Elven new year came.

Festivities were strange; not just because they were observed quietly, but for the way in which the celebrations were done. Soft music, mesmerising lights, flowery decorations, and small mirthful gatherings littered all corners of the Elvenhome, brightening the realm from start to finish. Supplications of gratitude and praises for the past year were made to the Elemental Godhead, Gayl, Lord of The Wind and Seas, and many Elves made sacred visits to a place called The Isolated Plateaus to perform this.

Altogether, the new year did not just feel festive alone, it felt holy and peaceful.

Inasmuch as Elves were known to be a merry bunch, watching them observe ancient customs was a reminder that they were also a greatly solemn kind, unshakably tied to their old ways albeit the emergence of new practices.

The better part of everything was the appearance of the Floom.

According to Freañin's account, there came certain seasons when the Floom manifested late. Oftentimes, it did not show at all. However, it came quite early this year, and Judson got a rare and mesmerising opportunity to witness it right as it happened for the first time.

He'd been standing outside his room long before the crack of dawn, helping Diarmaid hang lights on the tree when a sudden warmth crept from the side of him. He looked fast enough to see a burst of color noiselessly ignite the snow, gaining speed as it seemed to travel in a way that his eyes could not comprehend.

The experience had kept him rooted, until Diarmaid came himself to fetch him.

He found that he really liked the natural colors that took on peculiar hues in different places, and what with the receding snow, they lingered long enough to be seen.

Sadly, he could not fully partake in the beauty of the Floom and the richness of new year's appeal, because he was bound to visiting the Curatorium day by day, engaged in earnest research that lasted long hours.

After revealing as much details of his trip to the North as he could to Threya, she became deeply invested in helping out.

First, she had made a map of his travels.

Judson generously pointed out the coordinates they had used - something Threya failed to believe was done without the use of a compass.

"You navigated the treacherous oceans of the North without a directive pointer?" Her ultraconfident eyes faltered with disbelief. Up close, one could see they were the perfect likeness of a night sky covered in colorful patches of stars.

Judson thought Threya's eyes perfectly complimented her deep passion for knowledge.

"I'm afraid so. All we had was a map."

Her gaze was urgent. "Where is it?"

"Lost in the waters."

Very often, she would stare at him at the end of conversations like that, as if she were either too awestruck to speak or trying to decide whether he was telling a lie. Whatever the conclusion, she did not voice. But Judson noticed a gradual change in her approach to his case. She became quick to listen, quicker to reason with him or brainstorm, and easier to talk to.

Together, they scoured her personal library one giant record book at a time.

That bit was draining in a way he never knew was possible.

"How many pages are in here?" Judson asked on the eleventh morning of his usual visit.

Growing up, he always loved books and the idea of reading. He never thought the day would come when the mere sight of a book would exhaust him even before it was open.

"Thirty thousand and twenty three." The historian responded in a cheery tone, with a book in her hand and the other finger running down the page as she read silently.

"How long will it take me to read through them all?" He felt stunned, examining the cover on both sides of the book.

"If you're diligent. . ." Her head lifted briefly in calculation. "A little over four months."

He covered his face, releasing a puff of exasperated breath. "I would be grayhaired and memory-worn by then."

An unexpected, hearty chuckle came out of Threya. "It would surprise you what dedication can do in a short time." She shut her book. "But you do have a point. You and I alone couldn't possibly do this just by ourselves. We'll need the help of your friends to finish, otherwise you may become grayhaired and memory-worn after all."

"They are all occupied with festivities." He excused. "I do not want to rid them of it."

"How many festivities have they partook in before this? There are many more they'll celebrate in the future. As a matter of fact, it is you, who have never witnessed Elvish celebrations, that should be given the liberty, seeing as you are guest to us all. I think it's cruel your friends let you convince them that you're better off poring over books."

"I am better off poring over books." He muttered, brushing down a peeling strip on the front cover. "I would rather."

Threya fell quiet then. He sensed that she wanted to prod, but was holding back on the grounds of respect. They might have found common ground, but were very much still acquaintances. The chance for closeness seemed far away, and he did not intend to force it. There was absolutely no need to be close to everyone.

He focused on the chapter he was reading. So far, he and the historian have dug through sixteen records. In each one, information on Camar was minutely expounded upon and even less on the Chasma. All there was were sightings in the olden days, some of which did not sound likely.

"This place," Judson said, tapping on the page.

Threya glided over to peep down at the information.

"Where is it?"

"It exists no longer." She replied after a hum, strolling to return to her old position. "Four centuries ago, an unnamed disaster plagued and took hold of the greater East. The results were massive landslides and floods that reshaped the earth's very structure. Years later, the land itself was lost, submerged under gallons of seawater."

She picked up another book. Distorted waves of black hair curtaining her back seemed to follow her arms whenever she made to use them. From behind, she appeared like a willowy, mortal version of Selene. Sudden thought of the goddess linked Judson's mind back to Waverly. He thought mother and daughter bore a likeness to each other that he could not explain in detail, but found adorable.

Slowly, he realized he had drifted off and lost a quarter of whatever Threya must have said.

". . . and masses of precious gems buried in the depths. I heard that after a while they discovered imperial jade there. Greedy and hungry men led themselves to their own deaths in trying to salve it."

She appeared to be chuckling at a part of the story she found funny.

"So, did the Chasma pass through the lands during the devastation, after it, or before?" He reasoned.

She made to speak then stopped, eyebrows curving in thought. "I've never studied that."

In that instant, she dropped her book and hurried over to a corner of the domed glass. There, a single contraption stood, comprising of levers and several mechanical things that Judson could not name nor even recognize. She pulled a lever, and the entire room jerked with force.

Judson rose to his feet while glancing up at strange yet captivating mechanical elements built across the length of the roof, all working together to let down what resembled a flat board. With the slow pace at which it moved, he reckoned the object weighed a few hundred thousand pounds or more.

Halfway to the floor, it stopped, and he saw what it really was. A great map.

"Incredible!" He muttered, visually devouring the graphic representation. It seemed as if the entire world had been laid out before him.

"This piece here," Threya guided, going to touch areas around the Great South, East, and much of the West. "Is older than the rest."

"Because it was drawn by King Erémel's own hand." He realized.

She nodded in confirmation. "His map was much much smaller. I amplified the locations on more elaborate paper and highlighted untouched zones across the South, but I never discarded Erémel's original paper. It was only modified to blend into the rest of this masterpiece."

"A masterpiece indeed!" Judson exclaimed, suddenly conscious of the fact that he was filling up with exhilaration.

He had never beheld such a large or beautiful map. Threya seemed to have stuck tiny gleaming pearls and torn parchments onto multiple locations; drawn lines, sketches, dots, and written coordinates everywhere on the map. However, the excesses only contributed to its general beauty.

"That place we spoke about," She began, drawing a table with wheels to herself ontop of which writing materials were abundant. "It was called Gein. Back then, it dwelt on the outskirts of your native homeland."

"Dakriton." He contributed, folding both arms across his chest as he listened to her whilst also studying the map.

"Gein covered a hundred and sixty acres of land, excluding the forest that binded its northern region to the realm's borderlands. Altogether, the town actually stretched over one million acres, accounting for 8% of the entire Dakritonian realm."

Taking up a little black box, she removed two pearls from inside. After placing the box down, she dipped a quill in ink and brought it forward. The precise way she stared at the board proved she was mentally aligned to the fullest with many locations on the map. Judson doubted she had to search for a place first before finding it.

"Here," She placed one pearl on a barren greenery and circled it. "And here." The other, she stuck nearest a place named Elkview. "These were the areas devastated. The Chasma must have manifested afterwards, because Elkview was not inhabited, until after the terrible Ruin of Dakritonian. . ."

Again, a faraway look settled in her eyes. "which took place only shortly after Gein was submerged."

"What does that tell you?" Judson questioned.

"What I hadn't realized at all for so long." Slowly, she turned to look at him in the eyes. "The Chasma has regularity. Of course!"

"I thought it could not be predicted."

"Yes, but," Her hands shook as she strolled back and forth, spilling spots of ink on the floors. "regardless of the Chasma's unpredictability, I never thought it developed consistency. At least, I did not bother to think about the possibility before."

"So, you are implying that. . . the Chasma only appears in certain specific places, like, the center of a disaster."

"Not just any disaster, but large scale, historical disasters!" She gripped the quill too hard and it snapped, issuing a little yelp of surprise and a laugh out of her. "I've gotten a little too excited."

"I, for one, appreciate that." He smiled.

"Harueth." She straightened, taking on her usual composed self again. "Fetch him, will you please? We are going to need his assistance. He understands theory a little bit more than most."

"You refer to Regent?" Judson assumed as he was yet to accustom himself with addressing the Elves in the way that she did.

Downstairs, the Curatorium was quiet but busy. Decorous Elves in their splendid uniforms glided about, speaking in low tones. Judson was often intrigued by the gleaming thread in their attires that could perfectly imitate flashing sunlight whenever it was struck by anything just as bright.

His eyes traveled around in search of Regent.

Over the past ten days, only the latter showed more consistency in acting as an escort. Grace, on the other hand, often got too emotional each time she saw Judson. Regent revealed that in her own mind, she had loved Waverly the most and was damaged the more over her friend's ill fortune.

Furthermore, she observed certain sacred rituals and prayers over their joint effort to find Waverly as it were the greatest contribution she could give. It warmed Judson that Grace was that committed. Whether or not she showed up to brainstorm with the rest of them, he was grateful that she displayed a level of support no one else could give.

At the base of the stairs, he spotted Regent on the farthest end of the room, standing before a table. He was twirling a kind of limp device that rattled with each movement while he flipped through a small book.

"Searching for improvement ideas?" He piped, causing Regent to gaze up. Phyllis often spoke of how the Elf was fascinated with inventory.

With a sigh, Regent straightened and shut his book. "Afraid so. I've barely scratched the surface, but my will sharpens every morning."

"That is inspiring to hear." Judson commended.

"Are you ready to leave now?"

"No. Actually, the historian has asked me to summon you."

Regent seemed a bit surprised. "Oh, really? Let us go then."

Halfway up the stairs, Judson got the feeling that his company was no longer following. He turned and found Regent standing still. It unnerved him to see the Elf like that in the dim light of the lonely stairwell.

"Is there a problem?" He asked, taking a single step down.

Quietly, Regent climbed up to his level and stopped face to face. His eyes could see a little past Judson's forehead, because he was taller. The atmosphere was very strange, yet it felt nothing dangerous.

"I just wanted to say," His gaze lowered briefly. When he looked up again, he seemed to struggle to speak.

"Are you alright?" Concern draped Judson when he realized that the Elf had gone a bit teary eyed. The kind of pain evident on his face was not just alarming. It was familiar.

Regent's breath quivered. "Havilah." As soon as the word was out, he suddenly seemed to calm. "I'm sorry. I haven't spoken her name aloud in four years."

Judson's eyebrows wobbled in sad and quick understanding. "She was to you as Olwirien is to Ceylon."

"She was killed in battle. I didn't think I would ever. . . find sanity again after she. . ." He shook his head slightly, then gazed up with a weak smile. "I wanted to say I understand."

All of a sudden, Regent's sympathy felt the most genuine of any other, and Judson did not fully register when he wrapped both arms around the Elf in a comforting hug. Regent responded likewise, with gentle brotherly pats on his back.

When they pulled apart, every sense of distance hanging between them fell away.

"Thank you." Judson nodded, breaking a smile.

"Likewise." Regent responded, smiling too. "I'll have you know you have no right to lose hope with us. We'll find a way and we'll bring her back. No matter the cost."

When they reached the historian again, the jaws of both young men dropped. The library had been turned topsy-turvy and resembled a place for raccoon gatherings.

"Threya, what. . .?" Regent trailed off, kicking a scattered heap of books from his path. "You've turned this whole place upside down!"

Then, Threya wheeled, eyes shining with mad excitement. "Harueth! I've almost got it. I swear to Gayl, I have."

"What is she talking about?" He turned to Judson and staggered when Threya rushed to him and clutched his arms, staring right into his face.

"I'm almost there, I can feel it! But I need your help."

"With what?" He frowned. "Cleaning up? Hard pass!"

"Hard pass, too." Judson muttered, eyeing the disorganized room.

"I need you to help me track occurrences." Her palm opened wide as she explained. "The Shade made me realize that I haven't been indulging well enough, at least not in the right places. The Chasma does have regularity, and that means it may be predicted if we do our calculations right."

Regent's brow went up. Then he seemed a lot more serious. "Do you mean this?"

"She does." Judson confirmed. He glanced around in search of something that he subconsciously felt had gone missing from the room.

"Well, let's. . . track occurrences then. What would you have me do?"

"We need to mark out every single place where The Chasma has devoured throughout history and write them all down, calculate the time differences in between each cataclysmic event and lay out our predictions."

She turned and there was so much hope in her eyes it almost made Judson want to dance. "We will put a rein on this wild horse sooner or later."

Then, it dawned on Judson what the missing item was – the map. It had benn returned to its normal place in the roof, allowing the room its usual space, and just when he began to miss it, Threya let it down again because they were to make use of it.

After that day, Judson lost count of how often he visited the Curatorium.

In between, he got the chance to do other things.

First, he paid visits to Cyriñnthr in Eden. The old tree was doing just fine and had restored order to its ecosystem. Also, he spent time with the Derews there, and with Lica too, who encouraged him concerning Juniper's offer.

"It is not just her that beseeches this of you, nemethil," She touched his arm. "But the whole Council."

"Yet the agenda itself would not exist at all had she not killed my father." He objected in an equally calm tone.

"Yes." Lica agreed. "It wouldn't exist."

He shook his head. "Why did no one tell me? What was the use of hiding something of such great magnitude?"

"She didn't want you to walk around with such a burden on your young shoulders."

He scoffed and bent low to fetch a handful of sand to play with. "I walked around with a burden anyway."

"Her wish was for you to live a life as normal was humanly possible; to never wake with the thought that anything was expected of you other than being happy." Lica's hand draped around his shoulder. "Isn't that what happened after all?"

He looked the Derew in the eyes. She had a warm smile on her face that tempted him to smile.

"It was. But now it's all gone."

"You're making efforts to reclaim your happiness and that makes me proud of you. I won't ask you to ignore your quest. I know how much you love the Human hero."

"Do you, now?" He smirked.

Lica laughed and looked away. "I was there, you know, when you first met her."

He leaned back in utter surprise. "Really? Did no one notice you derailed from your tasks?"

"I was willing to risk it to make sure you were safe," She beamed, burying his hands in her own. "And when I saw that someone had wholeheartedly accepted you, I was overjoyed. That lakeside was the safest place you could ever be in. It's all I ever wanted."

His eye twitched in realization. "You had been following me around before."

A sheepish wide grin came over her face. "You were the clumsiest little crumpet there ever was, someone had to."

He broke into laughter, knowing she was right. "Thank you, Lica."

When he was not in Eden or the Curatorium, he spent time with Diarmaid and Maraeti, which was usually suppertime in Diarmaid's treehouse.

The couple were a very interesting bunch and took care of him as though he were family. He learned to share his concerns with them because they saw it as theirs.

Since they were yet to be married, Maraeti did not live with Diarmaid. She only came during mornings and evenings.

"I live in the Ford." She revealed, passing a bunch of ripened grapes to Diarmaid.

"It is cold there." Judson noted. "How do you manage?"

She giggled matter-of-factly. "Because I am a Snow Elf."

Judson was too surprised to speak, but found his voice after all. "That is interesting. You look—"

"Nothing like the rest of them?" She chuckled. "No, I don't."

"I was going to say you look like you belong in the Woodlands even more than Diarmaid does."

A helpless look marked Diarmaid's face at that. "Hey, that wasn't even related to the discussion."

Judson feigned remorse. "Oh, my apologies. I thought we were supposed to take a jab at you three times a day."

"Who said so?" Diarmaid frowned though it was clear he wanted to laugh.

Judson gestured curtly to Maraeti.

"Why?"

"Because it keeps the doctor away." Maraeti innocently shrugged.

"Apples do that!"

"Do what?" Judson piped, leaning forward with a first under his chin.

Diarmaid looked uncertain. "Keep the. . . doctor away."

"No, it doesn't." Maraeti objected with a grim expression on. "Apples love doctors! Why would they want to keep them away?"

Diarmaid's confusion seemed to get the best of him. "What on earth were you two talking about anyway?"

"I believe something unrelated to the discussion." Judson nodded.

Diarmaid squinted then burst into short laughter. "You're just like her!"

"Oh, it is an honor!" Judson exclaimed, extending one hand, which Maraeti gave a little high five with a fit of giggles.

Diarmaid leaned back in his chair and pushed it outwardly. "I meant Waverly."

At that, the table fell silent. Judson gazed at Diarmaid, uncertain of how to feel about his comment.

"She used to gang up with my brother and they'd both come at me." The Elf went on, chewing slowly.

"I apologize if it upset you." Judson said, but was cut off by Diarmaid's hand going up.

"I'm not offended neither do I need an apology. All I want, for once, is someone to gang up with, but Maraeti prefers to be on the winning side, so I guess I'm fordone, eh?"

Then, laughter returned to the table.

One person Judson did not get to see so often was Phyllis. As Commander, she was occupied day and night and could be only seen by preappointment or a personal visit. It dampened his spirits because he yearned to speak with her, though what really drew him to her was unclear yet.

Her betrothed, Ceylon, was scarce also, as well as Grasiriel.

The most active of them all was Regent, whom Judson spent hours working with in the Curatorium. Albeit, Diarmaid often came to contribute to their project.

Soon, and rather slowly, a new season replaced the Floom.

NeverEnd, it was called – a strange season marked by steady daytime, which confused Judson's body system so much that he fell horribly sick and grew sleepless. During that period, he was forced to take a break from the Curatorium in spite of his initial reluctance to go on.

But, his absence seemed to assemble Waverly's friends to replace him. Every busy person became free by some fate.

So while they worked, he spent time with Maraeti's relatives in the Ford.

There, houses were built to be small and extra cozy, heat was noticeably lesser, and the atmosphere carried an everlasting dim, much like that of the Guard House.

He acquainted with Maraeti's young twin sisters, Ryinal and Rilyñn, both of whom could sing the rage out of any creature. Their melodies felt slightly similar to the tunes from Harper's instrument, but Judson said nothing of the such because it would spark an unending debate between both girls.

However, he loved to listen to them and could do so for hours, if not that their voices often put him to deep sleep. It quickly became clear that it was their singing, not the weather as he thought, that helped him sleep.

When he was strong enough to, Maraeti took the time to show him the basics of archery, which she also used as an excuse to escape the confines of responsibility.

"How long have you known how to use a bow and arrow?" Judson questioned, watching her nail her target for the sixteenth time.

She was dressed in a gown of carmine red with a loose waist belt from which a leather pouch was hanging. Her hair was held back, revealing every corner of her rosy face as she recollected spent arrows.

"Ever since I can remember." She replied without wasting a breath.

The targets were simply ripe apples stuck onto the points of thin sticks kept in a row. Each apple had been pierced right through the middle, and Judson could recall just how many times Maraeti had taken a shot without wholly concentrating on it – proof that her level of mastery was high.

"Your father taught you?" He queried, balancing against the pole beside him with both hands crossed over his chest.

"My mother did." Maraeti came forward, with all the arrows in one hand and her bow in the other. "She used to make everything out of wood; from the very pillars of our home to furniture, those statuettes by the window, my sisters' flutes, and of course, bows and arrows. Mother hated us playing aimlessly with sticks; she said they were the fabric of wonderful creations, and we were meant to put them to the best of use."

"I believe her."

She smiled warmly for a moment. "As do I. She also believed it was better to defend oneself before their enemy drew close enough. Only a stealthy warrior masters the element of surprise."

"That was spoken well," He contributed, watching her nock another arrow. "And I believe she is one of the few that have mastered the element of surprise."

A hearty chuckle came out of Maraeti that put her off fitting the arrow. "I'm sure you speak out of experience."

He shrugged matter-of-factly.

"Here," She suddenly held out the bow and arrow to him. "Give it a try."

He lifted a hand in refusal. "I think I have tried just enough."

"Oh, come on!" She hurried to refix another apple on a stick. There was a basketful by the side that she intended to make delicious pies out of after training. "I've tried to teach Diarmaid, but he's hopeless. I'm sure he's doing it on purpose."

"He's a better archer still." Judson defended.

"When he's shooting within three feet and the target is behind, yes."

She pinned the apple, then ran back. By now, evening was beginning to dawn, and Judson felt confused at how he knew.

"You might hit the apple this time."

"Might."

"If you can pretend the apple was an enemy and not an apple."

He stared, conscious of her undertone.

With a quiet sigh, he nocked the arrow exactly how she taught him and focused on his projectile as well as the target. When he let go, the arrow flew right past the apple, only managing to take a peel off its side.

"I knew you'd hit it!" Maraeti rejoiced, clapping softly.

"But that was a horrible hit." He chuckled, lowering the bow.

"Perhaps it wouldn't be if you had a balanced bow. Mother says when the bow is aligned with its user, then his shots become more defined."

Then, her eyes lowered to look at the band on his wrist. Her voice came out even lower.

"Is it true that that can take the form of whatever weapon you will it to be?"

"Indeed." He confirmed. "But I barely use it. I am no warrior."

She laughed briefly. "I can see that. You're a peacemaker."

He stilled, brows furrowing as she walked off to retrieve the arrow. "Why do you say that?"

"Oh, it's obvious! You always frown at the slightest idea of conflict, although not often physically. You're quick to proffer solutions to quarrels, and you are uncomfortable with quibbles. I've seen you settle Ryinal and Rilyñn's silly fights over a hundred times."

The look on his face made her pause momentarily. "Oh, I don't mean to imply that wanting peace makes you. . . weak." Her tone dropped. "It actually crowns you the best of us."

Just then, they were interrupted by scurrying from afar.

Two youngsters seemed to be racing into the little clearing they were in, accompanied by sounds of squealing and laughter.

"Maraeti, Maraeti!" Rilyñn's laughing voice came.

"I want to be the one to give it." Ryinal whined, trying to reach for whatever her twin sister appeared to be flagging above her head.

"We have a letter for you." Rilyñn announced, nearly screeching to a stop.

"It was not meant for her. It's meant for Judson." Ryinal corrected. Her bright eyes were always misty, thus her stare could melt whomever she looked at. However, Rilyñn was immune.

"But it's got our home address here on the front." Rilyñn noted, turning the letter to prove her point.

Ryinal took the opportunity to yank the letter free. "Because he's currently staying at our home, éth fel." (you dolt)

"helédira!" Rilyñn whined, beelining Maraeti. (Sister)

"Let me have that then." Maraeti held a hand out, and Ryinal dutifully placed the letter in it. In turn, she handed it to Judson.

"Were you shooting at apples?" Rilyñn asked, going to stand by Judson whilst he opened the letter.

"We were just grooming them for pie later." He replied absentmindedly, reading through. A message had come from the Curatorium; from Threya herself.

"I'm going to get a bigger portion tonight because Ryinal got it the last time." Rilyñn declared, going round and around him by hanging onto the hem of his cloak. "Mother has always given her extra of everything and never extra for me."

"You do realize, Rilyñn, that I'm older than you are." Ryinal expressed.

"Only by a minute." Rilyñn reminded in a clinical tone.

"Have you ever seen mother give me a bigger portion of anything than what she gives Maraeti?"

"No, and that's because Maraeti is not half as annoying or as pigheaded as you are."

"You're so mean!" Ryinal sounded hurt.

"Rilyñn," Judson cautioned at once, folding up the letter. Because of its contents, his insides rapidly became edgy, but he tried not to show it. "What did you promise?"

The young She-Elf stopped dead in her tracks, an expression of innocence overcoming her face as Judson lowered to her level. She went silent for a length of time before her voice came tiny and a bit timid.

"That I would show respect to Ryinal."

"And why?"

She sucked on her bottom lip and gazed at her sister, who had drawn close, for a brief moment. "Because she deserves it for being my sister."

He nodded in agreement. "Exactly. You also promised something else. What was it?"

Rilyñn clasped both hands together and lowered her head so much that her chin pressed against her chest. "That I will not—"

"No." He cut in and crooked his index to nudge her chin up. "Let me see your eyes."

Slowly, she peeked up at him.

His gaze wavered and caught Maraeti smiling at the scenario with her basketful balanced against her side.

"Go on then." He prompted.

"I promised I won't tease her about anything, at least not enough to upset her."

"And what was our agreement if you failed to keep your promise?"

"That I would have to let her decide every thing I do for twelve hours."

Again, he nodded. "I reckon you do not want Ryinal to decide what dress you wear, whom you speak to, and where you go for twelve hours, do you?"

Rilyñn shook her head sombrely.

"Well, since that is the case, you should be careful how you speak to her from now on. I will let you go this time, but rest assured you tease her again and upset her, you will have to obey her for twelve hours. Do you understand?"

Rilyñn nodded slowly. She seemed on the verge of tears for being scolded, but when Judson smiled at her, she smiled back and sadness fell away from her face.

"That is better." He exclaimed. "Now, off you go!"

Ryinal held out an open hand for Rilyñn, which the latter accepted and together, they hopped away from the clearing.

Maraeti's smile widened when her eyes met Judson's own. "My point has been proven once again."

She jutted toward the letter. "What does it say?"

"Threya has summoned me to the Curatorium. She claims to have found something useful. I must go at once!"

The She-Elf appeared uncertain. "Are you feeling alright enough?"

He released a puff of tensed breath, eyes trailing to the dull skies above. A hint of twilight seemed to line the pale clouds that he could somehow decipher clearly and doubted anyone else could.

To him, it was a hidden metaphor.

"Whatever comes out of this meeting will determine whether or not I will be."

With Regent as his escort, he reached the Curatorium and found it illuminated well enough to show it was abuzz with activity still. Weak sunlight sprayed across Mailiñn, indicating the day was drawn to an end.

"It may get faintly dark often." Regent offered as they strolled up the stairs, inbound.

Inside the library, Threya seemed to have company, and Judson was unsurprised to find Phyllis amongst them.

Immediately, she came forward and took his hand. "How are you faring now?"

His brain processed her question slower than normal, yet he was able to answer in correspondence. "Much better. It is good to see you again."

Little taps on his arm and a warm smile was her response. Then, Judson took note of the other faces; Diarmaid and Ceylon.

"Splendid eve!" Diarmaid greeted flatly. With his arms folded and his jaw set, he seemed nothing like himself and more like Ceylon. Oftentimes, his countenance wavered like that, but now, it was bothersome.

Judson tried to ignore it for the meantime and focused on the historian. She, too, looked a tad grim.

"Is all well?"

"Actually, yes." Threya suddenly brightened. "Pay no mind to how sullen the room feels. Some of us are exhausted."

"I wish I could have been here to assist somehow." He passed apologetic glances to the others.

"It's good you were absent." Diarmaid piped. "If the sun could burn off our hairs, Threya's books could do far worse. I feel as if my brain has been replaced by boulders."

"Who knows?" Ceylon smirked. "It could be a boulder."

"Let us get to the point at once, young folks." Threya intervened, then she spun to face Judson and became solemn. "I summoned you because we finally have a breakthrough, but also because I wanted to thank you all. Since I first embraced the confines of these walls and took on the mantle of chronicler from my father, I have ignored so many things. Our kind have long been known as forebearers of recorded wisdom and mortal knowledge, no matter the sort, and it will be a great shame that my tenure passes without significant accomplishments."

She walked away from her table.

"Truth be told, I feared that such ill luck would befall me as it did my predecessor." Her voice quivered, seeming as though she was speaking to herself.

"Threya, your father was a wonderful historian." Phyllis provided sympathetically.

"Yes, but he will be forgotten soon, perhaps before even your children bear children. He did nothing meaningful in his lifetime albeit the honourable task of keeping history alive." She spun about and a sudden smile graced her face. "However, it is with great pleasure I reveal that, at last, with the help of everyone present, I have achieved a milestone like no other."

Judson felt rather proud as he watched her let down the map again. This time, it showed many more markings than when he last saw it.

"Once in every four million years." She announced, pointing at several spots on the map. "That's how often the disastrous phenomenon appeared. Not only did it set on disastrous lands, but thrived off them. In the past, seventy percent of the Chasma's recurrence took place in enormous territories that were either low in habitation or already desolate. The remaining percentage happened in untouched zones; places where men never stepped foot nor settled near."

A lump formed in Judson's throat.

That was not the piece of information he was hoping to hear. He shared a blank glance with Diarmaid that the Elf simply returned.

"What does this mean, then?" He inched forward. "If it occurs only once in every four million years, then have I not already missed the chance?"

Threya's sigh translated to how fulfilled she felt even as she came face to face with him. "You misinterprete. Four million, two hundred and thirty years is the actual time frame, and your last encounter with the Chasma did not take place in an earthly realm."

He prodded by lifting a brow. "So?"

"So, master Shade, the Chasma is yet to manifest on earth because it has only been four million, two hundred and twenty nine years. . ." Her own brows lifted in pleasure. "So far."

His breath caught. If he were anything like Qar, his ears would have also gone erect with eagerness.

"You have one year left for an opportunity to witness it."

"How?" Judson was breathless with relief.

Threya heaved a small sigh. "That I do not know for certain, but," She beamed in a way that made doubt fall right off his chest. "I do have an idea where you might begin."