of glass, the brass casing cracked and dull. Delicate etchings of constellations curled along its surface, framing the needle that remained perfectly still. Even now, in the steady light of the Annex, it seemed unnaturally still. No sway. No tremble. Just an eerie, absolute stillness.

"This," Blackwood said, stopping before the display, "is what you believe holds the key."

Otter's throat tightened. "Yes, sir."

Blackwood studied the compass in silence. Then, without so much as a glance toward the curator, he gave a single command.

"Open it."

Dane's fingers tightened around the ring of keys at her waist. Her jaw clenched so tightly that Otter thought it might crack. The silence stretched, thick and heavy.

"Archivist Dane," Blackwood said, his tone firm but calm. "The case."

For a moment, Otter thought she might refuse. She certainly looked like she wanted to. But after a tense beat, she stepped forward. The brass buttons on her jacket gleamed under the soft light of the magical lanterns adorning the walls as she selected the correct key. She moved with deliberate precision, though Otter didn't miss the slight tremor in her hands.

"The Annex is not a toy box," she muttered, sliding the key into the lock. "Artifacts are sealed away for a reason."

The runes etched into the glass flickered faintly as the lock clicked open. A pulse of residual magic swept through the air — not aggressive, but old. Like the lingering note of a forgotten song. Slowly, she lifted the dome, setting it aside with practiced care.

Without the glass barrier, the compass seemed almost… aware. It sat in its velvet-lined display, unmoving, yet somehow watchful.

"There," Dane said tersely, stepping back. "It's open. Satisfied?"

Blackwood ignored her tone. "Mr. Bennett." He gestured toward the compass. "Proceed."

Otter's palms felt clammy. This was what he'd wanted—to examine the compass without interference, without the risk of discovery. But now, with both Dane and Blackwood watching, the weight of his own uncertainty settled heavily in his chest.

Still, he stepped forward.

The display case was waist-high, the compass resting on a dark velvet cushion that had been slightly indented from years of stillness. Up close, the engravings along the rim were more intricate than he remembered. Tiny constellations, swirling patterns, and delicate runes lined its surface. Some were ancient sigils he couldn't identify, while others appeared to be fragments of more modern symbols. It was as though the compass had been altered over time.

Carefully, Otter reached down, his fingertips brushing the cold brass.

The moment his skin made contact, the air in the room shifted. A tiny tremor, like a ripple across still water.

The compass pulsed.

A dull glow emerged from the cracks in its casing, soft and golden. At first, it was barely noticeable, but then it intensified. Threads of glowing energy traced the fractured etchings, like veins of molten gold awakening beneath the surface. The symbols along the rim burned with renewed brilliance.

Otter gasped, nearly pulling his hand away. But he didn't.

The needle, once lifeless, jerked. It twitched once. Then twice. And then it spun. Faster and faster. It whirled in impossible directions, no longer bound to the laws of magnetism. It had no regard for true north, no natural alignment. The spinning needle cast warped shadows against the cracked glass.

And then came the voices.

Soft, indistinct, like whispers carried on the breeze. Otter strained to make out the words, but they were layered — dozens of them, speaking in a language he didn't recognize. Some were hushed, reverent. Others trembled with urgency. But beneath it all, a single tone echoed: curiosity.

The compass was aware of him.

He could feel it. Like another person was in the room with them. It was ancient, fractured, and yet very much awake. The whispers grew louder, persistent. Like they wanted to be understood.

Otter's breathing quickened. He didn't know whether to let go or hold on tighter.

Then his wrisplay buzzed.

Objective Complete: Discover Emrys Gale's secret.

New Objective: Follow Emrys Gale's Compass.

The others didn't seem to notice.

"Elora," Blackwood said, his voice low. "What is this?"

"I— I don't know," Dane stammered. "It's never done this before."

Blackwood took a step closer. The glow from the compass illuminated the hard lines of his face. "Mr. Bennett," he said firmly, "can you control it?"

Control it? Otter wasn't sure it was possible to control something like this. But he nodded, forcing himself to steady his racing thoughts.

He focused. Breathed. The whispers didn't cease, but as he centered his thoughts, they seemed to ebb. The compass responded in kind. The needle's frantic spinning slowed, twitching in uncertain intervals. The light dimmed, though it didn't vanish entirely. The whispers retreated.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the compass stilled. The needle quivered once and stopped.

Otter released a shaky breath.

Blackwood studied him, his sharp gaze betraying both fascination and concern. "Remarkable," he murmured. "It reacted to you."

"Yeah," Otter managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dane, still visibly shaken, stepped closer, though she kept a wary distance from the artifact. "This is dangerous," she said through gritted teeth. "Whatever that was, it wasn't harmless. Artifacts that respond like this are never harmless."

"And yet it did not harm him," Blackwood said, his tone even. "It chose to respond. That is not something we can ignore."

Otter set the compass back in the case. "I think you should see this, too."

He pulled his sleeve up and swiped his wrisplay, revealing the objective screen.

Dane sucked in a breath. Blackwood leaned closer. "It seems the decision is out of hands, Elora. The System itself has weighed in."

Dane shook her head. "This is… unprecedented."

Silas chuckled. "Perhaps. And yet…" his voice trailed off. "Arrangements will need to be made."

"Otter," Dane said, her voice no longer icy. "I've always known there were spirits haunting some of these artifacts. But I never imagined… well, I think we have some things to discuss."

"Indeed," said Blackwood. "We all have much to discuss. Otter, I'm going to ask that you keep this under wraps still, but rest assured, you have my support in exploring this further. I want this to remain quiet as long as possible and will need to take some precautions before we move forward. And I say 'we' with intent. You and I will be working closely on this. Understood?"

Otter nodded.

"Dane, I will be in touch soon." With that, the Overseer turned, his overcoat sweeping behind him as he strode toward the exit.

Otter lingered, his gaze still fixed on the now-silent compass. The whispers had faded, but a strange certainty lingered within him.

This was his destiny.