Chapter 2: The Other Kytra

Over the next two hours, the stream of teenagers trickling into the Hall of Science grew dense and hurried. As the start of the convention ticked closer, families scuttled up and down rows of booths in search of their teen's number. Evolice and Kyrillis soon found themselves packed tight by the frantic mob while they explored the many exhibits coming to life all around them.

The crowd, bathed in blue from the fish-filled waters above, had a current of its own. Evolice could barely read the complex scientific titles of the strange and varied exhibits before she was swept on to the next booth. She quickly found herself separated from Kyrillis by a family of six and had to stand on her toes just to catch a glimpse of him beyond the well-built father with his youngest daughter on his shoulders. By the time she came to the end of the row, Evolice had lost Kyrillis among the sea of people.

"Evolice, over here!"

She followed the voice to an open area near the wall and saw a hand waving above the crowd.

"Sorry for getting dragged off like that," said Kyrillis as she joined him. His loose fit pants had fallen back beneath his ragged shoes, and his button up had come untucked. "Absolute chaos in here, isn't it?"

"It'll be calmer once all the parents leave," Evolice assured him. "They're kicking 'em all out at nine, and that should be any time now."

~Ring Ding Ding~

As if on cue, the sound of bells chimed from index stations across the room, drowning out all chatter in the hall. Then came a voice, bass and boisterous.

"Welcome families, welcome friends," the voice spoke, and the whole hall stopped moving. Even the fish in the waters above looked attentive, "but most importantly, welcome to the many contestants of the Eighty-Eighth Annual Vision Scholar Awards."

Cheering erupted in the hall as teens were showered in nudges, pats, and prideful whoop's from their parents.

"My name is Doctor Jeromy T. Hawberk, and I will be your host today. You may know me from my time at the University of Ebenterry or my recent book, A Rotation to Understand Everything. But, we're not here today to talk about me. You are our future, and before anything else, I would simply like to say that I am proud of each and every one of you for coming this far."

Again, cheering broke out. Doctor Hawberk seemed to expect it as he paused and waited for the noise to settle.

"Your tale is far from over, however, and just as we celebrate how far you've come, we must look to the path forward. You are the very best your generation has to offer, but among you, only four will claim the title of Vision Scholar. Vision Scholars are more than inventors, more than authors, more than scientists or historians. Vision Scholars define the future for their communities and their world."

"In just thirty minutes the doors will open, and the world's greatest minds will enter these halls. Many will ask you questions, but only three will be your judges, true experts in their field. Over the course of the day, you will be tested by these judges. You will not know them, but they will know you. Keep your mind sharp and ready; they could come at any moment."

A silent excitement stirred in the hall, as feet shifted and eyes brightened.

"Now, we would ask that family and friends finish up and prepare to take your leave. We offer you our thanks for all your help in bringing these champions this far, but today is their day to shine. Presenters, please find your booths and prepare yourselves. Your moment is very nearly at hand."

At that, the voice cut out. There was a moment of silence then a wave of chatter all at once.

"Go on," said Kyrillis. "You'll definitely want to beat the crowd."

"Yeah, good idea," said Evolice. She ran a hand through her hair to ensure the Lyza flower hadn't fallen out in all the chaos, and her fingers met its soft petals. "It was awesome meeting you. Thanks again for the flower."

"No, thank you," said Kyrillis with a genuine grin. "I would've socked that ass if not for you. Say, would you want to maybe meet up for lunch later... It doesn't have to be just us or anything. Bring whoever... you know?"

"Oh, sure," said Evolice. "I'll see you at lunch then.”

"Magic! Oh, and good luck." He offered her his hand.

"Good luck to you, too, Kyrillis," she said, ignoring his hand and giving him a hug. Evolice then left the blushing boy and the Hall of Science behind her.

At first, the passage back was fairly empty, and Evolice thought she'd beaten the crowd. By the time she reached the bridge to the North Wing, however, there was hardly enough room to fit everyone, and Evolice was fighting a sea of families all trying to leave at once. Jostled, out of breath, but determined, Evolice fought the stream of proud mothers and bored siblings all the way to the Hall of Language Arts. She was met in the doorway by a swarm of silver letters that buzzed around each other until they formed a sentence.

She was welcome, always in that place.

Just as they formed, the letters dispersed, buzzing away into the covered markets. The once empty marketplace now burst with energy. The exhibits here were artful and splashed in color, and the red-cloth tarps covering the streets provided the perfect level of shade for reading. For every book cover, abstract animation, or painting of words, was an artist, just as eccentric and very much part of their display. Soft melodies of harp and flute floated throughout the markets, setting a calm and curious mood, despite the heavy crowds.

As parents gave their teens last hugs and shuffled other children out the exit, Evolice pushed her way towards the back of the hall. By the time she reached the ruins area of the hall, most of the families were gone. Inside the sandstone walls of the broken-down structures, Evolice could see boys and girls fiddling with their index displays or adjusting towers of hardcover books. The great temple at the end of the road was bustling as well; Evolice caught a glimpse of some twenty or so presenters chatting with each other and gesturing towards their displays.

The walled off garden beside the temple, however, was the quietest spot in the whole hall. It appeared no one else had thought to come back here, or if they had, they'd found the only display was already claimed. Evolice tread along the narrow sand trail through the flower-filled lawn. The wooden pagoda at the center of the courtyard sat atop a clear-water pond and was shaded by the great white-leafed boughs of the Deity Tree. As Evolice crossed the short span of bridge leading to the pagoda, she saw a pair of teal and black splotched fish swim out from under the structure. She hadn't noticed them before.

"Hello friends," she said down at the fish, as one chased the other beneath the bridge and back out the other side. "Looks like you're my only neighbors today."

She watched them play for a few minutes before entering into the pagoda. Its half-walls provided a perfect view of the courtyard's stone arch entryway.

"Index— erm, sorry. ID-249," said Evolice, as she approached the round wooden table in the middle of the pagoda.

"Yes, Miss Nadima," came a cheery voice as the pyramid at the center of the table flickered on.

"Go ahead and load up my display," said Evolice.

"Right away, ma'am," ID-249 chimed back. "Could I say, your timing is impeccable. The doors will open to guests in exactly seven and a half seconds."

As ID-249 spoke, the air above the table began to glow, and a large sphere took shape. It was a globe of Inya, the whole world. On one side, the two continents of man were divided up into different colored regions. The smaller continent, Irasil, in the south had only two major areas, navy blue in the west and a sandy yellow-brown in the east. The Northern continent, Karkatta, was spotted in dozens of different colored territories. At the southern pole sprawled a massive icy continent. Its only light belonged to Innit'Ro, a silvery blue speck on its northernmost peninsula. Across the world from the continents of man, surrounded only by the sea, was the capillum owned continent, Roana. It, too, glowed, a solid forest green across the whole landmass.

Evolice's eyes rested on Roana. Though Doctor Hawberk hadn't said anything about a grand prize, Evolice could just picture it, a chance to visit the fabled treetop city of Gau, to meet the capillum council, and learn about the most reclusive culture in the world. It was the prize she never knew she wanted, so far outside the realm of possibility that it had never entered her wildest imaginings. And crazy as it was, deep down, she was sure Garrett wasn't lying. As her mother would say, "That gut of yours knows people better than they know themselves." Evolice shook herself from her thoughts. The judges could arrive any moment.

"ID-249, how do I look?" she asked. "Anything in my teeth?" Evolice smiled wide towards the device.

"Properly, professionally, perfectly presentable," said the device.

"249, you flatterer," she teased, glancing around to the stone archway leading off towards the temple. Not a single person had stepped foot in the courtyard since Evolice arrived. The only sound she heard was a soft ambient chatter and a faint melody over the garden walls.

"So, the guests and judges, they're let in now, right?" Evolice asked, tapping her foot in time with the music. "Probably checking-in."

"Yes ma'am," piped ID-249, "several have already made their way to this hall."

"Any minute now then," she said. Going to the front of the pagoda, she stood on the bridge and struck a professional pose. She held like that for several minutes, before her feet began to hurt. Her shoes were flat and hard, providing next to no support. She shifted her weight a couple times, hoping that would help, then gave up and went back into the structure.

"Miss Evolice? I'm detecting common indicators of anxiousness," said ID-249 sounding concerned. "Would you perhaps wish to remain seated until the guests arrive? These benches might not be optimized for comfort, but they should serve well enough. I can inform you should anyone enter the courtyard."

"That's okay, I'd rather stand," said Evolice, tapping her foot faster.

Over the next half hour, the hall grew louder. Despite the busy sounds from the market, Evolice hadn't seen a soul in the courtyard. She was beginning to think she should have chosen a stall in the market or a snug spot in the ruins, when, suddenly, a portly man waddled confidently through the stone arch entryway. He was short, round, and looked very much at home among the ruins of the ancient fantasy city.

The man's simple brown tunic hung loosely over his belly. It was secured over his coarse pants by a twisted rope belt, the frayed ends of which hung just above his pudgy sandaled feet. He had a wide nose, bushy brows, and the strangest haircut Evolice had ever seen. The top of his head was entirely bald, while curtains of straight chestnut hair draped from just above his ears, down below his shoulders. In one arm he held an enormous tome, easily several thousand pages long. Every step he took was fueled by purpose, a purpose that brought him straight to Evolice's pagoda. He waved awkwardly, as he struggled to fit his belly through the narrow entryway.

"Ms. Nadima?" He asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "No doubt. I am Byron Brystal. You've heard of me? Or not. A poet am I. These are my words. Wound together. Made to stick." He held up his mighty tome. "One a day for fifty years. Many languages. Many words. Zi fuis wi naut? Cofro lu Ho? Szjin Qwi? Do you know what I ask?"

"Yes," said Evolice, standing straight and proper. This man was definitely judge material. "You asked the same question in several languages, 'Will you accept my challenge?' I don't understand though, you never specified the challenge."

"A battle of words. A contest of meanings," his stubby fingers wriggled excitedly as he spoke. "Which polyglot is superior?" He swung open his tome and began leafing through the pages. "Here," he said, jamming his finger into a short passage near the top of a page.

Evolice hesitated a moment, but Byron waved her over. She stood beside him, staring down at the passage.

"A clue perhaps? But only one. Use it wisely," said Byron.

"That's okay, I don't need it," said Evolice. "This is Salduni, an older form, maybe second millennia."

"Oh wonderful," Byron snapped the fingers of his free hand vigorously.

"It's a poem," Evolice continued. "My daughter sleeps beneath the soil, and me, upon a spear. For she would never know of purpose, me, never of fear."

Byron snapped again.

"Wonderful. Wonderful. It is now your turn." He looked at her expectantly.

Evolice turned to the globe ID-249 was projecting. Inspired by that morning's events, she knew exactly how she'd fool Byron. Confidently, Evolice tapped the small silvery-blue dot of Innit'Ro. The globe flickered, and a blown-up document took its place. The manuscript was covered in curious scrawling.

"Oh, ho. What's this." Byron waddled closer, his brown eyes tracing over the letters. "Aim to fool me? Harsh luck. This is Innit, no doubt. Tale of the great sea serpent."

"Impressive," said Evolice, a bit shaken. If he knew Innit, what could she possibly trump him with?

For the next ten minutes, the two went back and forth. He tried to catch her off guard with Roani, the capillum tongue. She countered with Iprit, a long dead language from Karkatta. It wasn't until Byron flipped to the very rear of his book that Evolice found herself stumped.

"This page, if you please." Byron pointed to a loose page tucked into the very rear cover of the tome as he wore a triumphant smile, revealing his yellow teeth. "Not an original. A work I collected."

The letters on this page were tiny and chaotic. They didn't resemble anything Evolice had encountered, so she knew it must be a very old language. She didn't panic; however, instead, Evolice reached one hand to her blue-stone necklace. The other rested softly on the tome that Byron held open for her. Evolice's fingers traced the letters, and a pearly light followed every movement. Evolice saw Byron's unchanged stare and knew that he couldn't see the light; no one could but her.

The voice started quiet in her mind, but quickly it grew louder. It was a girl about Evolice's age.

"I sat in the back of the hut. I should have been at the front, but I didn't want his mother to see me. I would have broken. I would have shown them I'm weak without him. I have to be strong without him. When the flames ate his body, I could smell his death... I will smell it for the rest of my life, but that may not be much longer. If I am not strong, I will be left behind, but I cannot stop my tears."

By the time Evolice pulled her hand from the page, her eyes were drenched in the woman's sadness and the smell of burning flesh filled her nose.

"Even ancient Piacean? Your expression tells all," gasped Byron, clearly impressed. "I must declare stalemate. A first. You are truly gifted. Well beyond myself at your age."

"Thank you," said Evolice weakly, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"What you understand, I've always sought to know," he said, though Evolice wasn't quite sure what he meant. "Your heart is human. Just incredible." Without another word, he spun right around and waddled away, leaving Evolice teary-eyed and speechless.

For the next half hour Evolice mulled over her encounter with Byron in silence. The horrible sadness of the woman in his book was etched into the corners of her mind. Evolice breathed in and out. Remembering where she was, remembering who she was, just as her mother taught her.

She sat back onto a bench and collected herself. Byron could have been a judge. It made sense; he was the only person to wander into her garden all morning. Plus, his polyglot challenge was hardly subtle. If he was a judge, then she was confident she nailed his test. The thought began to cheer her up. That left only two more judges, and after Byron, she felt she could tackle anything.

Unlike the loud and lively markets, the Courtyard got no busier as the morning went on. At one point, a pair of women came to the entrance and peaked inside, only to shuffle off when they locked eyes with Evolice, alone in the pagoda. Minutes turned to hours, and Evolice paced about the pagoda, each step in time with the carefree melodies that drifted over the walls.

"Congratulations, Ms. Nadima, you've reached your ten thousandth step for the day," chimed ID-249, suddenly breaking the silence.

"Oh— thanks," Said Evolice, snapping out of her thoughts. Her mind had calmed, but her feet were starting to ache from all the laps around the hardwood floor. "You know, 249," she said. "I'm going to take you up on that seat. Just let me know if someone comes by, alright?"

"Of course," said ID-249 helpfully. "And should I alert you to your current guest, or just guests in the future?"

"My current— what?" Evolice spun sharply towards the stone arch entryway to find an older woman hobbling towards her. The woman had an arched back supported by a stubby wooden walking stick. In her other hand was a long metal cane that she tapped back and forth in front of every step. Between the cane and her oversized sunglasses, Evolice guessed the woman must be blind, so she rushed from the pagoda to meet her along the trail.

"Excuse me, ma'am, can I—?" Evolice began to say as she reached the blind old woman, but suddenly, a strange feeling rushed over her, like a word at the tip of her tongue that she simply couldn't find. She was certain she knew this woman, but had no idea how.

"I'm sorry," said Evolice. "This might sound silly, but have we met before?" Though Evolice couldn't place where, she knew beyond a doubt this wasn't her first encounter with the blind woman.

"My dear, you must be mistaken," the woman's voice was quiet and raspy. She spoke with a smile on her thin lips and, despite her blindness, met Evolice's gaze with her own. "You must have seen my face on one of my novels."

"No, it's not that," said Evolice, prodding the corners of her mind. Something told her it was a recent encounter. "Maybe on our class trip to the seven cities?"

The woman shook her head.

"I know it sounds crazy..." said Evolice confidently. "But I'm never wrong about these things. I just know." She wasn't about to distrust her ability after it won over Byron. That said, she could do without the still lingering smell of death.

"My girl, I appreciate your enthusiasm," said the tiny woman, "but I can assure you, this is the first time I've left my estate in years. After all, one does not get out much when writing the twelfth novel of Deity." She swayed back and forth on her walking stick triumphantly.

"You're Annalaide Martin," gasped Evolice, her cheeks burning an abyssal red. Evolice had never been so glad for someone being blind. For the first time in as long as she could remember, Evolice's gut had failed her. To make matters worse, not only had she just embarrassed herself, she had done so in front of a personal hero whose imaginings this whole hall was designed after.

"A.L. Martin in the flesh," crowed the woman. "But do not worry dear, it appears I, too, am mistaken. I was searching for a particular exhibit, Proof of the Human Soul. My index— damn thing— is reporting that no such display exists."

Evolice's heart jumped. This was judge number two, no doubt. It was a rough start, but there was still time to turn this around. She steadied herself and remembered Ms. Lapour's words: no more talk of knowing things.

"No-no, you're in just the right place," said Evolice, overly pleasant. "Proof of the human soul was the old name. It's called 'The Universal Language' now. Last minute change, but my display is just—" she began pointing back to the pagoda then stopped, remembering the woman was blind. "You know, I can just tell you about that right here."

"Oh, well alright," said Annalaide, looking quite amused, "but before you get lost in it, can I maybe just ask a question?""

"Yes, of course," said Evolice.

"Now, I've heard all about your translating act..." she said, "very impressive by the way."

"Thank you."

"That's all great, but it was your original title that piqued my interest," said Annalaide. "Proof of the Human Soul, how very intriguing. May I ask why you chose that word, ‘proof’?"

Evolice's heart and mind were instantly at war. There was no air in her lungs, no breath in her mouth. She desperately wanted to tell Annalaide everything, but after what just happened... In the back of her mind, her own mental Ms. Lapour reminded her what was at stake. The scholarship was her best chance at ever finding answers about the light in the words.

"It was just fanciful. Ms. Lapour helped me see that," said Evolice softly.

"No, I don't think that's it," said Annalaide dismissively. "Look at me, just like you... trusting my gut. Proof. Proooof. PROOF. It's a very powerful word, isn't it? But not fanciful." Her thin lips curled. "No, I think you choose your words carefully, and proof is no exception."

Evolice didn't know what to say. There was a moment of quiet between them.

"Proof is airtight, concise, unchanging," said Annalaide, finally breaking the silence. "I wouldn't think the opinion of one woman a strong enough force to break proof."

"I..." said Evolice, but she knew Annalaide was right. "I see more than words when I read."

The woman's face lit up, intrigue etched across every wrinkle. "Yes," she cooed. "Tell me about that, if you please."

"It started when I was six," Evolice began. The words felt right. This was the presentation she'd always wanted to give. The one she'd rehearsed all night. "My grandmother always wore this necklace... well you can't see it, but I'm wearing it now... and for some reason, I was always just drawn to it. I wanted it more than anything in the world, so, on my sixth birthday, she wrapped it up in a little blue box for me as a gift. I don't think there's a day I've taken it off since. It feels almost like a part of me... but that's just the first part of it."

Evolice had the woman's undivided attention.

"I've always been a big reader," said Evolice, "But I've always read differently than others. Most people read the words, they listen to the story, and they lose themselves in those characters. Me though, I was obsessed with how these little etchings on a page painted images. They made me feel as if I was in another world running and crying and living this whole different life, all from the cozy bean bag in my closet. I wanted to understand more words, and one by one I picked up languages—"

Annalaide coughed loudly.

"Right," said Evolice. "Human soul." She took a second to collect her thoughts and jumped ahead. "I remember first seeing the light less than a year after grandma gave me the necklace. I was reading something my mother wrote for me, just a silly little poem. She wrote them all the time. But, as I read, the voice I heard in my head, her voice, it wasn't saying the words on the page. It was worried about some dumb memo, and Unity Feast dinner, and picking up the cat from the vet, and the alca wouldn't be out of the shop for an hour still, and in all that chaos, it was full of love for me. She said things to me she'd never said before, because simply, there aren't words for them."

"The soul imprinted upon a page," said Annalaide softly. "You do not know now, but you are more than some silly Vision Scholar contestant. Never, ever, betray your gift again."

"I'm sorry," said Evolice, then a realization sparked. "But wait—you see the light, too, don't you?"

"I do not see anything," said Annalaide cheekily. "But I hear some things. Whispers in the words, nothing more. Not like you."

"This changes everything," said Evolice, excitedly. "It's always been just me. I've felt emotion I can't put into words, things you have to live to know. And for every laugh, there's a cry. Like the smell of a loved one burned to ash. I can't tell anyone what I hear, and I don't know why or what to do with it. But if you hear it too, you can tell me what it all means, can't you?"

"Perhaps," said Annalaide. "Hold this." She tossed her cane to Evolice, who caught it at the last second, avoiding her face by an inch. Annalaide dug into her red leather purse and procured a tattered hand-notebook. It was bound in rope with a faded cloth cover. Many of its pages had seen better days. They were colored and torn, and many corners stuck out the sides. "Yes, now you take this," said Annalaide, "And I'll just snag that back from you."

Evolice traded the cane for the book but dare not open it, as it felt even more fragile than it looked.

"Why so hesitant?" asked the old woman expectantly. "Or do you think I handed you the book for you to stare at its cover?"

Carefully as she could, Evolice parted the covers. What she found inside was like no language she had ever seen. In fact, it didn't look like language at all. Concentric ovals, rough and uneven, were scribbled one inside another, looking almost like a tunnel winding deep into the page.

"I don't understand," said Evolice, turning the page to find the same scribbles on the next page and the page after that.

"Stop looking," said Annalaide. "Listen."

"You mean—"

"Yes, clearly."

"It might be easier if I sat."

"Well, go on then."

Evolice took a seat on the grass beside the path, folding her legs criss crossed. Feeling quite self-conscious, she placed the book upon her lap and reached one hand to the blue stone on her necklace. With her free hand, Evolice began to trace the circles. The light started faint but quickly flared. It shimmered and crackled along each curve her fingers followed, and then she heard the boy. His voice had a power to it, clearer than any she'd ever heard while reading. And yet, he sounded very young, a child no older than six or seven.

"I don't ever want to leave but they always make me. I just wish they would let me stay with Miss Nylk forever. Oh you have to eat, oh you have to meh-duh-tate, oh you have to learn learn learn. Blah blah blah Brother Ee-dee-goooo. Miss Nylk shows me her garden, and it's so wonderful and strange and anything at all is possible there. But I guess if I stayed in her garden forever-forever, I couldn't swim with Ibrahim, and then he wouldn't have anyone to help him when he goes out too far. He'd yell Glavy Glavy, and there wouldn't be anybody at all. That would be very very bad, so I guess it's okay I have to leave sometimes—"

"Ms. Nadima... quite alright...?"

The young boy retreated deep into Evolice's mind, as a hand shook her shoulder. The whole world seemed to be rocking, and there were three arms reaching out from Annalaide.

"You... so very... too quiet... unnatural," said Annalaide, her voice muddled and distant, as if she were calling out from far away. "I'm sorry... in fairness... maybe stopped breathing."

"No..." said Evolice, doing her best to breathe slow and deep. The boy's words still echoed around her mind, too quiet now to make out. "I heard a boy. I've never... it was so intense. He was here. He was... me? How?" The rocking world was beginning to slow, and there was now only one arm reaching out from the old blind woman.

"First thing, let's get you off that dirt," said Annalaide, looking kindly down at Evolice. "Would you care for a hand up?"

"Oh no," said Evolice, hoisting herself off the ground. The moment she stood, she regretted it, as the world broke into a full-on spin. Evolice took a clumsy step forward, and she felt Annalaide's surprisingly strong grasp on her arm, stopping her fall. "Okay," said Evolice. She breathed deep. The world slowed. "I'm up."

"Very, very impressive," said Annalaide, leaning forward on her walking stick. "A language no one has understood for centuries, and you, a girl of sixteen, can hear the words."

"Does this mean you'll tell me what you know?" asked Evolice hopefully.

"I would," said Annalaide, "but, in truth, there's nothing for me to tell you. I acquired that book thinking I could make it speak, just as the man who sold it and the one before him. We heard nothing. So, I brought it here, to see if anyone could succeed where so many had failed. That brings us to you. All I can tell you is that it first belonged to a people called the Old-Scholars."

"Well, I suppose that's a start," said Evolice. "Old-Scholars... I've never heard of them."

"I hadn't either, before I found the book," shrugged Annalaid. "From what I hear, very little of their culture survived. Then again, I'm no historian."

"No historian... of course!" exclaimed Evolice. "The Halls of History! Maybe someone there will know more about the Old-Scholars."

"My job here is done," said Annalaide with a teacher's pride. "Go, Evolice, and find your answers." The old woman turned to leave, but paused. "I cannot tell you the joy our conversation has brought me. I find it rare to meet an equal these days, let alone one with a heart like yours. Goodbye, Evolice Nadima."

"Wait," said Evolice, suddenly realizing she still held the precious notebook. "You forgot this."

"I do not forget, Miss Nadima," said Annalaide cheekily. "I hope it will help guide you in your search." Then, the woman began hobbling back along the path, tapping her cane back and forth as she went.

The second Annalaide disappeared beyond the stone archway, Evolice sprinted back to the pagoda. "249," she called urgently.

"Yes, ma'am," said ID-249, flickering to life.

"Search the Halls of History. Can you find anything about the Old-Scholars?"

"Just a moment," said ID-249, "returning zero results for Old-Scholars, no— External queries show Old-Scholars is a common term used for the Ancient-Eredithian tribe. It would appear that one exhibit, "Arborals, fact or myth?" makes several references to Ancient-Eredithian culture."

"That's perfect," said Evolice, leaning eagerly over the table. "Where would I find it? Who's the presenter?"

"One moment," said ID-249, as Evolice's globe flickered, and a model of the convention center took its place. "See on the model, the Hall of History is located in the south wing." The westernmost room of the convention center lit up bright yellow. "The Hall of History is laid out to represent cultures through all of time. This walkway in the center is your timeline." A long stretch within the hall began to shine blue. "The Ancient-Eredithians were an early civilization, so you can find the exhibit near the hall entrance, on the left, among the cultures of the southern hemisphere, here." A small red square appeared. "Exhibitor name, Eamon Lovel."

"Eamon Lovel... got it. Thanks so much," said Evolice giddily. Her heart pounded as she set the ancient book on the wooden table. "Okay, okay, how long until lunch?"

"Social hour will commence in approximately fifteen minutes," reported ID-249.

"Fifteen minutes, I can wait fifteen minutes," she said. "Oh, and index, go ahead and change the name back to Proof of the Human Soul."

Evolice had a very difficult time waiting fifteen minutes. She paced restlessly, thinking of her encounter with Annalaide. Questions raced through her mind, one interrupting the next, but she did know one thing for certain, A.L. Martin must have been the second judge. That meant only one judge left. Evolice paced even more frantically, and when her feet began to hurt again, she propped herself against the table and flipped through the book. If just the smallest glimpse could knock her off balance, what else could this book contain? She examined the detail in the circling sketches; they were clearly drawn by hand, but all the strokes seemed connected, as if the whole page had been drawn in one long movement. Evolice leafed through page after page, then settled on one that looked smoother than the others. As she raised her hand to her necklace, Evolice stopped herself. She should be careful if she was going to try this alone. The last time, she'd nearly passed out.

Evolice unhooked her necklace; it was a very naked feeling. She only ever removed her necklace during showers and bed. She raised the chain to examine the gem closer. As she gazed into its cracked blue surface, she wondered to herself how a simple stone fit into all this. If the Old-Scholars recorded themselves onto these pages, why would the necklace let Evolice hear them, and why just her?

She laid the necklace on the table beside the notebook. With one hand, she touched the stone, while the other moved slowly towards the page. It was inches from the parchment, when the circles began to glow. It was faint at first, flickering so soft that Evolice would never have noticed if she weren't watching so intently. But the light grew stronger the closer her fingers came to the parchment, and it wasn't just the page. The stone's spindling cracks glowed with a pulsing blue light. In all the years Evolice had seen the light, it had only ever clung to letters, never the necklace. Her fingers were now a hair's breadth from the page, and the circles were blazing in a shifting rainbow of fiery light. With a sudden pulse, the light did what she would not. It leapt from the page and met her fingers, and with it came a voice. Evolice heard the same boy from before, only older.

"LET ME OUT! PLEASE, YOU HAVE TO LET ME OUT. THEY'RE GOING TO KILL THEM ALL IF YOU DON'T LET ME OUT. I CAN STOP IT. I CAN SAVE THEM IF YOU JUST LET ME OOOOUUUT! "

Evolice tore her hand from the page, stumbling backwards and landing hard on the wooden floor. She lay panting for a moment and then slowed her breathing, remembering where she was, remembering who she was.

She picked herself up, using the table for support. The circles on the book still glowed faintly, but quickly faded. Her necklace no longer shone either. Evolice knew she needed to be more careful, but she was fiercely curious now. Whoever this boy had been, something terrible had happened. All she could say for certain was that he must have survived, since the later pages were filled with his sketches. The fact her necklace had glowed was also puzzling. It had never done that before.

Evoliced grabbed the necklace by the chain and dangled the gem over the notebook. Pearlescent tongues of light erupted from the page and grasped towards the stone, drawn, like metal to a magnet. Evolice gazed in awe at the lightshow connecting the book to the stone, but she didn't dare come closer.

~Ring Ding Ding~

All chatter in the hall died instantly. Evolice pulled the necklace away from the book and the light connecting them faded. Refastening the chain around her neck, Evolice looked to her index display, which had changed. It now showed the figure of a man, scaled down to fit comfortably on the table. He had tidy grey hair and large glasses over his sagging eyes. His posture was nearly perfect, and he looked directly at Evolice, then began to speak.

"What a morning. What a start," said the miniature Dr. Hawberk. "I sincerely hope the knowledge spread here today will help shape a finer tomorrow. But... I think it is just about time we took a break to refresh, renew, and come into the afternoon ready to give your all. You'll need it too, because I have a very special announcement..."

He paused for a moment, wearing a knowing smirk.

"Our scholarships are some of the finest and most prestigious learning opportunities in all the world, but a Vision Scholar is more than a student. They are a representative of progress, and so we at the Board of Vision believed a new prize was in order, an even grander prize..."

Even from here, Evolice could hear gasps in the market.

"The prize, a chance to appear before the fabled council of Gau, is an opportunity no human alive today has ever been awarded. You, our Visionary, will represent progress between our species, an icon to be remembered throughout history. But, there is a catch. Of our four Vision Scholars, only one shall claim the honor. Tonight, at our closing ceremony, our finalists will argue their claim, and a winner shall be declared. I wish each and every one of you the best of luck."

"Returning now to the present... It is time we commenced social hour. During this time, you are free to do as you please. Continue to present, explore the halls, or refresh yourself at the cafeteria; it is your choice how you spend the hour. Only know that judges are prohibited from visiting until the hour ends. Additionally, the Circus Ivira will be providing entertainment in the courtyard. I hope you all use the opportunity to enjoy the talented company around you. You never know who you will meet in a gathering of such incredible minds."

The image of Dr. Hawberk faded, and Evolice's globe returned.

Evolice didn't waste a second. She needed to get to the Hall of History before Eamon left for lunch. Pausing a second over the notebook, Evolice decided that she better take it. She snatched it up and sprinted from the pagoda.

The ruins portion of the Hall of Language Arts was still relatively empty, as presenters gathered up their things in preparation for lunch. Evolice sprinted through the streets, and it wasn't until she reached the markets that she hit her first major roadblock. Boys and girls everywhere had abandoned their stalls and flooded the covered streets. It looked like many had made friends too, as presenters packed in around popular exhibits and wandered in large groups, further congesting the narrow market streets. Evolice moved as fast as she could through the crowd, pushing and shoving until she reached the exit. She tore down the passage, taking the stairs two at a time, and just managed to beat the traffic from the Hall of Technology.

Evolice soon reached the South Wing and darted down the passage to the Hall of History. A steady stream of students poured from the double doors. Determined as ever, Evolice charged headlong towards them, and, with a bit of effort, managed to squeeze herself in on one side.

The Hall of History felt like a museum. It was dimly lit by reddish-orange lamps hanging from the rafters far above. A wide and populous path led through the center of the hall, but the rows of glass displays on either side sat mostly abandoned.

Evolice ducked off down a vacant row to the left and caught her breath. Her feet were cursing her for all this running, and, by the looks of it, Eamon could have already left for lunch. As Evolice's heart rate slowed, she took stock of where she was. The displays around her housed wooden spears and tattered cloth outfits. They had names such as "Norvuki" and "Lao-Ru," both some of the earliest civilizations in Irasil. This was definitely the right time period.

Few exhibits still had presenters, and those that did appeared to be finishing conversations with guests. Evolice read each title as she passed, but none of them were the exhibit she was looking for. She wound up and down two empty rows, then, rounding a third bend, Evolice saw a single occupied exhibit. A boy around her age was speaking with a very tall robed man. They didn't look any different than the other stragglers, maybe a touch friendlier with each other, but Evolice had this feeling in her gut she couldn't shake. Though it had failed her once today, her gut was currently the best bet she had.

Approaching the pair, Evolice did her best to see if she could make out the name on the display. It was a smaller exhibit. The glass case rested on a table about waist height, and inside it was a mask. From this distance, Evolice couldn't make out any real detail.

"Thank you so much for coming, Mathas, I really didn't think you could make it," she heard the boy say.

"It is, of course, my pleasure to be here, Master Lovel," said the taller man, standing several feet over the boy. The name struck Evolice instantly.

"Eamon Lovel," she muttered under her breath. "It's him."

The robed man shook hands with the boy then turned to leave, passing right by Evolice. As he drew near, the enormous man stopped. His low hood shrouded much of his face, and a thick white beard covered everything Evolice could see.

"That is a very beautiful stone," he said simply, pointing a gloved hand at her necklace. He then continued down the row.

Evolice wondered a moment, could that compliment possibly be a coincidence? She almost turned around, when she remembered why she was there.

"Eamon Lovel?" she called to the boy and ran to his display. She could see the mask better now. It was old and carved from wood, with a great crack down the center and vines wrapped around the back. On the display were silver letters reading: Arborals, fact or myth?