As Oz set off into the library, the shallow dish of mercury caught his eye. He paused, backtracking to it until he caught sight of himself in its reflection.

A smooth-chinned face stared back at him, about the fifteen years old he’d guessed himself to be, maybe as old as sixteen or seventeen, but not eighteen. Reasonably handsome, though a bit wan in the face, he had the kind of dark blue eyes that poets might describe as depthless wells of sapphire, and those less poetically inclined would be more likely to call tired. At first glance, the left one looked darker than the right, but when he tilted his head, he couldn’t be sure if it was light, or an actual color difference. High cheekbones gave his face an aristocratic bent. Dark brown hair fell in natural waves around his face, the tail end drawn into a short, low ponytail.

He touched his hair, making a face at his reflection.

Better looks this time around. I remember being pretty middling last time, nothing worth writing home about. Thanks, Ossian.

I guess long hair is in for men here. Roan even had a braid, and that guy leading the crowd had a right mane of hair. When in Rome, and all that.

He peeked around the mercury, a sneaking suspicion wriggling through his mind. That isn’t actually mercury, is it? It definitely needs far more health precautions if it is. While I’m looking for food, I’ll look for a hood for that, too. Just in case.

Turning away from the mercury, Oz checked his stack of books. Done with the first three. Let’s leave them behind. Setting them at the foot of the desk, he re-entered the stacks, Sid at his side.

Time passed. Oz retraced his steps, half-focused on the map, half-focused on the book in his hand. With a decisive snap, he closed the book, put it on the bottom of the pile, and added a few notes to his leaf-page map. Four books down, and I’m back where I stopped last time.

He stood before the dormitory doors. Behind him, the maze of shelves wound away. Ahead, three options awaited him. Straight ahead, the path twisted away into the library again. To the left, a path walked along the wall, a straight shot all the way to the corner. To the right, an opening cut straight through the center of the stacks.

He put a hand on his chin, then decisively chose the path along the wall. Doors are on the wall. What can I say? It’s worked out for me so far.

BOOM!

Again, the library rattled. The books barely jumped this time, settled firmly on the shelves after getting replaced twice by the book-replacing spells. Opening his fifth book, Oz set off along the wall, humming quietly to himself.

Breathing again. I’m starting to get an idea on how these all merge together into one. Although every book has had a different take on what to do after breathing in magic, the basic step is the same. The more I read, the more I start to see similarities between the techniques after breathing, but… they’re still too diverse, right now, for me to decisively take that next step.

The breathing alone, on the other hand, I’ve got a pretty good handle on, even five books in. Tonight, after I find food and investigate the barrier, I’m going to settle in and figure out how to absorb qi.

Ossian couldn’t figure it out for fifteen years. How hard can it be?

Oz chuckled to himself, shaking his head. I’ll figure it out. Probably.

It sounded like Madame Saoirse figured something out just before she ascended. As if this task she gave Ossian wasn’t an ordinary teaching, but the handing-down of her life’s work.

I still don’t get that. Why hand off her life’s work to the guy everyone agrees is her most useless disciple?

It’ll have to be one of life’s great mysteries. If I ever see her, I’ll be sure to ask.

Wandering along, he passed three doors by, checking each as he went. One led to a cluttered store room, full of strange bits and bobs, extra furniture and half-built shelves. He took a large glass dish topper from there to cover the mercury with, and kept moving.

He came across the next one a few hours later, sticking along the wall as he walked. The door opened to a wall of snow. From bottom to top, nothing but snow, the door’s shape pressed into it. Curious, he extended a hand. Icy cold enveloped it almost instantly, his fingers going pure white as blood fled. He retracted his hand, hissing in pain. No good. Whatever that is, I should stay far away from it.

More time passed. He walked the entirety of the outside of the library and started working his way through the center, picking routes at random but always marking his route on the map. At long last, he came to a third door. Holding his breath, he pushed it open.

A kitchen laid before him. Cabinets hung over countertops in a familiar layout, with a large sink in the middle. In the back, a dark space full of irregular objects hinted at a pantry.

Oz sighed. Thank goodness. I won’t have to hunt or starve. As a twenty-first century man used to food delivery and city living, I’m not very good at the whole hunting business. I could probably figure out how to fish, but I grew up in the city. There wasn’t a lot of fishing to be had. It would be trial and error, with my life on the line.

Yes, let’s cross that bridge when we reach it. First! The kitchen.

Like the dormitories, the kitchen lit up with sourceless light as he stepped inside. Broad granite countertops spread before him. Small stone mortar bowls piled in the corner, a set of pestles beside them, while wooden bowls sat half-abandoned here and there on the countertop. A large stove dominated the back half of the room. Miniature ovens lurked amidst the bowls, potbellied beasts with a tray slung beneath to burn fuel on.

Oz furrowed his brows. Did the students make their own food individually…? Why are the ovens so small?

Passing the miniature ovens for the moment, he headed toward the pantry in the rear. Behind a glass panel, herbs of every description laid out in every imaginable variety. Dried herbs, fresh herbs, flowers and leaves, seed pods and beans, all of them crowded the shelves, carefully placed in neat piles.

He opened the panel and scanned up and down, nodding to himself. Yep, those are herbs. And herbs. And more herbs.

I’ve found the spice cabinet. That’s a good start! Now I just need to find the actual pantry.

Oz circled the kitchen. He crouched, looking in the cabinets, and stood on his tiptoes, peering into the cabinets overhead. Nothing. Nope. Nada.

Standing back at the door, having completed a lap of the entire kitchen, Oz put his hand on his chin and squinted. Is it kitchen for spices only? A spice kitchen? That’s not a thing, is it? Or do spice kitchens exist in this world? I know they didn’t exist in my world… at least, not that I’m aware of.

I’ve really got to read those general-purpose-knowledge books.

After I find food and figure out the barrier, they’re next up. I don’t want to read them and walk. They seem drier than the magic books, and I won’t pay enough attention to the material if I walk around reading them.

He crossed his arms. Madame Saoirse thought it might take me years to accomplish the first steps of learning magic. There’s no way she locked me in here with no food.

…Unless food is something abandoned so early that she totally forgot I’d need it.

Oz pressed his lips together. Why does that sound likely?

No. There must be something. I just haven’t found it yet.

He looped around the kitchen again, peering in all the cabinets. In the back of one of the tallest cabinets, tucked way back in the corner, he found a dusty bottle of brownish, round pills. A paper label dangled from the neck of the bottle with the words Fasting Pills written on it in delicate cursive. Beneath it, in smaller font, the cursive added, Take 1x/day.

Fasting pills? Can I eat these? Am I supposed to eat these? Based off my world, something you eat while fasting to help you fast would be equivalent to weight-loss meal replacement bars, right? So maybe that’s what these are.

On the other hand, old-timey medicines were, uh, less than ideal. Lead, mercury, cinnabar, belladonna… name the poison, and it’s in there.

Oz eyed the pills, then shrugged. If I just take one, I should survive. Old timey medicines weren’t great, but they wouldn’t straight-up kill you, either. The human body is good at filtering toxins.

Besides, this is a world that has magic. These are probably magic pills, not toxic.

I’ll give it a shot and see what happens.

He tipped one out into his hand and tossed it back experimentally. A bitter flavor spread thickly over his tongue. Grimacing, he swallowed.

Instantly, his stomach felt sated, almost over-full. Oz made a face. Still tasting the bitterness, he stumbled over to the sink. Where he’d expect a set of knobs, a crystal greeted him instead. With no idea what else to do, he tapped the crystal.

Water poured out from the faucet. He risked running a hand under the stream, then snatched it back. It came back intact. Good. It isn’t hot. Cupping his hands, he gulped down handfuls of water to wash away the flavor of the pill.

At last, the bitter flavor faded. Sticking his tongue out, Oz pushed away from the sink. Bleh. They taste nasty, but they do fill my stomach. I’ll treat them as emergency food for now.

He put the bottle of pills in his pocket, filled a bottle with water, put that in his other pocket, and left, leaving the spice kitchen behind, though not before labeling it on his map and adding the annotation of food and water.

Alright, well, spices aren’t much food, but it’s a start. Between the fasting pills and the sink, I won’t starve or thirst to death, at least.

Overhead, something thumped heavily on the floor.

Oz ducked, expecting the tower to shake, but nothing of the sort happened. He furrowed his brows and peered over him. That wasn’t a hit from outside. That was something inside the library.

A shiver crawled up his spine. Oz eyed the map, searching for the closest point upstairs. Finding it hundreds of meters behind him, he breathed out. I can’t even enter the second floor. If something’s moving around up there, I can only assume it’s way more powerful than I am. Nothing I want to run into.

Softness curled around his leg. Sid trilled, flicking her tail toward him.

He glanced down, then frowned. “Hey, you. Those patterns, are they different?” I could have sworn she had a brown patch on her face, but now it’s almost tuxedo-patterned. She’s still a calico, but…

Sid looked up at him and meowed.

Kneeling, Oz ran his hand down her back. She rubbed up against him and purred, happy for the attention. I’m pretty sure this is the same cat. She’s been following me this whole time. But maybe there’s lots of cats in the library. Maybe what I heard overhead is another cat. It’d be the simplest explanation.

Parting his robes, he grabbed the end of his tunic and tore a strip off, then loosely tied it into a bow around Sid’s neck. There. Now I’ll know for sure.

Sid flicked her ears. She pawed at the collar a few times. Unable to push it off with the least modicum of effort, she shook her head and ignored it, walking off instead.

“Sorry about that. I just need to see if you’re a magic cat,” Oz explained to her back.

Sid flicked her tail.

“Need to see if you’re a magic cat,” Oz repeated mockingly to himself. He shook his head. “And I’m talking to a cat. I need human interaction.”

As if on cue, a sharp knock echoed down the hall. Oz perked up, then ran toward it, turning the corner to find himself back in the lobby. Pausing just a moment to finish that route on the map and put the glass cloche atop the mercury dish, he jogged to the door. A second knock rang out as he crossed by the place the sheet had absorbed the bloodstain. No stain remained, but he couldn’t help but glance at it as he passed.

It’s gone, right? Has to be. Ugh. I wish I had a mop. Out, damned spot!

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

He listened at the door for a moment. When he heard none of the hubbub of a mob, he cracked the door open and peered out.

The street outside stood mostly empty. A few villagers rushed here and there, stepping around the remnants of the mob, bits of paper and dropped items lying here and there amidst the cobbles. Overhead, the beginnings of a gorgeous sunset bloomed high in the sky, tracings of pink filigree fading in through the blue.

A single man in purple robes stood before him, a friendly expression on his face. He wore his slick blonde hair in a tight braid, pulling the hair back from his forehead. Catching sight of Oz, the man smiled and gave a little wave.

Oz let out a breath. Phew. They’ve gone. Opening the door a little more, he slipped outside, careful to stay within the flexible membrane of the barrier. “Hello there.”

“Hello! I take it you’re Ossian Vestal? Lif Lifsson, at your service,” the man introduced himself, dipping into a little bow.

“Oz, please, just Oz. Good to meet you, Lif. You’re a welcome change.”

“After the mob this morning? I can imagine! Ha, those Sun Cult fools. They have no idea how to approach a fellow mage. All hot-headed and straightforward, without any thought put into it.” Lif shook his head disappointedly.

“Sun Cult? I thought they were the Sunheart Sect,” Oz asked.

Lif waved his hand. “But everyone calls them the Sun Cult. It’s easier to remember. Besides, they’re practically a clan, if not a cult. Since when have you heard of someone who wasn’t a direct descendant of the Daggarty noble family entering their sect? Putting aside Roan, of course, but—” Lif glanced at Oz and flinched. “Ah, that might be a sore memory for you. My apologies.”

Interesting. Apparently Roan is an impressively talented disciple. All the stranger that Master kicked him out. Smiling at Lif, Oz nodded. “Lif, you must have come here for a reason. If there’s one thing I’ve learned since Master’s death, it’s that mages don’t put much stock into friendly visits.”

Lif waved his hand. “What do you mean? I’m simply here to greet the new Master of the Grand Magus Library, as anyone in their right mind ought to. Ah, that’s right!” He reached into his pocket and held out a package wrapped in brown paper and twine. “A welcoming gift.”

Oz looked at the package. On instinct, he half-reached for it, only to snatch his hand back. Nah. Better not to accept gifts from strange men. For all I know, that lets him teleport to it, and I’m basically inviting him in. Or, hell, maybe me reaching out to take it exposes me enough for some kind of coercion or mind control spell. Or maybe the gift has a mind-control enchantment…

I have no protection against magic, and no idea what the limits of this world’s magic are. I’ve only read a few entry-level books. So far, it’s mostly been breathing and a few martial techniques, maybe a fireball or two, but there’s hundreds of thousands of books in the library. I’m not going to underestimate magic.

He adjusted the swing of his hand, casually adjusting his bangs instead. “Oh, no thank you. I have plenty in here.”

Lif smiled. “I understand. You’re suspicious, right? Everyone wants your library. It’s only natural. Here, here. Look. Let me show you.” He undid the twine and carefully unwrapped the package.

Oz watched, arms crossed, a suspicious look on his face. Internally, he scowled. Er, I don’t know how to say this, but it really doesn’t matter what you show me. I don’t know how magic works in this world. I wouldn’t know how to evaluate whether something’s suspicious or not.

“This little amulet here is exactly what an aspiring young mage in a persnickety situation like yourself needs.” Lif lifted the last fold of the paper, revealing creamy white tissue paper inside. A gold amulet laid out on the tissue paper, its surface cast in a delicate web of strands and symbols.

Humming, Oz looked it up and down, careful not to cross the barrier. Yeah, as I thought. I have no idea where to start with this.

Lif watched Oz’s face expectantly, a smile on his. After a beat, his smile faded. “You don’t recognize this?”

“Ah… that is, I’ve been busy,” Oz excused himself quickly. Should people from this world recognize this on sight? Sorry, but I’m not from this world! I can’t help you!

Giving him a last uncertain glance, Lif waved his hand dismissively. “No, no. It’s a rather unique artifact, yes. If you hadn’t spent your entire childhood studying magic, you might not recognize it.”

Oz smiled politely, dying inside. Yes, yes, thank you for the backhanded insult. There’s nothing I can do about that! I spent my childhood studying the physics of my world, okay? Ossian might have spent his childhood studying magic, but he took all that with him, wherever he ran off to. Don’t blame me for that.

Lif picked it off the paper and turned it over in his hand, showing Oz how it caught the light. Oz caught a glimpse of a name inscribed on its back before Lif flipped it over again, but it passed too fast for him to read it. Dangling the amulet, Lif pointed out the symbols on the surface one at a time. He leaned in close, conspiratorially. “Stealth. Shadow. Disguise. Transformation. Together, what does that make?”

“A… disguise pendant?” Oz guessed.

Lif pointed at Oz, beaming. “There you have it. A disguise pendant.”

Oz pursed his lips. Despite everything, I’m actually tempted by this. I would like to leave the library, but obviously I can’t, with everyone after my head. With a disguise, I’d have a chance.

Of course, I’m not stupid enough to take it. First off, a suspicious magical artifact I don’t know about from a stranger? Might as well drive a panel van around with “Free Candy” on the side. Plus, there’s the obvious issue of it being a disguise pendant, not a protection pendant. Chances are I’d get shot the second I stepped outside.

He shook his head, lifting his hand to refuse the pendant. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m afraid I can’t accept such a generous gift when I have nothing to give in return.”

“No, no. Consider it a greeting to the library’s new master.”

Firmly, Oz shook his head. “I can’t accept. Not until I can open the library properly, and invite you inside.”

“You can invite me inside. What are you afraid of? Little old me?” Lif laughed, shaking his head. “My boy, I’m barely even a mage. I’m no harm.”

You’re the one who brought up being afraid. I wonder if that’s because I should fear you? Oz shrugged. “It’s not that I’m afraid, but… the library is a mess. I would hate to show it to a guest in this condition.”

“Ah, of course. My apologies. Now that you’re running this library alone, of course you’d have more duties to attend to. I was thoughtless.” Lif folded his pendant up into the paper once more. “I’ll come back at a better time.”

“I hope I can welcome you in then,” Oz said, smiling emptily. He shut the door as Lif turned away.

Facing the closed door, Oz tilted his head thoughtfully. Although I was kind of sarcastic there, I do actually mean it. I don’t want to stay cooped up in here alone forever. I want to open the library to everyone, let people come in and… I don’t know if I can let them borrow books, but at least sit inside and read. Books might be too valuable to allow borrowing, unfortunately. Still, I’d love to open this library to the public, eventually.

That day might be far off, but I’ll work towards it for as long as this library remains in my possession. A library should be full of life. A hub. The beating heart of the town. Not…

He turned, looking around him at the vast, empty space. Utter silence pressed down on him, so heavy his breathing whooshed loud in his ears. The knickknacks on the table sat completely still. His books piled beside the desk, but all the other books sat neatly on the shelf. Untouched. Unused. Unloved.

Oz sighed. He shook his head.

Not this.

Trilling, Sid appeared around the desk, still sporting the black ribbon around her neck. She looked up at Oz, flicking her tail.

Oz knelt and scratched the cat under her chin. She flicked her tail again, closing her big blue eyes.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve got a long way to go.” He looked at the books on the desk. Walking over, he picked up the top one. Genealogy.

Let’s find out who’s who. Cracking open the book, he leafed through, skimming it at top speed. Images of family trees, each one annotated in fine letters, passed by. At the sight of a sea of yellow, he paused.

Daggarty.

A familiar face stared out at him from the bottom of the tree, recognizable even through the poorly drawn art: the man with dark hair who’d led the mob earlier that day. He squinted. Cecil Daggarty. There he is. Looks like he’s a female-line descendant of the main family, and from his place on the tree, he’s a relatively distant branch.

I guess it’s good that I’m only being hassled by the lower-ranked members of the Sun Cult? They sound powerful… more powerful than me, anyways. That whole ‘most powerful sect in the country’ line might be a bluff, but it might not. I shouldn’t piss them off more than I already have.

He kept flipping, searching on.

A big green moth landed on the page. Casually, Oz shooed it away. As it took to the air, Sid’s pupils broadened. She leaped after it, chasing it across the lobby.

At a page dyed in purple, he paused again. Stylized text at the top wound with ash branches and ash leaves spelled out Ashen Sect. This tree split into dozens of branches, most not connected at all. He raised his brows. Huh. Are sects more important than family around here? The mages are organized by sect instead of blood, after all.

A younger Lif Lifsson beamed at him from the upper half of the page, though given that the ‘tree’ was more a forest, Oz couldn’t determine much from his placement. Instead of begat or fathered or mothered, the word disciple connected Lif and the woman above him, an older lady with fading red hair pulled into a braided bun and watery blue eyes. At the bottom of the page, a blue-inked note read, Refugees from the Demon War in the Northern Wastes.

He hummed. I now know Lif Lifsson is a member of the Ashen Sect, but I still have no idea what that means. I have no context for the Ashen Sect’s location in the sect hierarchy, either in this country or in this city. From the way he was sucking up to me, I can guess that he doesn’t possess much power amongst the sects, but that might have more to do with his position in the sect than his sect’s power. At the very least, the Ashen Sect is lowly enough that a relatively high-ranking member is willing to seek favor with me, the undeserving inheritor of the library, so they likely aren’t powerful enough to expect to be able to demand fealty, the way the Sunheart Sect behaved.

What about Roan, or that girl? Aisling. The one who wanted the Five Fist Progression. He flipped through the rest of the book, breezing through the faces. In no time, he reached the book’s end. Oz twisted his lips. No luck.

Does that mean Roan and Aisling are too low-ranked to be put in the genealogy? Or maybe they’re too young. The book is old, after all. It’s current as of whenever it got published, however many years ago, not current as of today.

His brows furrowed. He flipped back through. No Madame Saoirse, either, nor Ossian Vestal. Is it really old, or was she left out? If she was left out, perhaps her entire…clan? sect? was left out.

If the book is older than Madame Saoirse, why is Lif in there? Sure, he was younger in the picture, but he didn’t look much older than Madame Saoirse. Then again, Madame Saoirse did mention extended lifespans…

So many questions.

He shut the genealogy and set it aside. Looking at his pile of general-knowledge books, he shook his head. I’ve got to reorganize this place. Everything is scattered everywhere. There’s no thought put into which book goes where. It isn’t going to function well as a library like that, especially when so many of the books lack labels.

So much work.

Oz sighed, gazing into the middle distance. A moment later, he blinked and moved on, leaving the general-knowledge books behind to fiddle with the manuals.

But first, let’s try and sense magic. Now that it’s growing dark outside, everyone should be settling in, so I shouldn’t be disturbed, and I’ve read enough basic manuals that I think I have a handle on breathing. I want to take the first steps toward magic. I got reborn in another world with magic, for goodness’ sakes! Things might be hectic, but even so!

Besides, I need to be able to sense magic. I can read all the manuals in the world, but until I have a taste of practical magic, I’m not going to have a point of reference for the manuals. At the end of the day, I still need to know what I’m working with, in order to have a proper frame for comprehending magic.

He opened all the books he’d read to the first few pages and laid them out on the floor around him. Some included diagrams, while some only held text. The general content remained the same regardless of the medium. A figure, sitting with legs crossed, breathing slowly. Magic flew in through their mouth and swirled around in their core, circulating in pace with their breath.

Sitting in the center of the books, Oz crossed his legs and sat upright. He took a deep breath. The scent of dust and old books filled his lungs.

Ah… how wonderful. His eyes shut on their own as he savored the scent, breathing out evenly. That familiar musty old book smell. Old leather, parchment, paper, ink. It sets the heart at ease.

Oz relaxed, sighing. A second later, he startled awake. Right, right. Focus on sensing magic, not smelling old book smell.

Old book smell, though…

Shaking his head again, he forced himself to focus. Magic. Focus on magic.

But what does magic feel like?

Breathing, he sat there, hands on his knees, waiting. His heart beat loud in his ears, the air whooshing in and out of his lungs. Soft fur brushed against his face as Sid stepped onto his knee, sniffing curiously at him. He ignored her, refusing to move. Magic… focus on magic…

Seeing him not moving, Sid climbed up into his lap and, with a loud yawn, settled in to sleep.

Time passed. Oz sat alone in the quiet library, surrounded by books, focusing on nothing but the silence and his breathing. A cat snoozed in his lap. Outside, the sun set, washing the world in darkness. The ever-so-faint sound of the world outside faded to nothing.

He waited. His head bobbed. Sleep threatened. Shaking his head, he focused internally as the books decreed. Come on. I stayed up later than this on the internet all the time. Stay awake. Magic. It’s for magic! Do it for magic!

Oz jolted awake. The lights had dimmed around him, and now simmered at a low burn. Misty golden twilight lit the space. Startled by his jolt, Sid looked up at him from his lap and purred, tipping her head in hopes of pets.

Petting the cat, Oz yawned. I can’t be too surprised. When I tried out work’s yoga classes back in my first life, I napped through the meditation section in those, too. I’m not suited for meditation.

That’s going to make magic difficult for me, huh?

He reached out at random and drew one of the books closer. Maybe there’s a hint. Or, you know, a hint somewhere in the library. There’s plenty of beginning manuals in here.

Scritching the cat behind the ears with one hand, he lifted the book in the other and began to read. A mote of light peeled off from the ceiling and hovered behind him, casting just enough light to read the manual.

As he read, the world faded around him. Nothing remained but him and the book, the world expanding between his ears as the words unfolded in his mind, the simple figures lighting up before his eyes.

Without him realizing, his breathing became even. His muscles loosened, and his bones aligned.

A strand of blue light appeared suddenly, circulating into and out of his lungs too quickly for him to grasp it.

Confused, he paused and looked around. No blue light.

“Huh.” Lifting the book again, he read on.

Blue light again. This time, he was ready for it. as if ambushing it, he grasped it in his mind’s eye and spun it around, sending it in a loop inside his lungs rather than letting it escape. From my chest… to my stomach, where my magic core is. Another deep breath. He visualized the light moving through him, passing through his body to just above his belly button. As if drawn by magnets, the strand of blue flowed there. A small, dark, round space appeared in his mind. The single strand of blue light spun inside. As it spun, a bundle of colorless threads lit up in sympathy and began circulating as well.

What is that? I already had some magic? Or maybe Ossian did? Puzzled, Oz furrowed his brows, then shrugged. I might as well continue. It can’t hurt to absorb more magic. He settled in to meditate.

Nothing happened. No more blue light appeared.

Oz frowned. He looked around him. His eyes landed on the books.

“Couldn’t be.” Nonetheless, he picked up a book.

Again, he instinctively settled into place. His breathing evened, his body aligned. Once more, a blue thread materialized inside him.

Oz pursed his lips at himself, slightly frustrated. Can I only gather magic while I read? It’s not a serious setback, since I’d have to meditate anyways, but…

He sighed, shaking his head at himself. But… what can I say? Somehow, it’s incredibly on brand, isn’t it? A reader, reincarnated in a library, who can only power up while reading. What next? Are the books going to come to life and attack?

Oz cast the shelves around him a wary glance, but nothing moved. After a moment, he laughed aloud. Don’t be stupid. They’re just boo—

THUMP.

Jumping, Oz stared around, eyes wide. Sid jumped out of his lap and ran off, vanishing into the stacks.

Suddenly all alone, a terrible sense of exposure fell over Oz. Twilit corridors stretched off in all directions, fading into deep darkness. The ceiling stretched to infinity overhead. Distantly, a rustling sound whispered in his ears.

A chill ran down his spine, even though he knew he was alone. You know what? I think that’s enough magic for tonight. Time for me to go to bed.

He peeked left and right, seeing nothing in the foggy mid-dark, then grabbed his map and scurried off to his bedroom.