Lynx, as always, was as easy to locate as sending out a request for him to turn up. Milaro, however, for once, was back home, actually managing his kingdom. It was the first time Quinn got frustrated by it.

  And yet, she understood the why.

  Quinn’s office had become the regular meeting spot. Lynx, Malakai, Aradie, and Eric gather therein. With both Hal and Milaro absent, it feels somewhat empty.

  “You seem troubled.” Lynx made the statement as if he knew it a foregone conclusion.

  Apparently, Quinn wasn’t as good at controlling her facial expressions as she’d thought. “Somewhat. I wanted to wait for Milaro, but we may just need to relay the information to him when he gets here later.” She could already feel the headache starting and knew she’d been overusing her focusing abilities lately. Something about gradually building up endurance in it, which, as usual, she paid no attention to.

  Diving headfirst into things wasn’t usually her style, but everything seemed so rushed, so imminent, so important since the moment she got there, that there really hasn’t been much downtime to getting herself acclimated properly to the new skills.

  Lynx was looking off into the distance again, his eyes flickering. Even if he wasn’t more aware now, his memories are returning, Quinn didn’t have the energy anymore to do silly things like balance books on his head. Maybe... once this was all over.

  “I just need to understand the beat underneath Ashiron. Or perhaps, within it?”

  “Beat?” Lynx cocked his head to one side. “What beat?”

  Malakai shrugged while Erik grumbled out a “No clue, I couldn’t hear anything over the waves of the mana lake.”

  “It’s low frequency, soft, almost like it’s asleep.” Quinn bit her lip as she tried to ascertain if she’d really been hearing it. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, centering herself so she could seek it out again. From this distance, it was even more difficult to differentiate. Just that soft blip in her radar, so to speak.

  “It’s very faint. Sounds like a heartbeat to me. I’ve only just begun to hear it now my abilities are settling and the power adjustments are evening out.” Quinn looked up at Lynx expectantly.

  He frowned while his eyes worked overtime. “I don’t believe it’s attached to the bomb...”

  “You can hear it too?” Quinn couldn’t believe how relieved she felt. For a while there, she was fairly certain it was in her head.

  “Faintly. And to do so, I pretty much just have to access the neighboring pillar. The vibrations are easier to perceive there.” Lynx blinked his eyes back from the connection. “I’ll look into it.”

  For a fraction of a second, Quinn hesitated and then squared her shoulders. “Do you think Harish could show me read outs and reports of areas where the Library has missing chunks? Not that I think I’m some amazing sleuth or anything, but I was wondering if a fresh perspective from someone of the only recently magical variety might offer a different viewpoint.”

  Lynx seemed puzzled more than anything else. “Of course he could do that. I mean, all the information in the Library is at your fingertips, or even just your brain tips?”

  Quinn actually chuckled because that didn’t sound anywhere near right, but she knew what he was aiming for. “Okay then. I’d like to go and...”

  But she didn’t get any further as the Library spoke into the room. I’d prefer to go over the memories that have been retrieved first.

  Quinn balked, not quite willing to believe that the Library had already retrieved said memories. Surely their luck didn’t quite hold out to that extent. Are you serious?

  Why wouldn’t I be serious?

  You’ve been known to have a sense of humor occasionally. It wasn’t exactly a lie. The Library had become more human than it was before Quinn arrived. It was noticeable too.

  In this case, however, I come bearing... odd news.

  Define Odd.

  There were a couple of long moments, so long in fact that Quinn contemplated double checking that the Library was still present. Except she could sense it just like she could sense so much more about everything now.

  Finally, the Library spoke. To be honest, it’s difficult to. I’ve continued to reach out to Drivok, but the waking process appears to be almost as slow, if not slower than Drukala’s. However, I’ve also managed to dig deep and trace those memories Dru has and I do not.

  “Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” Quinn said, starting to get frustrated.

  She could almost hear the Library raise an amused eyebrow. It has taken a while to access these memories. I think... I think it might be best if I just share them with you and Lynx at the same time.

  “Share them? Shouldn’t Lynx already have access?”

  Not to everything, especially not this sort of subject matter. But we are currently all in this together and we’re going to need to know it, anyway. The Library took in a few seconds before continuing. Let me know when you’re ready, but you should probably sit down.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Quinn wasted no time in clambering into her massive and comfortable chair and curling her legs up under her. It was probably inviting pins and needles once she was done, but for now she needed comfort and relaxation and that was about what she had here. She closed her eyes, pretty sure that experiencing a memory would be much like dreaming if her own memory recollection was anything to go by, took a deep breath, and spoke. “Ready.”

  The effect was almost instantaneous.

  Her body shifted into a wisp like substance that felt solid, weightless, and intangible. Yet she could maneuver, and there, she could see the faint human ghost like appearance of the Library when it took human form. Or humanoid form, perhaps?

  This appeared to be a run through of many memories, as if showing Quinn what a normal interaction was like as opposed to the altered one. Several flittered through. From when the Library was fresh, and much smaller. With maybe a few hundred books. Drukala roamed around with Drevicia, marvelling at the way the doors worked. At being able to open them and gaze upon different terrains and other worlds. Of dreaming about how far-reaching this healing could be, and just how great it could be for the universe.

  Quinn’s own shade just watched.

  The next memory was a visit, just by Drukala with none of the others in sight. reminiscing, talking, meeting another Librarian of a species Quinn’s brain couldn’t even comprehend. They flashed through more visits, more time passed as the Library grew in size, as branches opened, as the filtration system cavern expanded. Librarians changed constantly. Lynx was ever present.

  Owls flew back and forth, all around, their feathers gleaming. The bookworms glowed in their encasements, and it felt like the affinities were alive in every single corner of the building. Quinn wanted to return it to that level of glory. But to do so, she had to fix Ashiron, and he was getting more and more sure that might not even be possible.

  Still, she clung to some hope.

  The golems scattered throughout were similar and yet not the same, and the halls flourished, with hundreds and maybe thousands of people visiting at once. And that was just milling around the front entrance, which seemed ten times larger than it was now.

  It was larger before I broke

  There was a wistfulness in that tone, a rotting sadness that permeated all other sensations.

  Quinn pushed back her anger at those who damaged the Library. Their agenda ruined such a great thing for so many, and out of pure selfishness. Quinn wanted to understand their motivations. She wanted to know how to change their minds. But no matter how she looked at it, there was nothing for it.

  And finally, Korradine began to cross their path.

  Drukala was there what appeared to be shortly after the new Librarian was integrated into the system.

  Korradine’s voice had a strangely melodic quality to it. Not unlike a lullaby with a discordant beat. Quinn could tell, and perhaps it was because she was looking for something to be off, that every single word out of her mouth was close to or completely a lie.

  “I was checking on the restricted vault.” Her eye was huge in her face, and her skin shone so brightly she practically sparkled.

  And yet, Quinn could have sworn there was a fuzzy dark outline to be seen around her, even in this memory.

  Next, Drukala visited some vast amount of time later if the state of the Library was anything to go by. Several thousand years, perhaps. Not that it changed much, but it appeared the Library liked to do some redecorating every so often. Subtle changes like colors, book spines, and shelves. The intricate carved work on the pillars also appeared to be changed semi-regularly. Quinn wondered if it still did that, or if it was a full power sort of frivolity.

  Perhaps it was the crystal clarity with which all the other memories had appeared that made it so obvious to Quinn which one had been tampered with. There was a haze around it as it began, a sort of static interference, and the words were difficult to understand. Korradine and the shade of the Library were in the restricted vault, all on their own. It made Quinn want a lip reading 101 book to absorb. She’d have to check on that later.

  She had to pause and motion for the replay of the start of it because she’d missed what it was Korradine said.

  Her face was twisted in a sneer, the skin around her eye drawn and strained. “Where is the book?”

  The Library pulsated around in the vision, like it was affronted by the tone. Quinn could feel the connection between the two was tenuous at best. Strained at worst, and to a certain degree practically forced. “Which book?” It managed to grind out.

  “The Parsneauvian book!” Korradine snapped. “Don’t play with me. You know what book I mean, don’t make me repeat myself constantly.”

  “Why would you want that book? It’s in my vault.” The Library was livelier now, more alert, more aware, even though it still appeared that Drevicia had pulled herself out of a pretty almost comatose state. It seemed to be wavering in that consciousness now it had spoken up, as if the drain of all the energy it took to be alert for a moment was all it had.

  “I need access to that vault.”

  “You’re not getting it.” The words were so clipped, so deep, and so commanding, that Quinn almost didn’t believe it was the Library. But then she remembered when the Library sometimes snapped and ordered her to sleep or eat... Quinn generally obeyed.

  Not the case for Korradine. She looked like she’d been slapped, and backed away a few steps, but then her eyes narrowed and she moved forward again, a sneer tilting her mouth into an unattractive snarl. “You’ll regret that.”

  A console appeared in front of her, all static and lines, and barely discernable to Quinn, but she could see it beneath the lines, figure it out. The scene kept tugging her deeper.

  “You’ll regret it oh so much.”

  That tone made Quinn’s skin crawl, like something had wiggled under her skin and set up a nest. She shuddered.

  Sadly, Korradine continued. “Tell me where the book is. Tell me where you put it.”

  “No! This is not...” The Library sounded indignant, irritated, and perhaps even a little bewildered at not being able to get the words it obviously wanted to out.

  Quinn could sense as the energy rippled through the memory, adjusting and adapting things, pulling away from the sides like an old polaroid being burned. But there, right in the heart of the picture, there was a truth.

  Something ripped. As if the photo had been torn apart, one side peeled from the other to reveal the Library’s memories.

  A thud echoed through the entire structure and all around where they stood in the restricted section.

  “Ah.” Korradines’ voice was cold. “Damn it. This was days ago. Weeks even.”

  Something about her countenance tugged at Quinn. A memory of being scared, of feeling like everything had been pulled out from under her. It reflected in Korradine’s eyes in myriad ways.

  “Damn it.” she muttered again. “I planned everything so carefully. Why did you have to go and ruin it?”

  A tug tore at Quinn’s consciousness, just for a split second, bringing a sting of pain as the memory tore and dissipated.

  It left her panting there in the office with way more questions than they’d started with.