Finding Answers: Chapter Two
An Unlikely Pair
"As iron sharpens iron, So a man sharpens the countenance of his friend."
"Wow, I didn't know this place existed," the boy said, half-ignoring Ruth as he stepped closer to the pond's edge.
Then, as if just realizing she was there, he turned to her. "Oh, hey there," he said casually. "Did you happen to see a squirrel run this way?"
Ruth just stared.
As the towering figure stood before her, she couldn't decide which she liked more; his sparkling eyes or his amazing golden hair that shifted gently in the breeze.
She turned bright red.
"I'm Andrew of the Archives, by the way. And you are?"
Ruth blinked rapidly.
"Oh, wait, you can't talk? And how are you so white? What ointments do you use?" Andrew inquired further, gesturing with some form of sign language he invented on the spot.
Ruth's answers to his avalanche of questions didn't go beyond a few nods. Andrew, at this point, was convinced he wouldn't get much out of her.
"I'll be on my way then, my lady," he said with a slight bow, an old habit from having two older sisters, before tightening the strap of the small backpack slung across his back and wandered off.
Ruth stood frozen, watching him disappear into the thick bushes that enclosed the sides of the waterfall, the rustling leaves marking his departure.
For a moment, she simply stood there, still feeling the rush of the encounter. Then, remembering why she had come, she quickly picked the tiny plants she needed, tucking them carefully into a leaf bag to keep them fresh before slipping the bundle into the pocket of her dress.
She then made for the Archives, secretly hoping she might run into a certain boy again.
A few people glanced her way as she walked through the streets, but she paid them no mind.
Soon, the Archives came into view, towering over the landscape.
Its great stone walls, worn yet sturdy, stood tall against the sky, their surfaces crawling with flowering vines. The structure was unlike anything else, its architecture a marvel lost to time. No one knew exactly how it had been built, only that it had always been there.
Some, especially among the Clan of the Masons, believed that in ancient times, men had knowledge like gods and could create anything their hearts desired.
Others whispered a different tale; that the Archives had once been an attempt to reach the heavens, only for the knowledge within to be sealed away by a greater power.
Whatever the truth, one thing was certain: the Archives held the history and knowledge of their people.
A stone path led up to its entrance, flanked by low vegetation and enormous yellow flowers that swayed gently in the wind. Butterflies of every shade danced through the air, as if moving to an unheard melody.
The sun had already begun its ascent, bathing the ancient structure in golden light.
Ruth hesitated only for a moment before walking up the path, twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers as she mentally rehearsed what to say to whoever she might meet inside.
As she reached the great glass doors, they swung open on their own before she could even touch them.
She froze, barely managing to mask her surprise.
Stepping inside, she was greeted by a wide hallway lined with towering wooden shelves stacked with books and scrolls. The air smelled of aged parchment; the scent of knowledge itself. Spiral staircases wound their way up to different floors, where more books waited in shelves beneath the soft glow of light-bearing gemstones.
Trailing vines curled around the upper railings, their small blossoms adding an air of mystery to the grand structure.
The main hallway led to a smaller arched doorway at the far end, hidden by a curtain of hanging plants. A shaft of stray sunlight slid through its swaying leaves, making them glow with a golden hue.
Ruth's heart beat faster.
Something about that doorway seemed to call out to her.
She barely noticed the scattered figures throughout the Archives; members of different clans, distinguishable by their clothing, browsing the shelves in quiet focus.
A Mason scholar stood on the third floor, his grey regalia adorned with gems signifying age and status. Further up, a woman from the Fisher's Clan skimmed a book, her white attire draped elegantly over her frame.
Sporadically, others were scattered across the vast space, lost in their own quests for knowledge.
Ruth forced herself forward.
Soon, she reached the archway.
She paused briefly before pushing aside the hanging vines, half-expecting them to move on their own as well.
Beyond the plants, a glass-domed chamber stretched before her. The walls had a smooth, white ceramic-like finish. A beam of sunlight filtered in through the dome, casting a soft greenish hue across the room and illuminating a group of people gathered within.
Several children sat in a semicircle, their colorful clothing revealing they came from different clans across the city. At the center, a frail-looking elderly man sat on a higher platform cross-legged. As he spoke in a voice rich with wisdom, it was clear - a storytelling session was underway.
At this age, she had been curled up in the attic of her home, listening to the unending tales of her father.
Nostalgia hit her like a wave. She wanted to listen. She had to listen.
Moving swiftly, she leaned against one of the pillars, trying to blend into the background as she tuned in to the old man's words.
He told a story of the beginning; light and darkness, land and rivers, plants and man and how they all came to be, his bold voice resounding through the space.
She had been entirely absorbed in the tale till a hand tapped her shoulder. She turned a little too fast, mostly in fright, colliding with someone.
She turned to see a girl about her age on the floor, the same girl she had just sent tumbling. Startled, Ruth quickly reached out, mumbling a flurry of apologies as she helped her up.
As their eyes met, Ruth knew she had seen those eyes before, but she couldn't place where.
The girl, on the other hand, didn't seem to appreciate being stared down at. She returned Ruth's gaze with a burning glare.
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