Fall of the Spectrum

Chapter Six

"Along with their desire to make peace with humanity and preserve the natural world, the High Council created the Spectrum for a myriad of other reasons as well. As humanity's belief in the old gods began to dwindle, their malign counterparts grew in power, becoming even more dangerous."

Gwen turned the dial just as Forneus had shown her, the lateral projectors shifting the ethereal archive so that she could read the next paragraph. The letters, while particularly large and dark, were still difficult to make out, given their translucence and the shifting background behind them. With an impatient sigh, Gwen tapped several of the keys to her right. The letters darkened, the words appearing solid enough that had she not known any better, she might have tried to pluck them from the hollowed-out centre of the console.

Much better.

She continued reading, absently chewing her lower lip all the while.

"Naturally, this meant that not only did the council need to protect Earth and her children, but the children and descendants of all great beings and magic. It was in the midst of creating the Spectrum that it was decided it would function as a military base, safe haven, and 'bridge between worlds' combined."

Another twist of the dial, another tap to the keys on her right. Gwen shifted, vaguely aware of the tense set of her shoulders from hunching over the console, her elbows sore from where they rested on its curved sides. A quick glance to her right revealed Forneus barely a few feet away, contemplating her over steepled fingers with a steaming mug of something in front of him.

With another sigh, Gwen turned back to the archive, resigned to the task Forneus had set for her.

"Though most operatives and Spectrum citizens can teleport at will, the gods felt it necessary to create portal access points for those who could not, or for those who sustained great injury or energy loss. While most of these access points are fixed, others relocate after an allotted amount of time. The Spectrum also has many areas where teleportation is prohibited, ensuring that not just anyone wanders in without the Fourth Unit's knowledge—regardless of whether they bear the appropriate aura marking them as an operative, or not."

When Gwen tilted the projectors to find there was nothing more on the subject, she expelled a breath, relief loosening the muscles between her shoulder blades. "Finally."

"You've finished?"

Gwen tapped a few more of the console's keys just to be sure. "Looks like it." She cast a wary glance over her shoulder. "Unless you had more tedious histories for me to go through."

Forneus grinned at her. "I haven't ruled it out." At Gwen's strangled sound of protest, he chuckled, "All right, tomorrow then. It's time for your training with Astral now, anyway."

Gathering up her gear, Gwen followed him out into the pyrite corridor and up the many levels leading toward the Training Facility, the two of them walking in companionable silence.

As they walked, she couldn't help thinking about what Forneus had told her regarding the last council meeting, how tense things had gotten—and how a good chunk of that had been owed to her. Or to her lack of progress, at any rate. Much as she had insisted she could handle it, the truth had been quite the opposite. Plagued by nightmares, Gwen had awoken in the dead of night, trembling and soaked in cold sweat. Despite all of her efforts, despite four of the artifacts being back in the council's possession due to those efforts, it wasn't enough.

But when Gwen thought about all the lives that had been lost, she had to wonder; in their shoes, wouldn't she feel the same? Had she been one of the surviving operatives witnessing one of their own die—a friend, a brother, a partner—wouldn't she look for someone to blame, just as they had done to her? It might not have been right or fair, but that didn't make it any less understandable. They needed someone to blame, and Gwen had provided the perfect scapegoat for them.