The one retrieved from The Void

"What are the Forgotten, Father?" Celine asked, her voice trembling.

"A legend from millennia past," Gerald replied. "The Forgotten are entities lost to time, knowledge erased from our world."

"Is that so scary?" Abigail interjected, trying to dispel the growing fear.

"You're thinking of things we've forgotten because they were insignificant," Gerald explained. "But among the Forgotten, according to ancient lore, were beings so dangerous they were forbidden from memory. Those are the ones to fear."

"Why would those beings be here now?" Clara asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"I don't know," Gerald replied, his brow furrowed in concentration. "As you know, after retiring, I've spent countless hours delving into ancient myths and history. There are legends, incredibly old ones, about a race called the Aevum. Our knowledge of them is fragmentary, a patchwork of disconnected stories." He continued, "They believed in a place called the Void, where forgotten things reside. That's where the 'Forgotten' originated, according to these legends. The Aevum also spoke of a ruler of this Void, an entity known only as the Archivist."

"So, if this Archivist were influencing the world, they could be the reason for all this," Arthur suggested.

"I don't know," Gerald replied, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"The solar system," Clara interjected.

Celine turned to her, her voice laced with disbelief. "Are you implying this is happening everywhere?"

"Not implying," Clara replied firmly. "I received a call. There are reports of the green moon and Amrita's defiance on other planets."

A heavy silence descended upon the room as they contemplated the implications.

"If we do nothing, will this end?" Gerald asked, his voice echoing in the quiet room.

"Yes," the ghostly voice responded.

Suddenly, his consciousness was enveloped in an ethereal green light, and he was transported to a place that defied description. It was a library, but on a scale that defied comprehension. Towering bookshelves stretched into an endless horizon, their surfaces etched with strange, otherworldly symbols. The air was thick with the scent of decay and forgotten knowledge. A chill crept down his spine as he realized there was no discernible pattern to the arrangement of the books, as if they had been placed haphazardly by an indifferent cosmic force. The library was a labyrinth, a place where time seemed to lose its meaning.

With each step, the realization of the library's immensity grew. It was not merely large; it was infinite. There was no beginning, no end, only an endless expanse of knowledge. The weight of this realization pressed down on him, a heavy, oppressive force. As he ventured deeper, the lights began to dim, replaced by an eerie phosphorescence emanating from the books themselves. It was a place of shadows and secrets, where the boundaries of reality seemed to blur.

As he delved deeper into the labyrinthine library, a sense of unease grew within him. The air thickened with an ethereal quality, and the distant hum of the turning pages became a haunting melody. Finally, he reached a worn wooden desk, its surface etched with intricate carvings.

Seated behind it was a woman of otherworldly beauty. Her skin was pale and translucent, as if bathed in an eternal moonlight. Her dark hair, streaked with silver, cascaded around her like a shimmering veil. Her eyes, a deep, fathomless green, held an ancient wisdom that seemed to pierce through time. Despite her ethereal appearance, there was a strength and resilience in her posture, a silent defiance against the encroaching darkness of the library. She wore garments of shimmering fabric that seemed to shift and change color with the light, and her hands, delicate yet powerful, were adorned with intricate rings that pulsed with an inner light.

"Sit," the woman commanded, her voice carrying an authority that compelled obedience. A chair materialized seemingly out of thin air. Vastian complied without hesitation.

"Nice to finally meet you, Vastian," she said, her voice holding a hint of a smile.

"Nice to meet you too, 'The one who retrieves the void,'" Vastian replied.

She continued to scan the books, her attention focused intently. "If you don't mind me asking, what do I look like to you?"

Vastian described the scene in detail, his words painting a vivid picture of the ethereal library and the woman's otherworldly appearance.

"Interesting," she mused, her gaze shifting from the books to him. "Do you know why you're here?"

"I guess because I passed the other test?" Vastian ventured.

"Mmmm, that's only part of the reason," she replied, a mysterious smile playing on her lips. "You are here because, technically, you belong here."

Vastian was taken aback. He had no idea what "here" was or what she meant by that.

"This place," she began, "is where everything forgotten eventually finds its way. Some things were naturally forgotten, while others were expunged from history and had to be forgotten. Everything ends up here, and I am their custodian, the guardian of all lost knowledge in the world," she explained. "Now, let me ask you something. The man you encountered during the first part of the test, who do you believe he was?" she inquired, her gaze piercing.

"I don't know... maybe my future self?" he replied hesitantly.

"Wrong," she said firmly. "He was your past self. You see, you are a paradox. You are meant to be forgotten, which is why I could locate your soul when you entered the circle. Otherwise, no one could have, due to that insidious seal they placed on you."

As her words sank in, Vastian's face turned pale.

"Oh, yes, the seal. I almost forgot about that," she continued nonchalantly. "Someone placed a seal on you shortly after your birth, effectively severing you from the particle of creation. What do you people call it... Mmmm... Amrita," she said, watching Vastian's reaction.

"Now, there are other matters to address. As I mentioned, you are a paradox. You are both forgotten and yet exist in the world, which disqualifies you from being entirely forgotten. Your soul is ancient yet remarkably young," she mused. "But, thanks to you, I realized something crucial. I had been dormant for quite some time, and your Unveiling awakened me. In that moment, I noticed something: someone has stolen some of the forgotten from here." Her voice grew louder, a hint of anger creeping in.

"I want to propose a deal," she said, her tone softening. "If you help me recover those who have been stolen, I will allow you to live your life," she concluded, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that left no room for doubt.

The woman's offer hung in the air, a tantalizing promise amidst the growing sense of dread. Vastian knew he had stumbled upon something far greater than himself, something that could reshape the fate of the universe.

Now, as Vastian considered the offer, a new thought emerged. "I want to change the deal," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "I want to find out more about myself, since my soul is supposed to be forgotten, can you tell me more about it?"

The woman regarded him with a newfound interest. "You're asking a lot," she said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Usually, mortals are content with simple survival."

"I'm not a mortal," Vastian replied, his determination growing.

She leaned forward, her eyes glinting with curiosity. "Very well. But understand, knowledge comes with a price."

Then, with a gesture, three ancient-looking books appeared on the desk. "These hold the key to your understanding," she said. "Choose one, and with each subsequent Unveiling, you will be granted another."

The books were blank, offering no clues. Guided by instinct, Vastian reached for the book on the right. A surge of unfamiliar emotions washed over him as he opened it.

"Personality, huh," the Archivist mused. "I wonder which will dominate."

Vastian was inundated with a maelstrom of emotions as he delved into the book. It was as if he were drowning in a sea of memories, not his own, but belonging to another self. There were moments of joy, of triumph, of love, but also profound sorrow, fear, and a sense of loss that was almost physically painful. It was a chaotic symphony of experiences, a cacophony of the soul. When he finally emerged from the overwhelming sensory overload, he was left breathless, his mind reeling.

"So, how did it feel, to touch the personality of your past self?" the Archivist asked, her voice carrying an echo of eternity.

"It was like drowning and resurging at the same time," Vastian replied, his voice trembling slightly. "A chaotic symphony of emotions, both familiar and alien."

"That's because it's your past, not your present or future," the Archivist explained, her voice carrying a weight of ancient wisdom. "You must discern what resonates with your current self. The past is a labyrinth of potential futures, and you hold the key to choosing your path."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with implication. It was a daunting task, one that would require careful consideration and introspection. Vastian realized then that he was standing at a crossroads, a choice that would shape the rest of his existence.

He could do nothing but smile as a surge of clarity washed over him. Something within his past self had unlocked a hidden path. His smile widened as he looked at the Archivist.

"Okay, what's next?" he asked, eager to proceed.