Amara Cassan knelt on a dust covered stone floor, surrounded by books that were much older than she was. Though she was no child, twenty years of life could not even begin to compare with the centuries old leather bound tome that was in her hands. All around her were shelves that stretched from floor to tall ceiling, filled with books as well as jewelry, stones, and a variety of other oddities, some of which Amara had no name for. The sheer amount of knowledge and power that encircled her would astound the young woman if she had not already been in a somewhat foul mood. 

The curious sparkle that had lit her ice blue eyes as she ran her fingers across the spines of texts on every subject imaginable had faded before completely dying out after the first three days of sorting through seemingly endless piles of books. Just two weeks  ago she had been assigned the duty of taking inventory in the Glass Wing of the Stone Archive located just a day’s ride out of the city. The Stone Archives were, in essence, magical warehouses for the Mages’ Guild of Arenthus, well-fortified bastions of magical as well as non-magical knowledge. Each archive was a great edifice made of enchanted stone, heavily infused with magical wards, and there were many spread throughout the kingdom. After nearly a week of being in one such storehouse, Amara thought of the place as a stone prison, whose only notable contents were the excessive amount of dust she had been forced to inhale as she worked. Why she had been chosen for this task, she did not know. She was not even aware of why the Glass Wing in particular needed to be inventoried in the first place. Any polite questions she had posed had been met with glares from the bald, old magister who had informed her of her new task and given her a list of tomes from the Glass Wing that she was to return with when she was done. The old man had then gone on to inform Amara that her place as a low-ranking member of the Guild required her only to do as she was bid.

Amara had resigned herself to the sudden task with more than one frustrated sigh, and had made arrangements to travel to the archive amidst the laughs of her fellow mages for her unfortunate fate. It seemed rather like a punishment, especially considering the fact that she was the only one sent, though she had certainly done nothing to warrant it. [i]I can only be thankful[/i], she thought as she wrote the titles of countless books and items on parchment, [i]that I am only responsible for the contents of the Glass Wing, and not the entire archive.[/i] The Glass Wing was just one small branch of the archive, though not small enough for Amara’s taste. Thankfully, though it had seemed almost impossible, Amara was almost finished. She was more than anxious to return the capital city of Valmyra and the Mages’ Guild itself. The Stone Archives, though heavily fortified indeed, had no guards, nor any other living souls in them at all for most of the time. The magic set in the very foundation of the archives was enough to protect the building and its knowledge, which meant that Amara had been there completely alone, and the silence was beginning to get to her.

Amara stood with a sigh, putting the things spread out beside her back in their rightful places before trying to brush off some of the dust from her knees. Looking down at her own appearance, she realized the effort was hopeless. The plain breeches and shirt she wore were covered with the grime, the pale skin of her hands covered with a fine layer of dust as well, as was her hair. Normally falling to the small of her back in waves the precise color of black ink, she had tied her hair back for the occasion, but she was certain that if she were to look in a mirror at that moment, her hair and person in general would look like they were made of dust itself.  “One would think,” she muttered quietly, if only to break the silence, “that with all the magic contained in this place, there would be some spell to keep it all clean.”

Amara surveyed the lists she had created that day, glancing over everything to make sure there were no mistakes. She had been working tirelessly since she arrived, eager to finish the job and leave the place, and was more than slightly exhausted by this point. While magic may have enabled her to locate a specific book or item if she knew what she searched for, there was no spell nor old ritual that could inform her of everything that was there, and thus she was forced to take inventory manually, an aspect of her assignment she was less than fond of. She supposed she could return back to the archive’s Residential Wing and the small room she had been occupying during her stay. She had no idea what time it was however. The rooms she had confined herself to in order to complete her work were entirely windowless, perhaps it had to do with the protective wards that both kept away unwanted visitors and contained the magic within, but it only made the place seem horrible.[i] At least the Residential Wing has windows[/i], Amara thought sullenly. 

Taking up a fresh piece of parchment, Amara headed through one of the many twisting corridors that spread throughout the archive like a web of endless passageways. She decided that she could least get a bit more work done before she rested. When she entered the next room however, her blue eyes widened in surprise. She pulled the folded map of the archive’s floorplans from the leather pack she wore to make sure. This was the last room, the only space in the Glass Wing she had not yet covered. It appeared just as the others had, windowless and filled with shelves, tables, and display cases containing all manner of items the Guild considered to be of importance. It was lit by innumerable small glowing gems set into the stonework of the walls, their magic casting an even light throughout the room. This particular chamber was not nearly as large as some of its counterparts, something Amara was extremely grateful for. With slightly renewed vigor and a determined expression, Amara set to work once again, systematically and efficiently going through everything in sight.

She was not sure how much time had passed when she settled the last few pieces back onto their shelf: a large leather bound notebook, a gilded bird statuette, a jeweled ball, and a heavy tome on ancient cultures. Finished. She was finally finished. She sank to the ground, letting out a heavy sigh of relief. She could barely keep her eyes open, and falling asleep right there on the floor was starting to look like a very promising option. For the moment she just rested against the wall, content to simply sit. Tired light blue eyes swept over the room she had just conquered. She didn’t know what it was she possibly could have done to anger the ornery old magister who had sent her here, but at least now she was done. She was just about to rise and return to her small room and bed when her gaze fell upon a small object that seemed to be tucked out of obvious sight. With a muttered curse, Amara rose and stalked over to the offending item, which turned out to be a small wooden box, picking it up and settling it less than gently on the small table it appeared to have fallen off of. 

She examined the box carefully, having no clue as to what it might be. It was small, about the size of her fist, and ornate, made of a strange dark colored wood and covered in elegant carvings. She glanced over her papers, though there was nothing in the documents she had that would tell her what it was, or even if it was supposed to be in that particular room. Frustrated, she picked the box up, moving to open it only to find that she couldn’t. Amara raised the box to her eye level, trying to find a catch or release that would open the damned thing.  She ran her fingers all over its surface before she found a small indentation in the wood. Amara tried to open it once more before dropping the box back onto the table with a small yelp. She examined her finger, where a small bead of blood was forming from where she had pressed it into the notch in the wood. She hadn’t seen anything sharp earlier that could have pricked her. Amara glared at the box. Her normally calm demeanor vanishing in a wave of exhaustion and frustration, she grabbed it, determined to open the wretched thing if she had to tear it in half… and it opened effortlessly, as if it had never been sealed to begin with. She narrowed her eyes in confusion as she looked at the two wooden halves before setting them down to see what exactly was inside.

Laying on a bed of dark velvet was a necklace. It was beautifully ornate, a dark ruby set in gold, hung from a fine golden chain. Amara couldn’t help but pick it up, wanting to examine it more closely.  It was much heavier than one might expect from any kind of necklace. The gem was rather large, the size of the first joint of her thumb. It was framed by elegantly twisting pieces of gold that extended into complex spirals at the top and bottom of the pendant. The jewel was the color of dark wine, and seemed to glow ever so softly. She looked closer, realizing that it wasn’t a gem at all, but seemed to be a crystal vial filled with some kind of red liquid. It was the most exquisite piece of jewelry she could ever recall seeing, delicate in design yet somehow sharp and strong. It was fascinating, enchanting. Her earlier feelings of loneliness, irritation, and weariness all seemed to fade away as she gazed at the necklace in her hands. She wanted nothing more than to put it on, feel its weight. No, it was not hers to wear, but she only wanted to have it for a moment, just a moment. A distant part of her mind noted that something was wrong, that she should put down the necklace and leave, but she was unable to focus on anything other than the allure of the pendant.

With trembling hands she lifted the chain over her head and settled it around her neck, moving her hair out of the way as she did so. The necklace was long, coming to the middle of her chest. As soon as the pendant fell against her, its earlier weight seemed to vanish, and it was as light as air. For a moment there was nothing, and then Amara gasped as she felt something within her change. There was a sudden shift in the world around her. The air chilled. The steady glow of the gems in the wall flickered before dying completely, leaving her in complete darkness. Suddenly the necklace began to grow hot, and Amara cried out as it began to burn her at every point of contact. The pain was sharp and terrible, piercing through her entire person. With the pain her head became clear once more, and she clutched at the pendant, desperate to remove it, but she found she was unable to do so. In the next moment the pendant began to glow, illuminating the room once more in red. The strength of the light grew horribly bright, as if she wore a star around her neck, blinding her. And then the darkness returned all at once, as Amara crumpled to the floor, unconscious.