The sword hovered inches from Oz’s nose. Sunlight gleamed off bared steel, inscribed gold patterns glittering brilliantly. An armored hand led to an armored arm, all the way up to a shining steel helm. Dark eyes glared down at him.

“Hand over the demon. Now.”

Instinctively, Oz put his hands up, then lowered them. He crossed his arms instead, staring down the man. “Make me.”

Are you going to single-handedly break down this barrier that no mage in the city has been able to destroy, the barrier that’s been bombarded with spells big enough to destroy city blocks? If you, alone, could break this barrier, you would have done it long ago.

The man’s jaw tightened. He drew back the sword.

Oz examined his nails, waiting. As the man slashed toward him, he casually checked the other members of the group. A woman wore a deep hooded cloak, her face mostly hidden, generous curves defining the cloak’s shape, a whip clasped to her hip. Beside her, a slender woman in lightweight martial mage robes crossed her arms, razor-sharp brows furrowed. Hanging in the back, a reedy looking man with straw-like hair cringed, clasping a tome to his chest. Voluminous robes hung loosely around his bony frame.

Attached to each person’s chest, a small bronze badge of a severed claw hung, a rectangular red ribbon dangling down from the badge.

Oz’s eyes blurred as he consulted the knowledge in his mind. Severed claw, red ribbon, hate demons… Out of the speeding books, one book flipped open. Two large words appeared at the top of the page, painted in ornate script. Severance Sect.

He delved deeper, reading down the page. Beast-hunters, demon-slayers, fey-killers. Aligned with the Church of the Sun, a religion that stringently rejects all non-human races, to the point that they even reject the usage of demon-, fey-, or beast-based components in medicine. Devout followers will refuse medicine with beast components, even if that medicine would save their lives. The Severance Sect is made up primarily of believers, and while not officially a part of the church, will at times carry out the will of the Church of the Sun.

Oz paused. A little distracted, he dove into the knowledge again. Is the Church of the Sun associated with the Sun Cult? That is, the Sunheart Sect.

A book flipped open. The Sunheart Sect, despite its name, has no official association with the Church of the Sun. However, the Sunheart Sect’s founder was the brother of the Church of the Sun’s Founder-Saint. While the Founder-Saint remained mortal and has since passed on, the Sunheart Sect’s founder is largely believed to still survive.

Putting a hand on his chin, Oz nodded. Huh. Interesting. Pretty deeply intertwined, huh?

Linnea pursed her lips, looking between Oz, lost in a daydream, and the screaming, grunting man slashing viciously at the barrier. She shook her head. I don’t know who’s being more ridiculous right now.

The slender woman reached out and caught the swordsman’s blade between her two fingers. He jolted to a stop, all his muscles tensing, veins bursting. Despite his struggle, the woman showed no difficulty in pinching his blade. “Stop making a fool of yourself, Hector.”

Oz raised his brows, looking over the woman. He stood silently, waiting. She’s powerful, which means she’s probably important. I wonder if she’s listed somewhere? I could look for her portrait, but it’ll be easier if I know her name.

The woman’s eyes flashed. She tossed her head and looked down on him haughtily. “Introduce yourself.”

Oz gestured. “You knocked at my door. Isn’t it your job to introduce yourself?”

In his mind, he flipped through an etiquette book. The lower ranked mage, as a show of deference, should introduce themselves to the higher ranked mage.

Hmm. I’m being rude right now, huh?

They’re the ones who started blasting the second I opened the door. Between me and them, they’re the ruder ones. I think this is fair play.

And I’ll be honest… I don’t exactly feel the need to show respect to a bunch of racists.

The woman’s jaw clenched. “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“Hard to, when she won’t introduce herself,” Oz said, shrugging.

A vein throbbed in the woman’s forehead. Her eyes narrowed.

“Nice to meet you, then.” Oz slowly shut the door.

“You dare?”

“I dare.” Only a crack of sunlight remained.

“Stop!”

Oz opened the door a little. He raised a brow.

The woman drew herself up to her full height. “Know that you stand before Morag, of the Severance Sect.”

“Cool. Know that you stand before Oz. Nice to meet you.”

Morag’s eyelid twitched, but she pretended not to notice his cheeky greeting. She lifted her chin, peering behind him. “You harbor a demon. We have come to rid you of the pest.”

Oz tilted his head. “Pest? You’re a bit late. We already handled the bug infestations ourselves, so we don’t need any more pest control, thanks.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t play the fool with me, child. Grant us access, or we will grant it ourselves.”

“If it was that easy to break into the library, half the town would’ve done it already. Stop bluffing and go home,” Oz said, shaking his head at her.

“This is no bluff. We will find a way to crack this barrier.”

“Okay. Talk to you when that happens,” Oz said.

Morag’s upper lip raised in derision. She leaned in, her whole body tense, held in check by a monumental force of self-control. “Hear this, Ossian Vestal. We will remember this. Everything that you said today will be used against you when the Church of the Sun has you convicted on account of sheltering a demon. I—”

“Oh, so that’s your game. Should’ve opened with that,” Oz interrupted her.

Morag’s entire face burned red. She trembled with fury. Her lips pursed, moving without sound, until she at last managed one word. “What?”

Oz waved his hand. “I wasn’t born yesterday, you know?” I was born three-ish days ago, actually. “Everyone wants the library, and you’re all willing to do pretty much everything to get it, right? Congratulations, you’re the first ones to try to pin legal charges on me to get me out of here. Bad news, though. It’s not going to work.”

Morag slammed her hand on the barrier. Gold light shimmered where her fist struck. Through gritted teeth, she hissed, “Do you really think you’re invulnerable inside this pitiful barrier? Our founder could pop this like a bubble. Even his pinky holds enough power to devastate your precious library, barrier or no. You’re lucky that he doesn’t consider you worth his gaze, let alone his time. But refuse to cooperate, and you’ll face the consequences!”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“If your founder wants to personally kill my friend Linnea, then he can come down here and talk to me himself,” Oz said, pressing his fingertips together.

Morag scoffed. “You think he cares—”

“No. I don’t think he cares. So, please, stop bluffing. You want the library, because it would be a nice prize to use to… I don’t know, get promoted in your sect?” Oz guessed.

Morag flinched.

Thought so. I recognized this desperation from promotion season back at my job. “You don’t really want to kill Linnea. You’re just using her as an excuse to pressure me into giving you access to the library… or perhaps you intend to cast her killing as a ‘righteous’ quest, and fool your sect into giving you resources to break in, all so you can further your own glory.”

The other members of the Severance Sect glanced at Morag. Hector, the swordsman, frowned at her, taken aback, earnest surprise written all over his face. The slender man and the voluptuous woman shared a look, after which the man snickered and the woman rolled her eyes.

Oz snorted under his breath. Seems like this isn’t the first time Morag has selfishly sought her own progress at the expense of her team. Well, so be it. Such is the nature of bad group leads, to selfishly use their underlings to promote themselves.

Usually it isn’t so bad, since the underlings grow in glory with the team lead, if at a slower pace, but it seems like Morag hasn’t been sharing the spotlight. Hector’s too fresh to notice, but the other two look pretty tired of it.

He gave her a dismissive wave. “I’m not going to be your promotion fodder. Go back home.”

“Do not dismiss me. I am merely an emissary of a far more powerful force. It doesn’t matter what my goals are. The Severance Sect will not suffer a demon in the Mage’s Quarter.”

Oz pursed his lips. He looked around, then shrugged. “Seems like you’ve been suffering it for a while with no harm to me. Besides, she’s locked in here. Where’s the danger?”

“When she kills you and drinks your blood, it will be too late for your shriveled corpse to regret this moment,” Morag declared firmly. “You did not need to make an enemy of the Severance Sect. And yet—”

“I made an enemy of Morag. I don’t think you speak for your entire sect,” Oz said, eyeing the other mages around her. “Speaking of, you haven’t introduced us. Hector, good to meet you, and you two?”

The voluptuous woman waved. “I’m Bridin. Nice to meet you.”

“Caibre. Likewise,” the skinny man replied, bowing shortly.

“Are you all so opposed to a harmless demon living in the library?” Oz asked.

“Yes! The righteous path is one strewn with demon corpses!” Hector shouted.

Caibre and Bridin exchanged a look. Caibre cleared his throat. “She’s first-realm, and as far as I’m aware, has no history of harming anyone. As long as she can prove she isn’t a man-eater, I have no quarrel with her.”

Oz’s smile stiffened. Depending on what you mean by ‘man-eater,’ that might not be possible… but as far as I know, she hasn’t eaten anyone since she got to the Mage’s Quarter.

“If she wasn’t in the library, we’d probably just chase her out of the city and leave it at that,” Bridin said, giving Morag a meaningful look.

“Demons eat people. They slaughter mortals for food! Even a low-level demon can eradicate a mortal village in days!” Hector snarled, brandishing his sword at Bridin.

“It’s true that they can, but if humans were a demon’s first choice of food, there wouldn’t be a mortal left in the world. I see our role as more of an intermediary, separating dangerous demons from harmless ones,” Bridin said, ignoring his blade.

Hector lifted his lip. “The Church of the Sun—”

“—does not control us. Founder Naomhan deliberately separated the Severance Sect from the Church of the Sun, so that we would not be waylaid by the Church’s dogma,” Caibre interrupted him.

“Waylaid? How can one be waylaid by the truth?” Hector snapped.

Bridin sighed. “I feared this. The young ones are too close to the Church of the Sun. At this rate, our sect will truly become nothing but the Church’s warring arm. If only Naomhan wasn’t stuck in secluded cultivation…”

Caibre waved his hand. “There’s no use talking about things that are not. If we’re fortunate, he’ll break through soon.”

“And if not?”

Caibre shook his head. He glanced at Oz. “We shouldn’t talk of these things so openly.”

Hector lifted his lip. He drew back his sword. “Who cares about the Founder? For besmirching the teachings of the Church, I ought to—”

Morag’s eyebrow twitched. Hector dropped to the ground, completely flattened by an invisible force.

Within the Library’s protective barrier, Oz pursed his lips, eyeing the muscular man in heavy armor. Hector is definitely stronger than me, whether we’re counting magic or muscles, and Morag could squash him that easily? Maybe I shouldn’t be so cheeky.

But on the other hand, if I bow to her, all the other bullies who want this library will smell that as weakness and flock to the feast like sharks smelling blood. I can’t afford to lower my head. Not even once.

He nodded at Morag. “If that’s all, then—”

“Ah? My apologies. I didn’t mean to barge in.”

All five of them looked up.

Sachairi strode toward them, his hands behind his back, ash drifting delicately after him. A delicate scent of cedar smoke swirled on the air around him, mingling with the smoke lifting off his body. Orange and yellow robes billowed around his body, pulled low at the neck to vent heat. Aisling walked at his heel, her eyes cold, braid swishing as she walked.

Morag’s eyes narrowed. “Master Dho.”

“Master Gallan. Well met.”

“You haven’t died yet?”

“Unfortunately, no. For yet another day, I must draw air and thus deny so many what they so dearly want,” Sachairi said with a smile.

Morag’s face twisted. She turned her head and spat.

Oz glanced from Morag to Sachairi. I didn’t get the impression that Sachairi was widely hated, but she seems to think of him as a villain.

Then again, with his stance of “I don’t care what you are, as long as you make things interesting,” I could certainly see him butting heads with someone like Morag, who seems to have a more black-and-white take on things.

“Oz! You didn’t tell me there was a party. I would have brought more snacks,” Sachairi said, nodding past Morag.

“I didn’t know there would be one, either, but here we are,” Oz said, shrugging.

Morag narrowed her eyes at Oz. “You should choose your companions more carefully.”

Oz shrugged. “I dunno, I feel pretty happy with my picks.”

She rounded on Sachairi. “And you. I thought you had at least a thimbleful of restraint.”

“Morag, darling. I’m a man who set himself on fire. What part of that suggests restraint?” Sachairi asked, spreading his hands.

With a fierce snort, Morag turned on her heel and marched off. She thumped into Sachairi, giving him a dirty look. The other mages followed after her, Bridin waving as she left.

A moment after Morag passed, Sachairi grabbed his shoulder and wrinkled his face. “Ow, ow, I’m injured!”

“Master, have some dignity,” Aisling murmured, shaking her head.

“What’s dignity?” Sachairi stood upright and dusted off his shoulder. He nodded at Oz. “I heard you’ve been bedding down with a demon.”

“Not… so much,” Oz said, shaking his head.

Sachairi chuckled. “You’re a young man. It’s only natural.”

“I really haven’t,” Oz repeated, giving Sachairi a look.

“Then why are you protecting the demon?”

“Is there a reason I should abandon her?”

Sachairi grinned. “Good lad. I knew I liked you.”

Oz snorted. He leaned against the doorway and nodded at Sachairi. “What brings you here? I thought everyone was avoiding me after I befriended a demon.”

Sachairi lowered his head, a little embarrassed. “I would have come right away, but unfortunately, I am still beholden to a few elder mages. They forced me to wait until things cooled down a bit.”

“Did things cool down?” Oz asked, eyeing the retreating foursome.

“Enough for the elders. To be fair, those four hadn’t yet arrived when they agreed to let me visit.” Sachairi chuckled.

Oz sighed. “How bad is it, anyways? She’s hiding in here, and isn’t hurting anyone. Why’s everyone panicked?”

Sachairi shrugged. “Imagine your neighbor keeps a grown tiger in their house. They tell you it’s safe, and it’s an indoor tiger. It isn’t going to get out. Wouldn’t you still be afraid?”

“I guess,” Oz said. You can’t talk to tigers, though.

“I wouldn’t worry too much. They’ll forget, soon enough. The next scandal will come about, and they’ll move on from the demon in the library.”

Oz nodded. I’m familiar enough with the media circus whirling from one celebrity drama to the next. I just wish I wasn’t the subject of that whirling.

“What happened to your wrist?” Sachairi asked, nodding.

Oz lifted his arm, showing him the cut and the black marks tracing from the wound. “Creeping Darkness. Professor Keane hit me with it.”

“Oh. Is that why you’ve been buying out the low-realm herbs? Now I understand. I’d offer to dispel it, but…” He lifted his arm, showing Oz the heat throbbing with every beat of his heart.

“That… yes. I do appreciate the thought.” Oz eyed Sachairi’s arm. He might be used to superheated qi, but if he tried to use it to purge my poison, that stuff would burn through me like molten lava.

A moment passed. Sachairi smiled at Oz. Oz smiled back.

“…May I ask why you graced my library with your presence?” Oz asked at last. After all, he usually sends Aisling.

“There’s something I wish to tell you personally. Do you have a moment?” Sachairi tilted his head. The smoke wafting from his hair dissipated, only to wisp back together.

Tell me personally? That means stepping outside or inviting Sachairi inside. Oz glanced over his shoulder and bit his lip. Even under the best of circumstances, do I want a burning man inside my library full of precious old books?

On the other hand, if I step outside… Morag just walked away. I bet she’d sprint back here in an instant to insta-gib me. True, Sachairi can probably fight her off, but do I want to find myself in the middle of a two-on-five fight? If Sachairi is busy fighting three high-level mages, will he be able to protect me?

Oz glanced at Sachairi. “Can you tell Aisling?”

“It’s better if I don’t,” Sachairi said firmly.

Oz pursed his lips. I must be able to talk to Sachairi safely somehow. But how do I do that, without letting him into the library or stepping outside?