I placed my hand back on the black surface, concentrating on those words. The table responded immediately, the symbols swirling faster than before. But instead of forming another scroll, they began to pulse erratically, the silver light growing brighter until it was almost painful to look at.
"Something's wrong," Fenric frowned, reaching for my wrist. "Pull back."
Before I could move, a shockwave of energy erupted from the table, throwing us both backward. I landed hard on the stone floor, the breath knocked from my lungs. Fenric had somehow managed to twist in mid-air, taking the brunt of the impact as we fell.
"Are you alright?" His voice strained as he helped me sit up.
"I think so," I winced, checking for injuries. "What was that?"
"A rejection response," Fenric stood, pulling me up with him. "The Archive refused the query."
"Why would it do that?"
"Information lockdown. Some knowledge is restricted, even here." He brushed dust from his impeccable suit. "Which isconcerning, given that we're specifically authorized to access Chalice prophecy data."
I looked back at the table, which had gone completely dark. "So now what?"
"We try a different approach." Fenric's expression was determined as he led me to another section of the Archive, where the threads seemed to cluster more densely. "If we can't access direct information about the choice, perhaps we can examine the outcomes of previous Chalice prophecies."
We spent the next hour moving through the Archive, Fenric guiding me to different sections where historical prophecy records were stored. Each attempt yielded fragments of information, a Chalice-bearer in ancient Egypt who "redirected the river of time," another in medieval Europe whose choice "severed the threads of an empire," a third in feudal Japan who "became the vessel of death."
But every time we got close to understanding what these cryptic phrases actually meant, the Archive would shut us down, threads dissolving or tables going dark.
"This is frustrating," I finally declared, after our fifth attempt ended with another rejection. "It's like the Archive is deliberately hiding information from us."
"It is," Fenric confirmed, his usual bureaucratic composure slipping to reveal genuine concern. "Which shouldn't be possible. As a Bureau senior agent with Seer blood, accompanied by an active prophetic vessel, we should have near-complete access."
"Unless someone's changed the permissions," I looked around.
Fenric's eyes narrowed. "Or something is interfering with the Archive itself."
A low hum began to fill the chamber, the threads around us vibrating slightly. The mirrors on the walls began to ripple, like the surface of a pond disturbed by a thrown stone.
"What's happening?" I moved closer to Fenric instinctively.
"I'm not sure," he was scanning the chamber, his body tense. "But we should leave. Now."
We turned toward the entrance, only to find our path blocked by a wall of shimmering red threads that hadn't been there before. They had woven themselves together, forming an impenetrable barrier.
"Fenric?" My voice rose slightly in panic. I gripped his arm and he gently put his hand on my shoulder.
"Stay calm. The Archive is responsive to emotional states. Fear will only make it worse."
Easy for him to say. He wasn't the one with prophetic markings that were now pulsing erratically, responding to my rising anxiety.
We backed away from the thread barrier, only to find another forming behind us. Within minutes, we were enclosed in a shrinking circle of glowing red filaments.
"What's it doing?" I whispered, pressing closer to Fenric as the space continued to contract.
"I believe," Fenric's voice was surprisingly steady, "it's creating a vision chamber."
"A what?"
"A space where the Archive can show us possibilities." His hand found mine, fingers intertwining with surprising firmness. "Stay close to me. Whatever we see, remember it isn't real. Not yet."
The threads closed in further, until they were just inches from us on all sides. Then, suddenly, they flared with blinding light. I closed my eyes instinctively, clinging to Fenric's hand like a lifeline.
When I opened them again, we were no longer in the circular chamber. Instead, we stood in what looked like a laboratory, sleek and modern, with equipment I didn't recognize. But what caught my attention wasn't the room itself, but its occupants.
