Crown's eyes remained dark for a moment, shadows flickering beneath them like embers smothered in ash. Name sat quietly, tense but attentive.
"Aarin isn't just a village, Name," Crown said at last, his voice low and deliberate. "As the center of the multiverses, it holds more responsibility than any single universe can comprehend. From ensuring the safety of the multiverse to erasing universes that threaten the balance...we are the unseen arbiters."
Crown paused, as if choosing his next words carefully.
"You can imagine, then, what would happen if knowledge of such a place became widespread."
Name frowned slightly, already sensing where this was going.
"People would try to conquer it," he said softly.
Crown nodded. "Exactly. If even a whisper about Aarin's true nature reached the wrong ears, armies would be raised. Entire civilizations would fall into madness just for a chance to hold dominion over all existence. But oddly enough… that has never happened."
He leaned forward, his eyes sharp.
"Do you know why?"
Name shook his head silently.
Crown gave a faint smile, but it did not reach his eyes.
"It's because of the Guardian."
The room seemed to grow colder with those words.
"Our great ancestor...one of the Originals...created a being unlike any other. A creature not bound by time or morality. The Guardian can collapse entire star systems with a whisper. It can erase timelines, devour memories, and wipe out realities before they're even born."
Crown's tone was reverent, fearful.
"One of its sacred duties is to eliminate anyone who spreads forbidden knowledge...anyone who speaks of Aarin, or our multiversal duties, to someone who was never meant to know. There is no warning. No judgment. Just death."
Name's blood ran cold.
"But… I'm alive," he muttered. "People have told me things. The boy who brought me here...he mentioned Aarin to me before I ever came here."
Crown chuckled softly. "Yes, Lucen. He's an interesting creature. But just saying the word 'Aarin' isn't enough to invoke the Guardian's wrath. It's the deeper truth...the multiversal connection, our role in fate...that must remain hidden."
He gave Name a meaningful look. "Had Lucen told you that part, you wouldn't be sitting here."
Name swallowed.
"But you're telling me now," he said.
Crown nodded solemnly. "Because I can. I am the Zenith of Aarin. The Guardian does not act against the Zenith...not because it cannot, but because our ancestors granted the Zenith a singular, sacred authority. An exception."
He rose and walked to the window, looking out toward the shimmering veil of energy that danced beyond the village.
"To give the Zenith this right, our ancestors created a unique Apace...one not of destruction, or manipulation, but of Authority.
It's called "The Apace of Authority"
The Apace of Authority allows the Zenith alone to speak of Aarin's truth. That is why no one else in this village can tell you what I've told you. It would kill them."
Name finally understood why the boy...Lucen...had been so cryptic, so careful with his words.
Crown turned back to him, calm but deadly serious.
"Do you understand now, Name? Where you are… and what you've become tangled in?"
Name hesitated for a moment, then asked, "You still haven't told me… What exactly is an Apace?"
Crown blinked, then let out a soft sigh. "Ah, right. Forgive me. I keep forgetting...you've lost your memory."
He walked over to the chair opposite Name and sat down again, folding his hands on his lap.
"In Aarin, people hold two types of power. One is called Apace, and the other is Silhouette. They are the foundation of our strength...the legacy of our ancestors. But they're not things you can simply train for or steal. That's because they choose their hosts."
Name frowned slightly. "They… choose?"
"Yes." Crown nodded. "Apace and Silhouette are not tools. They are living wills...manifestations of ancient purpose. You cannot acquire them through training or ambition alone. They find you… if you match their nature."
He paused, then continued, "Let me explain. Apace came first. They were created by our ancestors as vessels of will. The first five Apace were born with traits, instructions...that dictate what kind of person they seek. These traits aren't powers themselves; they're the criteria for selection. For example, an Apace might seek someone who values sacrifice above all, or someone who embraces chaos."
"And if you match?" Name asked.
"Then the Apace chooses you," Crown said. "It bonds to you. Each Apace contains a single ability...sometimes vital, like controlling time. Sometimes more subtle, like enhancing intuition or creating perfect silence in a space."
Name's eyes narrowed. "So they're not all equal."
"No," Crown agreed. "But every Apace grows stronger over time. The longer it stays with a host, the more powerful its ability becomes. And importantly...Apace can be passed down. A host can willingly give their Apace to another. They can even modify the trait it looks for and release it to choose someone new."
Name took a breath, letting it settle in. "And the Silhouette?"
Crown's expression darkened slightly.
"Silhouette… are different. More volatile. More dangerous. While Apace is a single will, Silhouettes are a gathering of many wills compressed into a living creature. The creature can be anything...an ant, a wolf, a dragon. Once it becomes a Silhouette, it ceases to be alive in the traditional sense. No free will. No thought. Just a vessel of power."
He continued, "When traits are given to a Silhouette, it begins to search for a host. Unlike Apace, it cannot be transferred or released. Once it finds someone matching its design, it bonds permanently."
"What kind of abilities do they have?" Name asked quietly.
"Both minor and major," Crown replied. "A single Silhouette might offer multiple abilities...illusion, enhanced senses, regeneration, flame control, shadow manipulation, and more. But their power comes with unpredictability. Silhouettes are inherently unstable. Even the host might not know how many abilities lie dormant within."
Crown rose from his seat and moved to the center of the room.
"Both Apace and Silhouette are divided into phases...a measure of growth and mastery. Most contain five phases. But unique ones… ancient or anomalous… may hold seven, even nine phases. But the higher you climb the more risky it gets. "
"There was once a host in the First Age whose Silhouette was a wolf of living smoke. It could disappear into shadows and feed on fear...but the host lost his sanity after the third phase."
Name stared down at his hands, the weight of this new world pressing into him with every word.
Power that chooses you.
Power that lives and grows.
Power that judges whether you're worthy...or not.
Name leaned forward, brows drawn together in thought.
"So… are Apace and Silhouette only connected to Aarin?"
Crown shook his head. "No. They roam the multiverse, untethered. Wherever someone matches their trait, they respond...whether that person is in Aarin or on some forgotten world buried in darkness."
Name tilted his head. "Then… why don't more people talk about them?"
"Because most never realize they've bonded with one," Crown replied. "You don't feel an Apace or Silhouette bind to you...not at first. There are specific rituals that allow proper connection, rituals passed down here in Aarin. But out there in the wider multiverse, most people live and die unaware… even if they've been chosen."
A chill settled into the room.
"And when the host dies," Crown continued, "the Apace or Silhouette leaves their body and begins the search for a new one."
Name took a moment to process that. "How many are there?"
Crown looked upward, as if searching for a memory buried deep in history.
"The exact number? Unknown. According to our earliest records, our ancestors created five Apace and seven Silhouettes during the foundation of Aarin. These first creations were said to be unimaginably powerful...but their traits were also… twisted. No one's ever recorded successfully hosting one of the originals."
Name's stomach churned.
Crown went on, "After that, the number began to grow. Over time, new Apace and Silhouettes were created...refined, gentler, more useful. And as generations passed, something remarkable happened: once a host reaches a certain phase, they gain the ability to split their Apace or Silhouette into fragments, each fragment becoming a smaller version of the original."
"So they multiply?" Name said, surprised.
"Yes. Not endlessly, but enough that over centuries, they've become too numerous to track."
After a long pause, Name asked quietly, "How many Apace can one person hold?"
"Usually? Just one," Crown answered. "Most never even get that. same goes for Silhouette. But I've seen rare cases...very rare...of individuals holding two or even three Apace, or one Apace and one Silhouette."
"Only three?" Name echoed, his voice laced with disappointment.
Crown gave a soft chuckle. "Don't be so quick to scoff, Name. You're underestimating just how specific...how conflicting...the traits can be."
He stood and began pacing slowly.
"One Apace may seek someone who values absolute loyalty. Another may look for someone who trusts no one. You see the problem?"
He turned toward Name, expression serious. "The more traits you match, the more they begin to contradict each other. To carry multiple Apace or Silhouettes is not just rare...it means you walk a razor-thin edge between harmony and collapse."
He paused.
"Achieving even two is a feat of greatness."
"So if I just follow the trait an Apace or Silhouette looks for," Name said slowly, "I can get one, right?"
Crown gave a dry, humorless laugh. "You're taking this far too lightly, Name."
His voice dropped a note colder.
"Most of what we know about Apace and Silhouettes is fragmented...half-whispers passed down through generations. Just following a trait isn't enough. Imagine an Apace that bonds with serial killers. So you start killing people, hoping to attract it. But it won't choose you...because your desire isn't truly for blood, but for power. You don't match the essence. You're just wearing a mask."
Name's expression darkened.
Crown continued, "Besides, most who do earn an Apace pass it on to their bloodline. That's how the nine clans of Aarin were born...five major, four minor. Each bound by ancestral Apace. Some are similar, some are near identical. Though... there are exceptions."
Name's curiosity sharpened. "And which clan did I belong to?"
Crown shook his head. "None. You're not from Aarin. You were brought here when you were nine. you're an outsider...Just like me."
A heavy silence followed.
Crown fixed his eyes on him, sharp and cold.
"I told you there are five major clans," he said. "But now, there are only four. One was slaughtered… six months ago. Not a single survivor left."
Name's breath caught in his throat.
"That was the same time you went missing… and the previous Zenith was found dead."
A chill wrapped around Name's spine. His chest tightened as a terrible thought crept into his mind.
Is he… is he saying I had something to do with that? No… That can't be. Did I walked into death trap?
Crown's gaze didn't soften.
"There are things I need to tell you. Things no one else can hear. If a single word gets out, it could mean death...for both of us."
Name gave a hesitant nod.
"But before that," Crown said, stepping closer, "you need to take part in the Ritual of Will."
"What?" Name blinked. "Now?"
"This is Aarin," Crown said firmly. "Without power, you're nothing. The words I'm about to share will be meaningless without your Apace awakened. Worse...they'll put a target on your back."
Crown paused, then added, "You had a unique Apace before you vanished. Apace can't be removed… but its power can fade, especially when the host forgets who they are."
"You mean… me?" Name whispered.
"Yes. And to reclaim it… you must take the Ritual."
Name's face showed both fear and confusion. "When?"
Crown stepped back into the shadows of the room. The light around him dimmed, as if something ancient had stirred just beneath the surface of reality.
He smiled...not kindly, but with the weight of everything Name didn't yet understand.
"When you ask?" Crown's word echoed, voice low and final.
His eyes gleamed like obsidian.
"Right now."
And with those two words, the walls of the world began to shift.