The light filtering through the high, arched windows of Amaforth Academy’s grand library was dim, casting a golden hue across the sprawling expanse of shelves and scrolls. Dust particles floated lazily in the beams of sunlight, and the faint scent of old parchment and ink filled the air, mingling with the more distant smells of the sea from beyond the academy walls. Amaforth, located on its remote island off the coast of Caelum, was said to hold all the wisdom a growing mage could ever need, but Rhea Alvarez had found no comfort in it, only frustration.

The Rune Knight's fingers trembled slightly as she turned the pages of an ancient tome. The golden eyes that had once burned with passion and fire were now dull, a grayish-blue with faint flickers of their former brilliance, flickers that seemed to grow more erratic and weak as time passed. Perhaps she should have been more worried about her condition than some ancient artifact, but she was almost entirely sure that this sickness would pass. She paused, squinting down at the cryptic text, her vision blurring. Another wave of dizziness hit her, and she instinctively gripped the edge of the desk to steady herself.

Every moment since her encounter with the moon in what seemed to be a dream, an encounter that felt more like an illusion, had left her body ravaged by illness. The sickness relentlessly gnawed at her insides, drained her strength, and yet refused to kill her outright. It left her in this state of limbo: too weak to feel alive, too stubborn to give in to the oblivion she could feel calling her from the corners of her mind. However, as long as she was alive, then there was time.

She knew the artifact, the Immortal Sun, held the key to her people's future. It was more than just a legendary artifact. In her heart, Rhea knew that it would play a pivotal role in the battle against Bosco and the forces that sought to dismantle everything she held dear. Stella—her homeland, her people, her mother, whether they knew it or not, depended on her to find it. Surely there were others on Stella searching for the same artifact, but if it was obtained by the wrong person, who knows what they'd do with such powerful magic. The thought of her tribe back home, her mother Talis leading them with dignity and resilience, fueled the fire that remained within her.

No assassins had come for her since the attempt in Fiore, and there had been no word of attacks on Stella, but that did not ease the urgency she felt. Her enemies were still out there, and they wouldn’t stop until she was dead, and her homeland was once again under their boot. The former Dragon Slayer's fingers absently traced the edge of the page before her, the ornate lettering swimming in and out of focus. Lector had come and go every so often to check in, doing whatever it was that he did when Rhea wasn't around.

She’d been here at Amaforth Academy for over a week, combing through every text she could find about ancient artifacts, about Stella’s past, its magic, anything remotely tied to the Immortal Sun.  Yet, despite the Academy’s vast collection, she had found nothing. Her frustration was only growing by the day, and her deteriorating health only made things worse. She had spoken to professors, mages, and scholars alike, seeking out their knowledge, hoping someone would offer a lead, a clue. But even they had little to say.

A soft cough escaped her lips, followed by a sharp pang in her chest. She grimaced, pressing her palm against her ribcage as if that would somehow ease the pain. Each breath felt like fire crawling up her throat. Whatever this sickness was, it was spreading through her faster than she could comprehend. Her magic was still with her, but even that felt distant, like trying to grasp at smoke. Her connection to Light mana—something that had once been so strong within her—was now severed. She hadn’t felt its warmth in weeks now, and though she could still feel a connection to some sort of mana, it all just felt so… wrong. Like she was missing a part of herself, and like she no longer knew who she was.

Her gaze flicked back to the book in front of her, skimming over the text again. Nothing. Another dead end. With a sigh, she closed it, pushing it aside and resting her head in her hands. The stone table felt cool beneath her palms, a small relief against the fever burning under her skin.

“Nothing,” she muttered under her breath, her voice barely above a whisper. The sound echoed in the otherwise silent library, but no one was close enough to hear her. The few other students and mages who occupied the library were too focused on their own studies to notice the worn-down Rune Knight hunched over her desk in the back corner.

Rhea clenched her jaw and stood up, though her legs felt like lead. She’d been sitting for too long, and the motion sent a wave of nausea crashing over her. She swayed on her feet but caught herself on the edge of the desk. Her stubbornness kicked in, as it always did, and she forced herself upright. There had to be something she was missing. Some corner of the Academy she hadn’t yet explored, some text buried deep in the archives that might hold the answers she sought. She couldn’t give up now—not when she had come so far.

Her mind drifted to the professors she had spoken to. Each one had been helpful, yes, but only to a point. They were knowledgeable about magic, about ancient spells, and artifacts, but none had any real leads on the Immortal Sun. Many of them had never even heard of it, and those who had only knew of it through myth and legend. No concrete information. Nothing she could use. She had hoped the Academy, being the largest institution of magical learning in the world, would have something more. But even here, it seemed the Immortal Sun was nothing more than a ghost story.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the rising tide of despair threatening to overwhelm her. It was getting harder and harder to stay focused, to keep going. Every day felt like a battle just to stay on her feet, to keep her mind sharp, and her instincts alive. But she couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when so much was at stake.

Slowly, she made her way across the library, her boots barely making a sound against the marble floor. The grand halls of Amaforth stretched on seemingly forever, each wing of the library dedicated to different fields of magical study. Rhea had spent most of her time in the history and artifact sections, but perhaps it was time to branch out. Magic was often intertwined in ways that weren’t immediately obvious, and there were other wings of the Academy that focused on more obscure branches of magecraft.

As she passed through the threshold into the wing dedicated to ancient and forgotten magic, a sense of unease settled over her. The lighting here was dimmer, the air cooler. Shelves towered above her, filled with scrolls and books so old they looked like they might crumble to dust at the slightest touch. It wasn’t exactly inviting, but Rhea wasn’t here for comfort.

She scanned the shelves, her fingers brushing over the spines of several ancient tomes as she passed by. Many of these books were written in languages she didn’t recognize, their covers marked with symbols she had never seen before. This was the kind of magic that only a handful of scholars even knew about. If the Immortal Sun were mentioned anywhere, it might be in one of these forgotten texts.

Her eyes settled on a particularly thick tome at the far end of the aisle, its cover worn and cracked with age. It looked promising—at the very least, it was one of the more significant volumes in this section. She pulled it from the shelf, the weight of it surprising her, and made her way to one of the nearby reading tables.

As she sat down, the exhaustion hit her again, but she forced herself to focus. The book creaked open, revealing pages filled with ancient runes and diagrams. She squinted, trying to make sense of the markings, but it wasn’t a language she was familiar with. A flicker of frustration sparked within her, but she pushed it aside. She could figure this out. She had to.

Time passed slowly as she pored over the book, trying to piece together the fragments of meaning from the symbols on the pages. Every now and then, a word or phrase would jump out at her, something vaguely familiar, but it was like trying to assemble a puzzle with half the pieces missing.

Her vision blurred again, and she blinked, trying to clear her head. But the sickness wouldn’t relent. Her hands trembled as she turned another page, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She was running out of time—both in terms of her health and the search. Amaforth had already proven to be a disappointment so far, and now even her body was betraying her.

"Come on..." she whispered under her breath, her voice strained. "There has to be something here. Anything."

But no matter how hard she tried, the book offered no answers. It was just another dead end in a series of dead ends. However, she had quickly come to a conclusion. If the college could not serve as the hub of knowledge she needed, then perhaps Talaz would. It may have been strange to rely on foreign information resources for an artifact in an entirely different country, but Fiore had some of the greatest magical institutions on earthland. There had to be something here.