“So… if Dominus Demeterra hates our Arte… why did she send you?”

  Morres didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he rolled his shoulders, a languid stretch like he had all the time in the world, despite the gravity of the conversation. When he finally spoke, his voice was casual—too casual.

  “She hates it because she knows—without question—what your Arte is most likely to evolve into. Our final evolutions are shaped by…” He waved a hand vaguely, as if gesturing at something unseen. “You know what? I’ll let you figure that out.”

  I scowled. Again? This was just like when I was younger, demanding answers about Otherrealm Gates, only to be met with vague reassurances and outright refusals. Back then, I had wanted to step through a Gate at seven years old—had nearly begged for it. I had been denied. Repeatedly. You aren’t ready, Alexander. You don’t understand.

  I hated being denied.

  “Okay, so she knows what it will be, and it’s… an antithesis of hers?” I guessed, arms crossing.

  Morres shook his head slowly, exhaling as if I was the one being frustrating. He stretched again, yawning, his golden skin catching the dim light. “Nah. It’s not that it violates her Arte—it violates her Truth.”

  The way he said that word—Truth—was powerful. Commanding.

  The entire study trembled with it. The bookshelves, despite being mostly barren, resonated with the word. The two colored books on the desk shuddered. Even the ink on the pages of books not yet written quivered in response.

  My breath caught. I took a step back. “What… was that?”

  The words left my mouth in a whisper, awe, wonder, and curiosity clawing for an answer.

  Morres smirked. “My Providence,” he answered smoothly, as if that explained everything. “What the Domini call it, anyway.”

  I swallowed. “Providence?”

  “The Truth—what we know of ourselves.” He lifted one hand, palm up.

  “The Lie—what we wish we were.” His other hand mirrored the first.

  “And the Ideal—the combination in between.” His hands came together, fingers interlocking, seamless. Complete.

  A shiver ran down my spine. Truth. Lie. Ideal.

  “…And what does that mean for me?” I asked, voice barely above a breath.

  Morres’ diamond-bright teeth flashed as he grinned.

  “That, little Bibliokinetic…” Morres stepped forward, his opalescent eyes locking onto mine. There was something weighty in his gaze, something that knew far more than he was telling me.

  “That isn’t something I can just give you,” he continued, his voice smooth as glass but sharp enough to cut. “I can say this much—you’ve touched upon your Truth. Multiple times, in fact. You even know what it is, deep down. You have the words.” He gestured vaguely with his hand. “Hell, I’ve said the words already.”

  I stiffened.

  “You simply don’t have the right… picture yet,” he added. “You have the words of your Truth, but not the understanding of what they mean. Think about it. Are there any words that resonate with you? Ones that keep shimmering in your thoughts, repeating when you aren’t paying attention?”

  Something in my chest lurched.

  It clicked.

  I knew it.

  Morres knew I knew it.

  His lips curled into that sharp, knowing smile.

  Everything has a price.

  I exhaled, the weight of realization pressing against me. My shoulders sagged, yet I felt lighter, as if some invisible chain had been undone.

  “…Does this mean I’m greedy?” I muttered.

  Morres chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, yes. You are. But not for money. Probably. From what I know…You hunger for knowledge. You hunger for adventure, for freedom—for an escape from your mother’s grasp.” His eyes gleamed. “You were willing to pay the price you didn’t even realize you were paying. You understood that nothing was free… but the price you’re paying? It isn’t measured in coin.”

  I closed my eyes.

  And suddenly, an image burned into my mind.

  A statue. A weeping, broken statue, clutching a burning book in its arms. Its tears—black, thick with ink and ichor—stained the stone beneath it, dripping like rivers of sorrow. Around the statue, the scales of balance lay shattered, their pieces scattered like the remnants of a dying star, strewn across a vast, empty void.

  The price of victory? Pain.

  The price of law? Chaos.

  The price of power? Isolation.

  The price of progress? Prejudice.

  The price of my folly? Injuries. Death. Destruction.

  Everything has a price.

  The weight of the thought pressed down on me, suffocating in its truth. My mind spun, trying to reconcile the cost of each decision. What had I done? What would I have to do? The scales before me? They weren’t just broken—they were asking for balance. They demanded it.

  I reached out, not physically, but mentally. I willed the scales to shift. They did.

  The statue's once blackened tears began to change—no longer just ink, no longer just ichor. The liquid began to shimmer, to glow, as if pulling the very stars from the heavens. Nebulae swirled in the blackness, galaxies were born in its wake, stars igniting in the empty space. The book still burned, yes, but now it was open. Not a destructive blaze, but one that emitted light—thousands of stars, planets, possibilities—radiating outward, each one a consequence, each one a decision.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The scales now shifted—restless. Constantly weighing. Every option. Every choice. Every reward. Every price.

  I stood before them, feeling the pull of choice in my bones.

  Everything has a price. The whisper of it lingered in my mind like a forgotten truth.

  I stood there, heart hammering, breath shallow, eyes locked onto the scales. I had to choose. I had to balance. Was I willing to pay what needed to be paid? Was I willing to sacrifice? To give up something dear in exchange for the unknown? What was the cost of my progress?

  And more importantly… was I ready for the consequences of that choice?

  ***

  I had awoken, though not fully, still teetering on the edge of consciousness. My mind felt sluggish as I slowly sifted through the pile of unread Gloss messages that flooded my feed. Most of them were simple—detailed reports of the team's current locations, attempts to wake me from the haze that had overtaken me. Apparently, when I had lost consciousness during my meditation, the system automatically triggered medical alerts, notifying everyone in my team. They all had taken priority, trying their best to get me back to the surface. Their concern was touching.

  But it wasn't the urgent messages that caused a spark of relief in me. No, the notification that caught my eye—and made my lips curl into a smile—was Cordelia's.

  Cordelia: Location: Echo Delta 9. ETA with stretcher: 5 minutes.

  Five minutes. Just five more minutes. I could handle that. The moment I read it, a strange sense of calm washed over me, as if a weight had lifted from my chest. I still felt the remnants of pain in my body, the dull ache from my injuries, but it didn’t seem as unbearable anymore.

  As I lay there, I noticed something else. Something more profound. I felt... different. More... real. That was the phrase that kept echoing in my mind. My senses were sharper, more attuned to my surroundings. It wasn’t just physical clarity, though that was part of it—it was like I had awoken to a version of myself that felt truer, more authentic than I had ever known. I had always been driven by purpose, by the responsibilities that weighed on me, but now? Now it was as if I could feel myself for the first time, without any distractions, any external demands pulling at me.

  I stretched, and the ache in my muscles felt almost... right. It was as if my body was coming back into alignment, like I was finally becoming the person I was meant to be. Even the way I breathed seemed deeper, more in tune with the world around me. It was subtle, but it was there.

  Five minutes. I could wait. But I couldn’t shake the sense that something else was shifting within me. A new chapter was beginning, and I could feel it starting to unfold. A part of me couldn’t help but wonder if it was all tied to what I had experienced—what I had just discovered—inside my spirit. There was more to my journey ahead. More to me.

  I became aware of a subtle sensation—a faint pressure on my finger. My hand instinctively reached up, and there it was: a ring. Not the thumb ring I used for my bow, nor the access ring for the suite. This one was different. It was something new, something... unfamiliar. It had an intricate design embossed on its surface, one I instantly recognized. It was the same statue I had seen earlier, the one in the vision—a weeping, broken statue clutching a burning book in its arms, ink bleeding from its eyes like thick, black ichor.

  The ring's surface shimmered, almost imperceptibly, as if it were alive with the same ethereal colors as the nebula. Radiant swirls of purple, blue, and pink glowed from within, pulsing gently with an almost hypnotic rhythm. It expanded and contracted with each subtle shift, like a living, breathing thing. I couldn't look away. It was mesmerizing. The beauty of it felt so familiar, yet so foreign, as though it was tied to something I hadn’t quite discovered yet.

  Five minutes passed in what felt like a dream. The world around me was distant, the weight of everything else fading into the background as I lost myself in the ring's glow. My focus was lost—no thoughts of duties, responsibilities, or even pain. It was as if everything had quieted down, leaving me in a kind of suspended reality. The only sound was the soft hum of the ring, the rhythm of its pulses syncing with my own breath.

  Then, as if the universe had decided to pull me back to the present, the silence was broken by the familiar ping of a Gloss notification.

  Cordelia: Pinging Gloss. Please ping back.

  I blinked, the sudden return to reality feeling like a sharp jolt. The glow of the ring dimmed slightly, but its presence still lingered, pressing in on my awareness.

  I raised my hand instinctively, placing it on the ground to steady myself. My mind sharpened as I refocused.

  5939: Acknowledged. Pinging back.

  The Gloss responded almost immediately, a sense of urgency in Cordelia's next words.

  Cordelia: Status report, now.

  I sighed, shaking my head as I forced myself to clear the lingering fog that seemed to cling to my mind. The ring's influence, subtle as it was, had nearly lulled me into a trance. It was so easy to be distracted by its beauty, by the feeling of it, but I had to refocus. There was too much left to process, too many questions I didn’t have answers for yet. But for now, I had a duty, and I needed to stay sharp.

  5939: Fine? Fine as I can be. Where are you all? I’m in a hole.

  I could almost hear Cordelia’s sharp exhale through the comms, her unflappable exterior barely masking the worry beneath.

  Cordelia: Following the carnage you created—and searching for your Gloss comms. We’ve located you, another three minutes.

  Her words sent a flicker of relief through me, but I couldn't afford to linger on that feeling. Every second was precious, and I still had no idea what was coming next.

  The minutes stretched on, though they felt like hours. I could almost hear the weight of the silence closing in around me, but then, as promised, Cordelia’s voice came back through.

  When they found me, the scene was as surreal as it was beautiful. A field of flowers—delicate and vibrant, their petals stained crimson—spread out like a blanket around me. The blood from my injuries seemed to almost soak into them, but in a way that felt... nurturing. The flowers, as if guided by some unseen hand, gently cradled me, lifting me from the hole in the hill with a grace that almost made the pain bearable.

  I didn’t know how long it took for them to move me, but once I was on the stretcher, I finally allowed myself to breathe again. Relief flooded through me in a way I hadn’t expected.

  But then something unexpected happened. Cordelia, ever the composed and professional one, paused. Her gaze softened, and for a brief moment, I thought she might speak again. Instead, she did something I couldn’t have predicted.

  She pulled me into a hug.

  It wasn’t long or lingering, but it was enough. The warmth of her arms, the weight of the moment, everything that had been left unsaid in our dangerous game of survival… it all poured out in that one act.

  I stiffened for a moment, unsure of how to react. But then, as if by instinct, I allowed myself to sink into it, just for a second. My breath steadied, my pulse slowing as I realized that this wasn’t just about surviving the monsters, or the battles, or the weight of our duties. There was something about the quiet comfort in that gesture—something that reminded me of my humanity.

  But that moment passed quickly, as moments always do. Cordelia pulled back just as swiftly as she had embraced me, her usual sharpness returning.

  Cordelia: Don’t get used to it. We have work to do.

  Her words, though tinged with the usual indifference, felt different this time. There was something softer in her text, something more… genuine. The walls that usually separated us seemed to have cracked just a bit, even if only for a fleeting moment. And though I didn’t fully understand it, I knew one thing for certain:

  We were in this together. For better or worse.