The two of them worked their way through the library. Oz spritzed the books that Aisling pointed out. Worms fell to the ground at their feet.

As he worked, he read the bestiary in his mind, using the reading-meditative state and the repetitive nature of the deworming work to absorb more qi out of the air. Whenever he gathered enough qi, he rested his hand on a book and scanned it, then set the book flat on the ground. I need to know which ones I’ve already downloaded, after all. I’d carry them, but my hands are full with the vinegar and feather.

Sid followed them, occasionally leaping up to snatch an errant moth out of the air or bat a dying worm into the corner.

Time passed. Slowly, they treated the books. Away from the lobby and the infested passage, fewer moths fluttered around, and Sid handled the majority of them. The rest, Aisling snatched out of the sky as casually as Oz might pick an apple. Martial mages are no joke, he thought, watching her leap from shelf to shelf to pluck a moth from the ceiling.

She landed with a quiet thump and raised a brow. “What?”

“I couldn’t do that in a million years.” He swung his arms as if to leap himself.

Laughing, Aisling shook her head at him. “I could train you, but it would cost you more than one time’s admission to your library. And you’d need to commit to a brutal training regimen.”

Oz put his hands up. “I’m a reader, not an athlete.”

Aisling grinned. “You know, you’re a lot more fun than I was expecting, Oz.”

“Am I?” Oz asked. What was the old Ossian like? It’s fine to be wrong now—after all, no matter what Roan says, it’ll get taken as badmouthing me, and I don’t think Aisling knew me very well beforehand, if she knew me at all. Even shouting at the crowd, ultimately, is fine. If I were the real Ossian, doubtless I’d be stressed out of my mind, and likely acting strange, so later on, I can write it all off as the pressure of becoming the library’s owner. Once I leave the library, or start interacting with people who knew Ossian better, I might need to play the part of the old Ossian, though. It’s good to be prepared.

“It’s not as if I knew you well, but when I occasionally saw you at bouts or tournaments, you always hung back, quiet, your head bowed. Other disciples would adjust their uniforms or wear jewelry, but you always wore the default uniform exactly the way the rules described. I got the impression you were… not quite shy, but rather, trying to blend into the background. As if your goal was to become air, and be nothing at all.”

Oz rubbed the back of his neck. I was quiet back in my first life, but not out of a hatred of people or a desire to become nothing, more because I’d rather read. I liked people, but people are hard.

Drama tires me out, and I’m not the easiest person to get along with, so it was easier to stay quiet and read than talk. Fundamentally, though, I never minded talking to people. As long as they don’t try to start drama, people are great!

Ossian’s quiet and my quiet are very different kinds of quiet. I wonder if Ossian had a complex about being unable to use magic? A complex that got worse after his Master left? Maybe he really did choose to summon me, even if it meant getting sent to another body, somewhere else.

How did that work, anyways? The whole summoning me into Ossian, and Ossian going elsewhere bit. I need to look into blood magic. I still remember the shape of the magic circle. If Ossian is the one who cast it, there should be a book describing how to cast that spell somewhere in here.

“But you’re not like that at all,” Aisling continued, unaware of Oz’s internal conversation. “Actually, you’re pretty nice.”

“Pretty nice?” Oz asked, quirking a brow.

Aisling waved her hand, blushing a little. “Oh, come on. You know what I mean.”

Oz grinned. Teasingly, he tilted his head. “Pretty nice…?”

“Writing letters? Desperate, desperate letters. You were trying to escape—no, sell out. Am I right?” Roan asked, his voice cutting through their friendly conversation.

Oz whirled. His heart dropped into his stomach. Fuck! I cleaned up the blood, but I forgot the letter!

At the sight of Oz’s expression, Roan smirked. He dangled a tattered piece of parchment. “Forget about this?”

Setting his stack of books down, Oz stomped over and snatched at it. The other boy tried to yank it out of Oz’s reach, but Oz grabbed his shoulder and jabbed his fingers into the underside of Roan’s elbow joint, forcing it to bend. He snatched the paper away. What did he see? How much was left? I can’t believe I made such a stupid mistake!

He scanned over the paper. The upper half of it was gone, totally devoured by worms. Only parts of the lower half remained, the paper gnawed on here and there.

have more power than mine.

Protect this place. Protect Master’s research. My payment to you, is her legacy. I’d rather a stranger filthy vultures in the city. They’d tear everything she built apart and set the world’s back by centuries’ worth of progress.

Sincerely,

Ossian Vestal

Oz let out a sigh. The worst of it got eaten. Thank you, caterpillars!

Come to think of it, how much of the useful texts did the caterpillars eat? Oz froze for a moment, then shook his head. No point panicking about it now. We’ll see how bad the damage is when we get there.

“Still, what the hell is that?” Roan asked, rubbing his elbow.

“What? Never written a letter?” Oz asked, tucking the scrap into his robes.

Roan snorted. “No, your handwriting. I’ve seen your chickenscratch. Did you slave away for hours to learn to write something readable? And that fancy signature. Who are you trying to fool?”

Oz raised his brow. It’s not written in my handwriting? That is, Ossian’s handwriting. Curious.

The plot thickens. Suddenly, it’s looking more and more like someone else sacrificed Ossian to the blood magic, rather than Ossian willingly committing it himself. At the very least, someone else was involved in the process if Ossian didn’t write the letter. If I can find the person with this handwriting, I might have a lead.

Of course, they probably altered their handwriting, but it’s the only clue I have. I might be able to learn something from studying it.

Roan leaned over Oz, smirking broadly. “Unless you were sending that thing to a girl, no reason to—”

“Uh huh. Did you finish up the caterpillars over there?” Oz asked. Who gives a shit. Seriously, Roan, calm down.

Roan blinked. He stared at Oz. “What?”

“He asked you a question,” Aisling said, standing at Oz’s shoulder.

“I did. Obviously.” Roan rolled his eyes. “And the lobby, while I was at it. Not that you asked.”

“If you didn’t want to destroy the books, why did you leave the cocoon in the library?” Oz asked. I’m curious about this. Roan set up the trap, even showed up to gloat about it, only to immediately change his tune and help out. It doesn’t line up.

“If I couldn’t have access to the books, it didn’t matter. Now that I can… it’s different,” Roan muttered.

“Is that all?” Oz asked. He looked down at Roan. Really? That little-kid mentality of ‘if I can’t have it, no one can?’ I thought mages were supposed to be mature.

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Then again, usually mages are old men and ladies, not kids, so I guess it makes sense.

Roan scowled. “I didn’t think of it myself. It—” He stopped abruptly.

“It…?” Oz prompted him.

Roan shook his head. “I like the library. I wanted to stay here. When Madame Saoirse started exiling everyone, I—I was one of the first to go. I mean, what kind of bullshit is that?”

“Roan! Language,” Aisling said, startled.

Oz waved his hand, unbothered. “So you left a trap?”

“It wasn’t my idea. No…I’ll take some of the credit. I was angry. I wanted to do whatever I could to get her back. I didn’t have enough time to think of something good, though.”

He nodded at Oz. “You know. Once Madame Saoirse exiles you, you have an hour to leave the premises. Someone caught me while I was moving my luggage around. Offered me a high position in their sect in return for placing the coffin.” His expression bittered. “Bunch of bullshit that was.”

Oh? So it wasn’t Cecil Daggarty, then, since he entered the Sun Cult, and based on his clothes, he’s doing well over there. Someone else wanted to destroy the library badly enough to have a plan ready to go the second someone inside became discontent, and not only that, chase them down and convince them to go along with it, even if they weren’t fully convinced. Oz pursed his lips. I know way too little information to figure out who, though. I need to learn more about this world. Read more. Understand more!

“Who?” Aisling asked, putting her hands on her hips.

Or we could just ask. Right. Oz looked at Roan, cocking a brow expectantly.

Roan shrugged. “I’d say if I could.”

She stared at him. “You made a pact?”

“Only because I thought it’d bind their half of the bargain, too. For all the good that did me,” Roan grumbled.

“It should,” Aisling said. Her brows furrowed, and she gave Roan a second look. “Unless…”

Oz waited, but Aisling’s voice petered out, and she said no more. Drawing himself up, Roan put on one of his best scowls and took a deep breath, clearly preparing more bluster.

“Aren’t you high-ranking in the Sun Cult?” Oz butted in, before Roan could launch into a new tirade. He nodded at Roan’s robes. I’m curious about this ‘pact,’ but that sounds like something I can find in a book. I can’t find out about Roan from reading history.

Roan pulled a face. “Firstly, Sunheart Sect. Don’t call it the Sun Cult. We aren’t a cult. No one’s summoning anything. Secondly, a high-ranking member of the outer sect. I might as well be a rogue mage.”

“The Flaming Fist Sect would welcome a mage of your talent any time,” Aisling offered.

“Ha! I’m better off as a member of the Sunheart Sect than a tiny no-name sect like yours,” Roan said, shaking his head at Aisling.

“But the library is better than Sunheart?” Oz asked. Might as well clarify my understanding of the hierarchy, as long as we’re on the topic.

Roan rolled his eyes. “Access to all the knowledge of magecraft one of the most powerful Grand Mages could acquire, or the limited teachings of Sunheart Sect? It’s obvious which one is superior. If I didn’t have fate with the Sunheart Sect’s teachings, after all, I’d face a dead end, no longer able to progress as a mage.

“In the Grand Magus’ Library, where are the dead ends? No matter how much fate you have with something, or which way your fate leads you, you’ll be able to find something on the matter. Someone has tread that path before.”

Oz nodded. Knowledge is power here, huh? Quite literally, in fact, since spells and magic techniques are no more than knowledge, once considered from a certain abstract angle. And, well, what is a library but the conglomeration of knowledge?

“That person who asked you to leave the cocoon in the library, were they jealous?” Oz asked. I understand wanting to acquire the library, but destroying it? I suppose sabotage makes sense to a certain extent, but why not try to own the library first? Why move straight to destroying it, without attempting any negotiation first?

Or was it a kind of time bomb? If I—that is, Ossian, didn’t hand over the library, then their sleeper cocoon assured the library’s destruction?

The counterpoint is that Roan and Aisling aren’t exactly Grand Magi. If Ossian gained any power as a mage at all, he could easily handle them. Even assuming he couldn’t ever gain magic, he could simply recruit help as I did.

No, I’m missing something. But what?

“Jealous?” Roan half-scoffed, half-laughed.

That isn’t it, then. Damn. I need more information!

He turned to Roan and Aisling. “Who would target the library?”

Aisling blushed and dropped her gaze to the floor.

Roan rolled his eyes at Oz. “Who wouldn’t?”

Oz clicked his tongue. Right. Damn. Who wouldn’t, after all. More people are after the library than I’ve seen so far in this world. Probably more than I knew back in my world.

Casually, he opened the Gossip book in his mind and began reading, putting the task on his mental back burner. Even if it’s stale, Gossip is gossip! Might as well brush up on who hates who.

If only I could read two books at once, and brush up on magic at the same time… Oz sighed, shaking his head. I need to ensure the survival of the library first. Without the library, I have no protection, and no hope of realizing Madame Saoirse and Ossian’s dreams.

Roan waved his hand, pushing Aisling and Oz out of the way as he stomped forward. “Out of the way. I’ll finish this off. You can put the vinegar back in the kitchen where it belongs.”

“Awesome. All I need are cucumbers and a week, and I’ll have something edible in my kitchen,” Oz said cheerfully.

Aisling looked at Oz. “You don’t have food?”

“You still need food?” Roan scoffed from down the aisle.

Oz fished the bottle of fasting pills out of his pocket. “I have these.”

Aisling wrinkled her nose. “That’s not food.”

“Yeah, I agree.” Oz shrugged. It’s all I’ve got. They aren’t pleasant, but I’ve survived them so far.

“I’ll see if I can help with that,” Aisling offered.

“That would be very kind of you,” Oz said, nodding as he put the pills back away.

He wandered along after Roan, occasionally scanning books, reading his mental copy of Gossip as he went. Ever so slowly, qi gathered in his core, even with his scanning.

Roan looked over his shoulder. “Why are you following me?”

“I dunno, why would I follow the guy who set the trap?” Oz returned casually, still reading Gossip.

“You let me in,” Roan said, confused.

“I’m generous, not stupid. I believe in second chances, not free rein,” Oz retorted.

Roan squinted at nothing. Ahead of him, moths smashed against the ground, while caterpillars reduced directly to paste. “Why now? You hate me. I hate you.”

“That’s just the thing, Roan. Why? Why are we caught up in this cycle of hate? Shouldn’t we simply forgive and forget?” Oz asked, sighing grandiosely. He put his two hands together, closing the copy of Gossip in his mind.

Turning, Roan stared at him. “Are you serious?”

From the way you said that, I probably shouldn’t be. “Why not?”

Roan scowled. “I’ve always been considered one of the most talented disciples of my era. And yet, for some reason, Madame Saoirse kicked me out, but kept you around?”

“Right, but before that,” Oz said, gesturing.

“She always picked you! I don’t know why. No one does. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors that you were her secret child. I half believe them myself, even though I know you aren’t. And then there was Linnea. I don’t know why she chose you. Everyone picked you. Always you. Never me, no matter how well I did, how talented I was—”

Oz lifted a hand. I get the frustration of being overlooked for being talented while your instructor pays attention to the loser in the corner. We’ve all been there. It’s a bit childish, but hey, Roan’s fifteen or something. No, what I want to know is: “Linnea?”

Roan physically did a double take. “What?”

“Linnea. What about…” Male? Female? “…her…?”

“You’re not serious,” Roan said.

“Let’s pretend I am, just for a minute.”

Roan squinted at him. “Linnea. Your girlfriend? The girl you stole from me?”

“Eh?” Oz asked. Hold on. Wasn’t I the ultimate wallflower? A guy so quiet he wanted to stop existing? How on earth did I steal a girl from anyone, let alone self-proclaimed protagonist of the universe Roan?

“Ossian stole your girlfriend…?” Aisling squinted disbelievingly at Roan.

Roan put his hands up. “He did! Why doesn’t anyone ever believe me?”

“Maybe Linnea had weird taste,” Oz muttered, putting a hand on his chin.

Roan nodded, then squinted at Oz. “Why are you the one saying that?”

“Simple math. You’ve got the world, and I’m some loser without magic. Who didn’t have magic,” he quickly appended. It’s not like I’m significantly more or less attractive than Roan, but it’s as they say: you can’t account for taste. Or, er, could it be? He looked down at his robes, barely resisting the urge to part them and get a closer look at his leggings.

A second later, he shook his head. They’re kids! Teenagers! No way it’s that.

Plus, eternal wallflower. So quiet he became air. That kind of guy didn’t seduce a girl out from under Roan.

Roan caught Oz’s glance. His face instantly twisted into an ugly scowl. “Shut up!”

“He didn’t say anything,” Aisling said, throwing her hand out in front of Oz.

“Taking his side again…” Roan narrowed his eyes.

“Man. Almost killing me because of some childish lover’s spat,” Oz muttered under his breath. And Aisling didn’t even react. Does that pass for normal here? This world’s more brutal than I thought.

“It’s not childish! I loved her. You—” Roan fell silent. He turned, expression dark, and walked for the exit.

“Wait, wait, I take it all back. Not childish at all. My apologies, Roan. Shouldn’t have done that. My bad, seriously,” Oz said.

Roan shook his head. He marched on, silent.

“She’s yours if you want her!” Oz called after him. Not like I know this girl. Better for me if I encounter as few people who knew me well as possible.

Roan’s body tensed even further. He spun, drawing his sword in the same moment, and pointed it at Oz.

Raising his arm, Oz hovered his fingers over the library control tattoo. One more move, and you’re gone.

Aisling stepped in front of Oz, lifting her hands. “Stand down, Roan.”

Roan stared at Oz for another long moment, then spun on his heel. “Not worth it.”

Oz watched him go. As Roan passed out of sight, he twisted his bared arm over, watching the tattoo. Three small ticks marked his wrist. The door slammed. One of the ticks turned silver and faded away.

He lowered his arm. “Whoops.”

Aisling snorted. “He’s always had a short fuse. You shouldn’t have provoked him.”

“My mistake.” Oz turned down the aisle, looking at the caterpillars still crawling the shelves. He cleared his throat, then looked at Aisling. “Looks like it’s up to us.”

“Indeed.” Aisling shook her head. “Next time, provoke Roan after he finishes his part.”

“Noted.” Oz lifted the feather, and together, they stepped forward.