With half the group gone, the two remaining students found themselves in silence. Seda’s head was still buried in her brother’s notebook, picking through the notes from the class, while Mellick contented himself with finishing off his meal. It was a silence, though not a particularly awkward one.

At least, until somebody new thought to break it.

“Hey!”

Seda started, looking up to reveal a spectacled face she only barely recognized. Larisa…Malekova? Was that right? The prefect of the South Tower. Seda’s prefect, in other words. They’d met, at least technically, but Seda figured she could be forgiven for not remembering new faces the last couple of weeks.

“Hey, Lari,” Mellick replied, raising a hand in greeting. “You here for lunch?”

“You know it,” Lari said, already sliding into a seat across from the pair. “How’s it going?”

“About the same as usual,” Mellick answered. “Classes and prefect duties keeping me busy, but you already knew that. I’m guessing it’s the same for you.”

“Yep.” Lari nodded in solemn understanding. “It’s an endless battle, really. Maintenance, discipline, study, introducing new students…Hey, speaking of.”

“How are you doing, Seda?”

Seda froze up, looking up from the notebook she’d been half-intentionally burying herself in. “...What?” She managed to ask.

“How are you doing?” Larisa repeated. “Finding everything okay? I know you’re a long way from home.”

Ah, yes. Larisa was given the cover story. Seda nodded meekly. “I’m…doing okay. Amelie and Mellick…help.” Not a lie, just a bit out of context.

“Good to hear.” Larisa smiled at Seda before turning to Mellick. “How do you two know each other, anyway?”

“Oh, her brother moved into the room next to mine,” Mellick explained, with an ease that made Seda suspect he had rehearsed this. “You actually just missed both him and Amelie.”

“Is that so?” Larisa’s face fell for a moment. “The room next to you was originally taken by the other Southlander, right? Ishmael, I think? I hope he’s doing okay.”

“Yeah. I hope so, too.” Seda thought she saw Mellick twitch uncomfortably. Not a fan of keeping the truth from his friend? She didn’t blame him. She wasn’t exactly a fan of it, either, but conditions were conditions.

Not that she had to worry about keeping secrets from friends right now. Right?

The two prefects went on for a bit, talking about dorm conditions or some other minutiae that interested Seda not in the slightest. She tuned them out, leafing through the notebook. In truth, there wasn’t much in the notebook; there had only been one lecture, after all. But it was a good excuse to think about other things.

Like the fact that she was, technically, lying to her friends. In all the chaos since the curse, she’d forgotten to bring up the voice she’d heard on the day of the curse to anybody else, not even Ikhan. At this point, she hesitated to bring it up. It was only two words, after all, and she knew precious little about it.

She was starting to think she’d imagined the whole thing. But she hadn’t imagined being split in two, right? Her thoughts turned again to the night neither she nor Ikhan could remember. The evening before the curse. Ikhan said they’d had a nightmare that night, but Seda couldn’t remember it. Something about it just tugged at her mind…

“Seda?”

Oh, she was spacing out again. That was always one of Ishmael’s bad habits. She looked up to see Lari and Mellick looking at her with concern. “...What?” She asked. “I was…reading.”

“We were thinking about going into town to grab some supplies,” Mellick explained. “Do you want to come along?”

Seda considered for a moment. On one hand, curling up in bed with a book sounded nice, but on the other hand, she did need to restock her room with meals and supplies and such. Amelie was remarkably bad at remembering to keep things stocked, which hadn’t mattered when it was just her, but now that they were both living in the same space it was getting harder to ignore.

So she nodded. “Sure.” At the very least, she’d sate her curiosity as to how these two well-put-together upperclassmen kept it together.

Lari smiled. “Great! Let’s go, then.”

She jumped out of her seat, or at least as well as one could manage leaping off a bench-and-table setup like this. Mellick stood up with a smile of his own, though he was decidedly more reserved than his friend.

Seda watched them both for a moment before realizing she was supposed to go with them. She stuffed Ikhan’s notebook in her bag, scrambling out of her own seat after the two upperclassmen. Hopefully she could keep up.

--

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Meanwhile, in the library, Ikhan was just getting to his own business. The archives of St. Myriak’s were world-famous for a reason. Even before the Zmeivan crusade, they’d taken up a large chunk of the inner keep. Now that the castle was a university, the collection had only grown, and continued to grow with each and every year.

Today the collection dwarfed even the most towering of men, and most Spirits besides. It took up almost the entirety of the inner keep, with the exception of the outer halls and the banquet room-turned-cafeteria.

Even the former throne room was part of the library, the image of the abandoned throne surrounded by books serving as a symbol of St. Myriak’s across the land. The message was always a wonderful one, Ikhan thought. Knowledge defeats tyranny. Even if it meant a little less coming from a city conquered by the Zmei.

Ikhan was here to continue his daily tradition, the exploration of the archives. In his first few months here, Ishmael had dug deep into the history of the Northlands, seeking to understand his new home and the people who lived here. It had given him a thorough grounding of the Northland nations, for certain, but nothing that had saved him from isolation.

Now, for obvious reasons, his goals had changed. But finding literature on the Accursed was harder than one would expect. The category was too specific to simply pick through random books, but the sheer number and variety of influential Accursed through history made it too broad to confine to a single section.

In other words, it was quickly turning into a true scavenger hunt.

Fortunately, Ikhan had encountered a fair amount of Accursed during his studies, hidden among the annals of the Northlands. Gottskalk Nikulasson, whose body and soul misaligned; Karla Lousdottir, whose words warped minds; Mira Valderin, who fought the Zmei to a standstill when Zmeiva was still young.

Of course, there were several living Accursed as well, most notably the three current Avatars of the Zmei. But was it better or worse to focus on the past? The transition into legend carried with it it’s own problems, but modern work was more likely to be propaganda. Decisions, decisions…

In the end, the choice was made by convenience. By force of habit, Ikhan’s steps had brought him closer to the history section than the modern section, so that’s where he would go first.

Finding a book on one of the Accursed was easy, if you already knew the names to look for. Using one of the yellowed sheets on the side of the bookcase, he quickly located a book on Gottskalk. It made sense; by distance, his was the tale closest to Myerigrad, at least by scholars’ reckoning.

He stepped into the cramped bookway, golden eyes scanning the shelves intently. Gottskalk, Gottskalk…ah. There. A book in red and gold, standing out amongst it’s drab neighbors. Ikhan reached out for it…

…Only to recoil, as another hand appeared in his peripheral vision.

“Ah!”

Startled, he stepped back a bit, suddenly realizing he wasn’t alone in the section. Unusual.

The man looking back at him seemed a few years older than Ikhan, dressed in a simple blue shirt and dark cloak. The hood was down, revealing light red hair and sparkling blue eyes that regarded Ikhan with a mix of apology and whimsy.

“Are you all right?” He asked, tilting his head slightly as he watched Ikhan. “You seem rather shocked.”

“I…” Ikhan took a deep breath. He’d talked to enough strangers these past two weeks, right? He could handle another. “I apologize. There’s not usually anybody else in this section.”

“Oh, is that all?” The red-haired man chuckled. “Not many people interested in half-myth retellings, I guess.” He arched and eyebrow. “Though, that makes us kindred spirits, wouldn’t it?”

“...I suppose so,” Ikhan replied. This man spoke a lot. A little upsetting, but probably for the best.

“Oh, where are my manners? I haven’t even introduced myself. Lorien Gauthrick.”

Lorien extended his other arm out from under the cloak in a handshake gesture, revealing that it wasn’t an arm at all. It looked remarkably lifelike, especially with magic animating it as it was, but the wooden prosthetic extended towards Ikhan was unmistakably not flesh. Still, Ikhan took it in a handshake cautiously.

“Ikhan Rahmet,” he muttered. Had to keep up the cover story. “Nice to meet you.”

“It’s a pleasure!” Lorien exclaimed, shaking Ikhan’s hand jovially. “I so love making friends. Especially the scholarly sort.”

Ikhan regarded his new ‘friend’ with trepidation for a moment before replying. “...So what are you looking for?”

“Me? So nice of you to take an interest!” Lorien smiled. Ikhan could practically see his grin sparkle. “I’m looking for inspiration, you could say.”

“Inspiration?”

“Yes, yes! Inspiration!” Lorien leaned in conspiratorially. “I’m a novelist, you see.”

“A novelist…” That was starting to ring some bells. Lorien’s name had seemed familiar to Ikhan since they’d met, and that was another piece in place. "Lorien Gauthrick" had certainly showed up on a book that Ikhan had seen. Which book, though? He was drawing a blank.

Instead, he nodded, trying to keep a neutral expression. “So you want inspiration from history?”

“Well, in part. I’m looking for both history and myth, you could say.” Lorien puffed his chest out proudly. “The ability to mix and match, to draw upon the real and the fake, is the hallmark of true literature! Wouldn’t you say?”

Okay, he was getting a little preachy. Ikhan frowned slightly despite himself. “You don’t have to lecture me.”

“Oh!” Lorien drew back, looking apologetic. “My apologies. I didn’t mean it that way at all. It’s just, when you find another fan of the written word, it’s hard not to feel a kinship, you know?”

Well, it was true that this was the first time Ikhan had ever heard somebody talk about literature as passionately as he felt about it. He nodded. “I understand. I think.”

“Good, good.” Lorien nodded, though it felt as though he was holding in another outburst. Instead, he turned back to the bookcase. “What are you looking for, Ikhan?”

Ikhan considered his response carefully. “For now, stories about the Northlands. Especially famous figures.”

That was close enough without giving enough away, right? Outright telling a new acquaintance that you were studying the Accursed might lead to suspicion, which was the last thing Ikhan needed right now.

“Then it sounds like we’re looking for the same thing!” Lorien grinned again. “What do you say we look together? Find ourselves a nice stack, then spend the afternoon digging through them?”

“Hmm…”

Ikhan’s forehead creased. Studying together had crossed his mind, especially now that Seda was around, but they’d agreed not to go to the library together for at least the start of their reintegration. Not to mention the whole buzzing thing. Still, having an extra pair of hands and eyes was tempting. But could he trust Lorien?

Ikhan’s throat throbbed, and defiance rose in the young man’s mind. Was it…mocking him? His own godsdamned body?

That was it.

“I’d like that.”

“Truly?” Lorien grinned. “We have a deal, then! Shall we get collecting?”

Ikhan nodded, and the two of them got to work.