The Architect sandbox [The Archiverse series]

Midnight — First Person View (Oliver)

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It's late.

Too late, probably.

Everyone's asleep — Martha, Dad, even Lyra with her head buried in her books, finally gave in to sleep hours ago.

Me? I'm still up.

The faint glow of the screen is the only light in my room. StarLink's interface is floating in front of me — bluish hues dancing across the walls, little rings spinning softly as the site loads. I made my own account weeks ago. Just "Olive"... yeah, they still call me that. It stuck.

I scroll through the feed. It's… not exactly like YouTube. The algorithm feels clunky. More primitive. Or maybe just different. Like it doesn't know me yet — or maybe it doesn't try to. It recommends videos based on region, species interest, even local Vita flow activity. Not clicks. Not views. Not virality.

No trending drama channels. No explosive thumbnails. No endless react videos. Honestly… kind of refreshing.

There's one video — a Traveler crafting a bridge made of frozen Vita above a moving lake. Another shows a beastkin girl with hyena spots laughing uncontrollably as she fails to control a fire orb and accidentally scorches her tail. There's an educational one on using Vita to accelerate plant growth. Another one from a quiet raccoon boy, just showing his daily walk by a riverbank. No talking. Just wind and water sounds. Peaceful.

I kind of like that one.

I don't really comment. I don't post either. Not yet. But I save things. I make playlists. I like watching how others exist. Quietly, honestly. It's… human. Even if most of them aren't.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone ever watches me when I walk by. Like how I watch them.

Or maybe I'm still just a shadow in the corner like I was back in Deerfield Beach Elementary… just this time, in a world of monsters and starlight.

The clock blinks 12:37 AM.

I should sleep. Probably.

But I let one more video load. The screen glows. A soft Vita-based animation plays — a wolf girl singing to herself as the moon rises behind her. Not polished. Not perfect.

But real.

And that's enough for now.

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Undecimber – Third Person View

Undecimber was no joke.

It wasn't just cold — it was the kind of chill that sank through coats, bones, and the soul. A month carved out of ice and draped in silence. The sky was always a strange twilight hue, as if the sun had given up trying to warm the world. The winds howled like wolves mourning a forgotten summer.

The snow wasn't white.

It was blue — rare and crystalline, like frozen starlight drifting down from the heavens. Blue snow was said to appear only when the Vita currents of the world dipped into their deepest stillness, as if the land itself was holding its breath. It wasn't dangerous — just… mystical. Quiet. Sacred, even. Kids didn't play in it. People watched it.

Oliver stood outside in the courtyard, bundled in his cloak and gloves, breath fogging the air. Undecimber wasn't part of the Earth calendar. It came after December — the 13th month of this strange world, wedged in by a celestial calendar that only the old spirits could explain.

His real birthday — Earth birthday — was in February. But ever since he arrived through the gate of the Black Tortoise, the world had reshaped his age to fit its own rhythm. His new birthday was in May now. Spring.

"Reborn," the Black Tortoise had said.

And so he had been.

Funny enough, Lyra's birthday fell now, deep in Undecimber's frozen heart. She was a true Sagittarius, through and through — once wild, stubborn, fearless. But now? She was quiet. Reserved. Always studying. Always somewhere far away, even when she sat right next to him.

Oliver watched the blue snow drift down. It sparkled faintly, glowing with tiny veins of Vita light, like something pulled from a fairytale.

Lyra's birthday was coming soon.

He wondered if she even wanted to celebrate it this year. Or if, like the cold around them, she'd rather let it pass in silence.

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(Season: Elyspring – Third Person View)

Elyspring.

That was the season's name, though many still didn't know if it truly belonged to spring or was a fleeting moment all its own. A season tucked between the last breath of winter and the first heartbeat of spring. It was brief—lasting maybe a month or two—but in that time, the world changed in ways that felt almost unreal.

The snow melted fast, but not into dull, gray slush. It gave way to blooms—bright, colorful petals bursting from the cracks in cobblestone, from between gnarled roots, and even along rooftops. The ground, still cool to the touch, was carpeted in vibrant mosses and fragrant grass. The air shimmered with color as pollen trails and Vita motes floated lazily, like the entire world was caught in a dream.

To most, spring was the season of life returning.

But Elyspring felt like the season of mystic awakening.

The skies were not the blue of Earth's springtime, but a soft amethyst hue, sometimes fading into gold at the edges. It smelled of blooming mintleaf, goldenhoney orchids, and faint ozone from the lingering essence of winter's cold spells breaking apart.

Some monsters called it "The Spirit's Walk," a season where nature spirits and unseen beings were closest to the surface world. Children often left wildflower crowns outside their windows in thanks.

Oliver felt it. Each time he walked outside, he felt that subtle energy prickling along his skin—Vita alive in everything, from the tiniest bee to the tree roots stretching beneath the ground.

He could sense water easier. Shape it without trying. His connection to the Black Tortoise always seemed stronger this time of year.

Students wore lighter colors—creams, soft pinks, pastel blues. Even Lyra had swapped her usual red jacket for a quiet olive shawl, her hair braided with a streak of golden thread.

And Oliver, in his soft brown cloak and travel boots, felt like some strange child of Earth wandering through a divine painting.

Yes… Elyspring was beautiful.

And yet, beneath its beauty, it whispered of changes coming.

Because once Elyspring faded… true Spring would arrive. And Spring meant growth.

And growth often came with pain.

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(Third Person View — Elyspring Walk)

Oliver walked alone through the soft path just beyond the school grounds—an open field carved between the glade and the edge of the town's sleepy outskirts.

The air was crisp, but not biting. The last touch of Undecimber's chill had long since faded, replaced by a kind of softness that only Elyspring could bring.

The grass under his boots was plush and glowing faintly with green-blue Vita, like nature itself was exhaling after the long, frozen sleep.

Petals drifted on the breeze like confetti from some invisible celebration. Birds he didn't recognize chirped above him—sounding too melodic, almost like they were harmonizing on purpose.

He paused by a small clearing where dozens of families had gathered—parents and children kneeling in the field, admiring the season's rare bloom.

The Elyspring Flameblossoms.

Delicate red flowers, glowing faintly at the center with a fire-like flicker. Their petals were soft and layered like silk, and they only bloomed once a year during Elyspring—sometimes only for a few days. They were said to bring fortune or revelations to those who found them.

Oliver watched quietly from the edge. A badger girl pointed excitedly as her mother gently helped her pluck a single blossom.

A rabbit boy was sketching them into his notepad with colored chalk, tongue poking out in concentration.

A pair of twin foxkin were weaving the flowers into their mother's long scarf.

Oliver stepped closer, his breath catching a little as he noticed how real it all felt. Not in a cinematic, magical kind of way—but something quiet, grounded…like peace itself had settled there for a moment.

He knelt nearby, not too close to the others, and reached out toward one of the Flameblossoms. He didn't pluck it. Just brushed his fingers along its petal—warm to the touch. Not hot like fire… but warm, like someone's hand.

It flickered slightly, and he felt a faint pulse in his bracelet—the one the Black Tortoise had given him long ago.

Still here, it seemed to say.

Oliver sat cross-legged, just watching. He could hear the kids laughing, the rustle of scarves, a parent softly humming an old tune about Elyspring, and a few Vita bubbles drifting lazily overhead from a group of deerkin practicing levitation spells nearby.

He didn't say anything.

He just… was.

A part of it all.

Even if only for this brief, blooming season.