Entry: 003
"The Archive of Grim Bindings is not a library, but a cage. It does not collect stories; it collects the teeth of stories that bite. Each artifact, entity, and anomaly contained within is a loaded gun pointed at the heart of reality. Our purpose is not to read them, but to ensure their tales are never told again."
— Motto of the Archivist Danniel Creed
Vex and Faith rode the elevator down into the subfloors to meet Faith’s brother. Moments before, Vex had signed the agreement. Faith then pricked Vex’s finger with a small, silver knife and squeezed a scarlet droplet onto the iron-bound book. The old leather drank the blood like a sponge, a ripple of vibrant color restoring its surface. The pounded iron thorn-vines that sealed the tome glowed molten-red for an instant before retracting into the cover. Vex was itching to look inside, but Faith had insisted they collect Sin first.
The car passed subfloor 36 when Vex finally spoke. “Not that I ain't thankful for this damn amazing deal, but… what does a librarian want with the Omens? These aren’t collect-em-all baubles, where you get a prize for a full set. These things are seriously bad news. Ruin-your-life, end-an-empire kinda bad.”
Faith gave a gentle chuckle. “You may think of me as a librarian, my dear, but I am much more. Tell me, what do you know of the Archive of Grim Bindings?”
Vex rolled her tongue in thought, the piercing rattling against her teeth. “Before gettin’ here? Thought it was just a library. A place to store records and crap. I figured servers and file cabinets. Now that I see your base is a mountain fortress, I honestly got zero data on what you’re really doin’ here.”
Faith gestured in the air, her therra-node casting a faint light on her eyes. She flicked a series of files to Vex. The documents and images painted a grim picture. One file detailed a vase that produced an endless torrent of ash, which animated into hostile creatures. Another was for a hair comb that stole memories with each stroke. A third was for a goblin who, the record stated, could cannibalize its own kind to grow larger, stronger, and more intelligent.
“The Archive of Grim Bindings has been active for more than a thousand years,” Faith explained, her voice even. “Our organization is dedicated to tracking down and containing dangerous and anomalous artifacts and entities. We presently hold over twenty thousand cursed items. Some of these are undoubtedly Thorn-Wrought Omens. I am simply unaware of which, or how many. That is a sizable reason why I require the Codex… and you.”
Vex minimized the windows. “So, you just hold all this dangerous dreck down here to make sure nobody gets themselves dead?”
“That is an oversimplification, but fundamentally, yes. We keep people from ‘getting themselves dead’.” Faith repeated Vex’s words with a distasteful emphasis that made Vex’s skin crawl. The high-brow lady clearly scorned her street-scuffer dialect. Vex was already starting to wonder if she was going to regret this deal, sanity be damned.
The elevator chimed, its doors opening onto subfloor 50. The room was a warehouse of staggering proportions, filled with floor-to-ceiling shelves housing containers of every shape and size, each carefully labeled. Against the far wall was a series of cells, their fronts composed entirely of shimmering energy barriers.
Vex immediately spotted the goblin from the file. It was built like a six-and-a-half-foot orc, its pug-like face watching them with unnervingly large brown eyes. The energy barrier subtly pulsed, a clear sign of the power constantly required to contain him. Beside it was a cell that was a complete disaster. Scorch marks and mystery stains covered the walls. The toilet ran constantly. A rickety table held a battered coffee maker and a pack of low-sodium Insta-noodle cups. On the cot lay a mound of rags.
Faith walked toward this cell, her hands clasped behind her back. As she approached, the energy barrier deactivated with a soft buzz. The mound of rags jolted upright, revealing a man who looked like he’d been down on his luck since the dawn of time.
“Good afternoon, brother,” Faith said as she stepped inside. “Did you manage any sleep?”
“I believe you know the answer to your question, sister dearest,” Sin replied, the endearment dripping with bitterness.
“You never do,” Faith sighed.
“I never do,” Sin echoed in disheartened agreement.
“We have a guest. I require your support.”
“Faith,” Sin began, his voice bone-weary. “Please. I only just returned. No more temporary hires. No more two-faced liars. No more loathsomely lethal leeches who abandon me on a whim.” He rolled his neck, emitting a series of loud, unhealthy-sounding cracks and pops.
“Not a temporary hire this time, Sin. I have bartered for the services of someone particularly special.”
“This maniacal mission is yours, Faith. Not mine,” Sin countered. “You simply drag me along and throw me, flailing and face-first, into peril.”
“Do not be so dramatic, brother. Your worldly experience is invaluable. I need you to act as a liaison with a partnering Adventurer lance.”
“Partnering Lance?” Sin asked, standing to fiddle with his pathetic coffee maker.
“Correct,” Faith said. “Headed by Ms. Vexxenna Hawkthorn.” She gestured to Vex, who cringed and gave a wooden wave.
“Yo.”
“Faith, please,” Sin pleaded. “I just need rest.”
“Rest you know you will never receive,” Faith countered gently.
Vex watched the exchange, perplexed. They spoke with a strange certainty, as if the future was a script they’d both read. She knew Fate scrying was a gambler’s game, a mess of possibilities that could shatter a mind. Only a subcaster, a Sybil bound solely to Fate Myst, could navigate it with any clarity, and they often went blind and mad from the visions.
“Sin,” Faith said, her tone a soft warning. “Must I make this an order?”
He gave a resigned sigh. “No.”
“Excellent. Now, I must show Vexxenna to her quarters. Please meet us in my office.”
“Of course, sister dearest,” Sin droned.
Faith turned. “And remember, Sin, use the stairs. We cannot afford more elevator crashes this month.”
As Vex followed Faith, she glanced back just in time to see Sin’s coffee maker burst, jetting scalding water onto his chest. He staggered back, cursing, tripped over his table—breaking one of its legs—and sent the coffee pot tumbling into his noodle cups, ruining the whole pack.
Vex raised an eyebrow but kept walking, resigning herself to the fact she wasn't getting any coffee.
In the elevator, Vex asked, “You’re making your brother take two hundred flights of stairs? Ain't that kinda messed up, even for you?”
“Fret not,” Faith said with a dismissive wave. “Sin will survive the trek. He always does. He always will.”
“Wait, hold up. Say what now?”
Faith gave her a knowing look. “I think it best if he explains his condition himself. I suspect you will want proof. Everyone always does.”
Vex was already tired of this vague, ominous talk. She didn't like Sin; he was a complainer, a "whiny bitch" in her book. But she held her tongue, focusing instead on the promise of a home, a real home, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.
Faith assigned her residence 221. It was a barren, white-walled apartment, but it had a kitchen nook, a bedroom, a living area, and massive holo-windows displaying a scenic mountain forest. Spoiled. For an instant, Vex thought herself spoiled.
“I can have the space furnished within four hours so you can rest,” Faith offered.
A ghostly whisper caught Vex’s ear. “The nails burn from the inside… it hurts… make them stop…”
“Yeah, um. No thanks,” Vex said quickly. “I can sleep on the road. Right now, I want a look inside that book.”
Back in Faith’s office, they cracked open the tome. Each yellowed page held an image of an Omen, a description of its effects, and a magically updating section identifying its current location and owner. The sheer number of horrid devices turned Vex’s stomach: the list detailed items that could steal youth, warp reality, and instantly end an empire. The Omens were not just cursed; they were weapons of existential dread.
As Faith continued to turn the pages of the codex, Vex raised a question that had been bothering her. “So, you said I was going to be heading up a lance? I hate to tell you this, but me and Sinner-Man do not make a lance. Do you have a few others in mind?”
Faith turned another page even as she answered. “As a matter of fact, yes. Tell me, can you list off the roles in a lance?”
“Uh, yeah,” Vex said, racking her brain as she ticked them off on her fingers. “It’s the four S’s. You’ve got your Saber, the main striker who puts targets down fast. Then the Slinger—that's your Mage—the one who brings the arcane firepower and handles magic support. The Shield is the frontline tank, meant to soak up damage and protect the team. And Support handles all the other crap, like healing, tech, and tactical tricks.”
She dropped her hand. “I can fill Saber and Slinger roles easy enough. But I’ve got zero clue what your brother is. So we’d still be short a Shield and Support.”
Faith spoke evenly as she explained, while she continued to examine the codex’s contents. “My brother will likely be filling the roles of Slinger and Shield.”
Vex gave Faith a skeptical look. “Really? Him as a Shield? The tank? I just watched the man get taken out by a coffee pot. I doubt he’ll last two hits before he’s a corpse.”
“Oh, he will be just fine. He will be a Shield not because he is strong, but because he cannot stay dead. His utility is in his resilience, not his power. And if it puts your worries at ease, I have two others lined up to join your lance. Alexander Ashson will be a Shield and Saber. Architallis Zeno will fill the roles of Support and Slinger.”
“Great. Where are these guys?”
“Patience,” Faith chided. “They are waiting for collection. But first, I want you to pick a fifth member.”
“Why?”
“Living with Sin has taught me the necessity of redundancy,” Faith said, finally looking up with a meaningful glance. “If you know anyone with notable tracking and combat skills, I would welcome their support. I can offer them a similar deal.”
One person sprang to Vex’s mind. It seemed she was going to go looking for Trouble. “Yeah. I know a guy.”
“Excellent!” Faith exclaimed. “I have also found our first targets.” She pointed to a page depicting a device of metal gears and crystals. “Since you wish to rest on the road, shall I send you and Sin to collect the remaining lance members?”
“Sure. Where to first?”
Just then, the office door opened and Sin fell to the ground, wheezing like a leaking bellows. He clawed his way to the desk and dragged himself up, looking like a man who had just climbed a mountain. Faith watched with timeless patience; Vex watched with pure irritation.
“Your destination,” Faith said, ignoring her brother’s dramatic entrance, “is the adamantine-class prison, Stygian Eye.”
Vex’s jaw dropped. “We’re working with criminals? Not just criminals, the twisted, nightmare kind? You want me to lead a lance of crazies?”
“Yes,” Faith said with unadorned honesty.
“Are you insane?” Vex pointed an accusing finger. “Did you drink from the Mad Titan’s chalice? You’re as schizo as they are if you think I’m okay with this!”
“Yes.” Vex stared. A lance of self-destructive, cursed criminals. This wasn't a team; it was a cosmic joke. Of course it was.
“Calm yourself,” Faith said gently. “I know both their histories. Neither is truly malicious. One made a bad deal. The other, poor choices in a desperate hour.”
“You’re damned positive they won’t sell our kidneys for a stack of clat?”
“I have never understood that modern colloquialism for currency,” Sin commented between heaving breaths.
“I am certain they will have every reason to help,” Faith said with sure confidence. “They suffer from… similar circumstances as yourself. Curses.”
“I… see,” Vex drew out the words. “Then where exactly is this Stygian Eye?”
“Simple. About a hundred and fifty miles off the western coast, anchored to the seabed.”
“At the bottom of the ocean is simple?!” Vex snapped, throwing her hands in the air.
“Of course. You will teleport there. I have already arranged the permissions.”
“So you do use Fate Myst,” Vex said, proud to have her theory verified.
“Things tend to work out in my favor,” Faith replied with a knowing smile.
“That doesn’t sound cocky at all,” Vex dripped sarcasm.
“She is not,” Sin wheezed, getting his breathing under control. “It is simply a fact. A fact that drives me balefully bitter.”
“I gotta be honest, what the hell was that?”
Faith traded a tired look between them. “Brother, you may explain on your way to the TTZ. It is time for you to begin.” She turned to Vex. “Sin, you recall the last time you were in a submersible. The frame failed. Thirty dead.”
“What?!” Vex asked, half-panicked.
Faith brushed it aside. “He will explain. Sin, start down the stairs. I have something to give Vex.”
As the door closed behind a groaning Sin, Faith retrieved a white and orange disk of interlocking metal plates from a cabinet. “A 5P4RK semi-autonomous drone,” she explained, handing it to Vex. “My link to you in the field. It is also tied directly to Archive funds, so do be careful with it.”
Faith pressed a button on her keyboard. The disk expanded and leaped from Vex’s hands to hover before her, chirping as it scanned her.
Vex’s face lit up in a rare, unguarded moment of joy. “Ooh!” she squealed, snatching the drone from the air and hugging it. “I promise I’ll take good care of Sparky!”
The newly named drone let out a panicked squeak.
Faith gave her a quizzical look. “You have named it already?”
“Well, duh,” Vex said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “5P4RK can be read as Spark. But he’s too cute to be just Spark. So he needs a ‘y’ to make him Sparky.”
“I… see,” Faith said slowly. “Well, you should meet Sin in the entry hall. You are scheduled to arrive at Stygian Eye in approximately one and a half hours.”
“Hear ya,” Vex said, turning for the elevators, Sparky cradled in her arms.
