Machina Arcanis: Two Worlds Collided-Chapter 239. The Choir to The Harvester

239. The Choir to The Harvester

The grand library of Borealis was a world unto itself. Endless rows of shelves, laden with books, stretched into the gloom. Spiral staircases, located in the four corners and the middle of each massive chamber, connected its ten floors. The high ceilings, adorned with exquisite paintings, soared into shadow, turning the vast space into a beautiful maze — one where a person could lose a lifetime and still not finish a tenth of its tomes.

For several days, Zetius had strode through its halls, his steps muffled by the grey carpet, his keen eyes sweeping across the endless spines. The library was always dimly lit, with too few windows to allow natural light to penetrate its depths. A design flaw, perhaps, but he gave the long-dead architect the benefit of the doubt. It was a place built in a different time, for people with different ideas.

He was on the fourth floor, where the most relevant subjects seemed to be gathered. His official hunt was for information on divinity and the impending doom of the sixth apocalypse, but he had his own agenda. He needed more books about D’Arcane, and after a tireless search, he had finally found a few.

That was when he heard it. A song, perhaps, a lullaby in an indiscernible language, drifting from the far end of the chamber.

Hmm, I didn’t know anyone else was here, Zetius pondered, his curiosity piqued. He decided to investigate.

As he moved past rows of expensive-looking bookshelves, the lullaby grew louder. Despite not knowing the language, it invoked a profound melancholy, a yearning like that of someone who cared deeply for a lost husband, wishing for his return since the dawn of time.

It was one of the most beautiful songs he had ever heard, sung by a divine voice that resonated perfectly in the echoing hall. He could swear the poignant melody captivated him more than any Cyber Jazz ever had. So much so that the hairs on his arms stood up.

When Zetius rounded the corner, he saw the veiled girl, her fingers brushing over the spines of books as she hummed absently.

“Triss?” Zetius gasped softly. This was new. He had never heard her sing before, though she certainly had the voice for it.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, turning towards him. “My, did I disturb you? I… um, I thought I was the only one on this floor.”

Before she could spiral into a self-deprecating mumble, Zetius raised a palm and smiled gently. “It was truly beautiful.”

“O’ All-mother Gaia, I’m glad,” she whispered, her fingers touching her lips. “But you truly think so?”

“I know so,” Zetius said, tapping his ear with a feigned nonchalance. “My ears are great, you know.”

He joined her, his eyes sweeping over the books she was perusing. Her hands were empty; she hadn't found what she was looking for. “So, where did you learn to sing like that?”

“It’s from the Harvester’s choir,” Triss replied.

“A grand fest from Porand?” Zetius crouched down to browse the lower shelves.

“Yes!” Triss clasped her hands, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You should visit Poranthis! It’s even more grand with the other Virgo mages and the enormous organs playing along!”

“Even more grand, you say?” Zetius glanced up at her and couldn’t help but smile. She was so pure, so innocent for this world. “I’m convinced.”

She nodded her head vigorously. “Celestius Vivian will be the lead vocalist. Her voice is the best.”

“Ugh…” The mention of that name left a sour taste in his mouth and an unpleasant tickle in his groin. He shook his head, discarding the thought.

Zetius shifted the subject. “Still, I didn’t recognise the words at all. Is it Hellenic?” He pulled a book from the shelf and began flipping through its pages.

“Yes! But it’s the Ionian dialect!” she lilted. He had rarely seen her this animated. He had initially thought her a boring, reserved girl, but he was happily mistaken.

Finding nothing of use, Zetius slid the book back into its slot and sprang to his feet. Triss stood with her fists clenched at her sides, looking intently at him with her big eyes and perfectly curved lashes.

“Um, Ze~Zetius,” she stammered, her eyes darting all over the place, clearly flustered.

“Hmm?”

“What food do you like?” she asked keenly.

He blinked, momentarily taken aback. “I don’t really have a favourite. Pineapple pizza, I guess?”

“Umm, what about… what about your friend?”

Oh, I see where this is going. You like Friederich, don’t you? Zetius grinned internally.

Triss fidgeted with her fingers, growing even more flustered. “So you already knew. Please forgive me for prying into your thoughts.”

Crap. Zetius had forgotten she was an oracle with occasional telepathy. A bead of sweat gathered on his brows as he wondered if she knew about the incident with her Celestius. Zetius cleared his throat, “Friederich likes grapes. The green ones.”

“That’s not a food,” she said, tilting her head in confusion.

“My bad… I mean…” Zetius paused. I actually don’t know what the man likes.

“It~it’s fine,” she chuckled sheepishly. “At least you tried.”

“Why don’t you just ask him yourself, Triss?” Zetius proposed.

Her shoulders jumped in surprise. “Is it proper?”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“He’s a gentleman. Surely he’ll answer you,” Zetius said, crossing his arms and nodding to himself.

“Will he, um, like me?” Triss asked, twisting a lock of her hair as she shifted her body.

Wow, she’s even bolder. Zetius simply smiled and bobbed his head. “I don’t think he has ever rejected a girl before.”

“Thanks, Zetius!” The encouragement seemed to be the push she needed. She stood there for a moment, determined, making a mental note.

Love is beautiful, but it is also fleeting, a thought crossed his mind, souring his mood. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at how Lupus had rejected his true self. How had he misread the threads of their love so completely? How could it all have gone so wrong? He didn't know.

Exasperated and without a resolution, Zetius exhaled a heavy sigh. He glanced up and saw Triss frozen, her eyes staring blankly at the empty ceiling, her body cringing with fright.

Then, she was falling backward. Zetius was already moving, dashing over and catching her in mid-air.

“What’s wrong, Triss?” he asked, his voice sharp, snapping his fingers in front of her face. But her eyes were vacant. He gently laid her down on the carpeted floor. Is this one of her episodes? I saw this happen during the battle at the Eastern Dam.

Scenes flashed before her eyes, warping and distorting until Triss found herself standing on black, warm soil. It was a battlefield. The terrain had been unmade into ash and smoke, and the trees were nothing but charred stumps. The clouds overhead were grim and dark, and the hum of Arcanite engines thrummed in the distance.

Then she realised she wasn’t alone. A groan of suffering drew her attention. A crippled man, with only one arm, was crawling toward a pair of shiny arc boots.

“Mr Jack?” she gasped, recognising his silver hair, though it was matted with dripping blood.

Triss’s eyes widened, and hot tears threatened to spill as a numbing pain rushed through her body. But what she couldn’t stand was the immeasurable sense of yearning, love, and loss that washed over her.

Tears streamed down her face. She collapsed, her hands shielding her eyes. “Please! No more, no more!” she screamed and wailed.

But there was no escape. The premonition demanded an audience, forcing her to witness the tragedy whether her eyes were open or squeezed shut. It was the gifted curse of Proleptis.

Jack’s fingers stretched, coming within centimetres of his goal before his limb gave out, and he fell flat on the ground. He was dead.

So much misery, so much sadness. She felt it all at once, overloading her senses.

"Nooo!" Triss scrambled to her feet and ran towards him, but the world distorted, a black mist swallowing her whole.

She was adrift in an abyss, a tremendous pressure crushing her from all sides. Breathless, she gasped and clawed at the suffocating darkness, desperate to break free. Her senses frayed as she fell deeper into the chasm until a bright hand extended towards her... and everything dissolved into a blinding haze.

“Triss, Triss!” Zetius held her gently in his arms, tapping her cheek. She was unresponsive, lost in the vision. Tears streaked from her blank eyes.

“Holy Gaia… this is bad,” Zetius muttered, his mind racing. Should I carry her to Cartier first, or go straight to the empress? He weighed his options.

Suddenly, her eyes blinked rapidly, and the tension left her shoulders. “Zetius!” she cried out, seeing the deep concern etched on his face.

“Triss! You’re back!” He looked into her eyes, a faint relief touching the corner of his lips.

“It… it appears so…” Triss stuttered, blinking tears from her red-rimmed eyes. Her fingers dug into his tunic. “O’ All-mother…”

“What’s wrong? What did you see?” he asked, his voice frantic.

“I saw you, but as Jack Squire… I saw your death…” Triss’s lips quivered as she let out a shaky breath. “It was the sorrow, I just—”

So she saw my past? But — that isn’t important now.

“Hush…” Zetius placed his hand atop hers, attempting to calm her. “It’s all fine.”

“How?” she asked, her voice small and shaky.

“I don’t know,” Zetius said with a reassuring smile. Perhaps he was just built this way, stoicism moulded into his very foundation.

A surge of deep sorrow washed through her like a rising dark tide. She pulled him close and buried her face in his chest.

Zetius chewed his lip in confusion but didn’t protest. Instead, he brushed her back gently, offering silent comfort. It was the first time someone had cried for him. It was a strange feeling, yet in it, he found a reaffirmation of being seen — not as a weapon, but as a tired soul. With long, heartbreaking wails, Triss cried her heart out, her voice like that of a grieving widow.

A while later, Zetius and Triss returned to the seventh floor, to the study chamber Cubie and Cartier had claimed. The high stacks of books stood on top of a long table, easily twenty metres in length. One entire side of the chamber was open to the sun, with long, interconnecting glass panels that illuminated the whole section.

“Sorry for staining your tunic,” Triss muttered nervously, her hands interlaced in front of her.

Brushing the back of his hair, Zetius chuckled. “It’ll dry.”

“I already knew you had died, but… being in your shoes was just too much for my heart,” Triss admitted. The lingering emotion was impossible to shake. They strode along the half-empty bookshelves toward Cartier’s designated study section.

“Sorry you had to see that part,” Zetius said lightheartedly, flashing a weak smile at her.

She shook her head. “Don’t be. If anything, I feel like I understand life a little better now.” After a moment of thought, she asked, “Oh! How’s the training with the empress?”

“Ah… that.” Zetius’s eyes grew distant. “I wouldn’t call it training. The empress has been mostly analysing my ability.”

“Right. She’d need that prerequisite knowledge before she could suggest improvements,” Triss commented. “From what I’ve been exposed to of her, she’s quite pragmatic that way.”

“The sentiment is mutual,” Zetius nodded. They were now only a dozen strides from the chattering ladies at the long table.

“Hey, guys!” Cartier waved, and Cubie raised her face from a book to beam at them.

“Find anything interesting?” Cartier questioned, closing her book and stacking it aside. It was another god’s romance with a goat; she clearly didn’t need that.

“Nope,” Zetius replied with a proud smirk, hiding a tome he’d found earlier inside his coat pocket.

“Sorry, Little Cartier,” Triss said, shifting uncomfortably.

“It’s alright, it’s alright.” Cartier walked over, her hands clasped behind her back. Noticing the bulky object protruding from Zetius’s coat, she reached out and snatched it. “What’s this?”

Zetius yelped, throwing his hands in defeat.

“Cartier!” Triss gasped. “You can’t just randomly grope a man!”

“I didn’t grope him!” Cartier claimed sharply. “Now, show me what you’ve got.”

Caught red-handed, Zetius took the black hardcover book from her and handed it over properly. Its only discernible feature was a single strip of metal along the edge.

“Neat design!” Cartier admired its simplistic cover, while Cubie floated over to join them, her curiosity piqued.

“I thought it looked interesting, so…” Zetius said, masking his real motivation.

“Oh…” She flicked through the pages, her eyes scanning the contents. “Ha! You found some interesting stuff!” Cartier beamed.

“Um… I did?” Zetius raised his eyebrows.

“That’s Empusa!” Cartier turned to Cubie, and the two chuckled like old friends. It wasn't too weird; they were both equally nerdy.

“Wow! That’s a beautiful painting,” Triss said, admiring the image of the horned demi-goddess with awe-filled eyes.

“Great find, guys!” Cartier praised with a toothy smile. “Cubie! Let’s read this together!”

“Mhm!” Cubie hummed happily, and off she went with the book he had found.

Zetius sighed and shook his head, while Triss just offered a dry smile.