Quinn wasn’t precisely sure what she’d been expecting when they stepped into the Feshpa Alin region, but seeing the book doctor she worked with on a daily basis and communicated with frequently glowing as if she’d been irradiated by plutonium or something hadn’t been on her bingo card. She stopped looking at Narilin, pretty sure her mouth was open like a goldfish. Nishpa poked her and shook her head. Quinn shrugged and gestured towards Narilin.

Nishpa brushed Quinn’s thoughts, and Quinn allowed her access to speak to her. This is a Salosier’s homecoming. Narilin hasn’t returned for, I do think, about a month. This is the way of the Feshpa Alin region, recognizing her, welcoming her back, and enabling her to access power that she, well, can’t access through the Library precisely.

Oh, Quinn said, watching as the color suffused very slowly through Narilin’s entire being. Narilin, she noticed, wasn’t standing on the hover or safety pad. She was connected through the entire region by the root system that ran through everything. It clicked in Quinn’s head; it made perfect sense, sort of, mostly, because magic surrounded them and the book doctor was tapping into it. So she needs to recharge, basically, like, you know, recharging a battery of some sort.

Nishpa appeared to ponder that thought. Aye, I believe so, if you’re meaning sort of like a mana stone that requires you to refill it.

Yes, Quinn said, like the ley lines and the pools of mana that need to be refilled now that we have the filtration system working properly.

Precisely, Nishpa said. You caught onto that rather fast.

I should hope so, Quinn said. The idea of replenishing a power source isn’t exactly rocket science.

Nishpa raised an eyebrow, not understanding what rocket science was, anyway.

Finally, the color seeped out of Narilin, floating away as if it were fireflies on a breeze.

It was beautiful to watch, the permanent dusk that settled over everything, leant the entire forest a surreal deep orange hue. Quinn didn’t want to speak; she didn’t want to break the spell, and so she waited until Narilin opened those moon-silver eyes and smiled a real smile. All the tension leaked out of the Salosier’s body, and she smiled at Quinn again.

“I think I should do this more often,” she said.

“You do realize you get days off of work, right?” Quinn asked.

“Of course, I just, I get a bit obsessed,” Narilin said.

Quinn bit back her first response, which was, You don’t say, and instead took a very slight breath and said, “You work very hard.” See, she could be diplomatic when she tried to be.

Aradie fluffed up on Quinn’s shoulder, probably because she could hear what Quinn was thinking since she hadn’t blocked her out of her thoughts. “Shush you,” she sent to the bird, who sort of tapped her with her wing. Quinn would say smacked, but feathers were fairly soft.

“Are you quite ready?” Nishpa asked Narilin.

“Yes, yes I am.” They began moving, and Quinn hovered, aiming for the next board that she could see, probably about 20 feet away.

“I thank you, Librarian, for respecting our traditions and understanding that our way of communication and life force sharing is done through the root systems that bind and sustain us all.”

“Of course,” Quinn said, not knowing how else to respond, considering it’d be a real crappy move of her to step all over the vines and the roots. And frankly, it kind of gave her the heebie-jeebies, because wouldn’t that be like stepping on people’s veins and appendages and just whatevers? She shuddered ever so slightly. “Yep, no worries here,” she said. “All good with respecting traditions.”

Narilin actually chuckled. “It’s not too far,” she said. “We have many openings that we could use, but that one is the easiest entrance into our domain that outsiders can safely traverse,” Narilin amended.

“Is the canopy this dense everywhere?” Quinn asked.

“Yes and no,” Narilin responded. “We require sunlight and other forms of light, depending on which branch of the Salosier we belong to. We do have some moonlight-stimulated segments of our species. However, sunlight aids in our photosynthesis, which I’m sure you are aware of. Very often the sunlight can, however, be too strong for us, especially the little ones or the elderly. And the canopy opens as it sees fit to allow the light to filter down.”

“So what time is it right now?” Quinn said, looking around. On second thoughts since they’d had to leave in the middle of the night to get there at the right time, she guessed it was already daylight in the Feshpa Alin region.

“We have just passed dawn. It brings a new day. It is the time that heralds new visitors and new information, new life, the beginning of sustenance and, thus, it is the best time for us to receive new visitors. Nishpa assisted me in enabling us to, well, to respect the customs I was raised with,” Narilin said. Quinn didn’t think she’d ever heard Narilin speak quite this much. There was an element of passion in her voice, an element of love and care and pride in who she was and where she came from.

“It shouldn’t be too long now,” Narilin said, breaking through Quinn’s thoughts. As Quinn hovered to the next platform, she was extremely mindful and careful not to accidentally hit any vines or any other types of plants on her way. She picked her way extremely carefully.

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The vines moved of their own accord too, sometimes swaying out of her way. She almost expected them to blink open eyes or wave at her. The entire forest was alive in ways Quinn didn’t want to think about too deeply.

“We’re almost here,” Narilin said. “Uncle Escadril will be. Should be just beyond this next section.”

Quinn followed Nishpa and Narilin carefully as they came upon a large area. It wasn’t a clearing because there were still plants and trees and everything, but it was more of a central hub where there were different types of short shrub-like trees that might be eight or nine feet tall in the middle of it. Ones that didn’t rise up into the canopy. The beautiful hut-like houses scattered throughout the massive area, giving it an abundance of life.

“Here we are,” Narilin said. “Central hub 43A.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. Narilin shrugged. “We like books. We do not tend to write the books.”

Quinn laughed, and they approached a house on the far left side. It was big and old, she could tell from the way the wood was gnarled and well worn in places, as if it had stood tall for millennia.

There was a large landing pad directly outside the door. Quinn wondered why they couldn’t have just come through this one, but she guessed it might take them into the house proper. That wouldn’t be polite, especially with a sick person inside.

Narilin raised a hand and knocked twice. The sound was different than Quinn expected. She thought it would be a rapping, like anybody knocking on a door, but it wasn’t. Instead, there was a low booming sound, not earth-shattering or ear-shattering, but an almost intonation of two soft bass drum beats that echoed around them for a split second. It sent a wave of calm through Quinn that she wished she could always have.

The door swung inward and a beautiful Salosier beckoned them inside. The woman who ushered them in was perhaps a couple of inches shorter than Narilin and therefore just shy of six feet tall. Her bark was faded, almost like a birch tree, sort of soft if Quinn looked at it, really. And that’s when she realized that this Salosier was older. Not that it was completely obvious, but she was definitely older than Narilin, probably by several centuries at least.

“Hello, I am Sarila. I am deeply gratified that you have come to visit, Librarian.” Sarila bowed deeply.

“I wanted to see if there was anything I could do,” Quinn said, hating the way she sounded so lame in her own mind.

Sarila said, “That is a shame.”

“A shame?” Quinn asked.

Narilin interrupted, “Aunt, it is not a shame.”

“Ah, I apologize. It is unfortunate as Escadril no longer appears to have the ability to heal.” Sarala’s voice cracked on the last word and Quinn stepped back, quite shocked.

“He’s doing that badly? You didn’t tell me that, Nishpa,” Quinn said, her voice low.

Nishpa shrugged. “Would it have made you not want to see him?”

Quinn shook her head. “No, I just... I would have liked to be prepared.”

“Understood. I will endeavor to do so next time. I do apologize,” Nishpa said.

Quinn nodded, even if she didn’t want there to be a next time. She’d even looked up the Salosier physiology and prepared for anything she could help with. “Are you sure there’s nothing I could do?” She asked Sarila.

Perhaps the Salosier woman, with her faded pale green leaves and her wonderful slender birch tree physique, heard the sadness in Quinn’s voice. “This was not your choice, Librarian. Please, just visit Escadril as the comrade you are. I know he has things he wishes to tell you.”

Quinn nodded soberly, fighting back a sudden wave of emotions she hadn’t expected to feel. She’d known Escadril for a relatively short time, but he’d always seemed very grandfatherly to her, more so than Milaro who often seemed to have a childlike countenance. Escadril felt ancient and old, like the redwoods in California. Trees that knew and experienced and held onto life at a different level.

They ushered her into the room and she realized they were right.

Escadril sat propped up on what looked sort of like a couch. There were vines and roots reaching in through an open patio door, lending him sustenance, but obviously not enough. He’d always looked more rugged than Narilin. Sturdier in build. But now, he was gaunt, and it looked like his bark was flaking off. He crackled when he moved.

There was no coming back from this.

“Escadril,” she said, trying not to let her voice crack, but she wasn’t entirely sure if she managed to keep the emotion out of it.

“Ah, Librarian,” he said, struggling to leverage himself up.

“No, don’t move,” she said. “Please, just stay comfortable.”

There was a mild twinkle in his eye that was gone almost as soon as it appeared. “Very well,” he said. “Come closer.”

And that’s when Quinn smelt the faint scent permeating him like a slow, subtle rot. She hadn’t managed to help him. Not at all, not during the fight. He was succumbing to it.

“Never you mind, Librarian. I know what that expression is,” he said. His voice was stern, more so than she’d ever heard it before.

“I’m sorry,” she said. But they both knew it had nothing to do with her feeling sorry for him here and, more so, with not being able to do anything during the fight weeks ago.

“Listen, I still have some time. I’m not as mobile and I will slowly fade.” Even as he moved ever so slightly, Quinn could hear the dry, brittle sound of the bark as it broke in places, accompanied by a soft, pungent scent that wafted into the air as he moved. She knew he didn’t have long, not with that underlying scent of rot. But she smiled and nodded.

“I’m thousands of years old, Librarian. You do not need to worry about me.” His smile continued. “I have lived an amazing life.”

She was really trying hard not to worry and was failing abysmally at it. But still, Quinn nodded.

“I see you do not believe me. Then what I would like to tell you is something of the fight, something that I learned and something that I believe you should know. The Petraligno that I fought, Itujo, he is of an ancient sect. The Petraligno will not be friends to the Library, ever. You cannot trust them. They will infect everything with rot. Any books they lay their hands on, any paper they access, any knowledge they receive, and all manner they touch, their rot will spread.”

He gestured to his side, and that’s when Quinn noticed the seeping, rotting bark that appeared to be slowly dissolving his body. She choked back the anger and the sob that she felt, smoothing over her emotions and choosing to deal with them later.

Later, when she could channel them into something more productive, when she could use that energy to fuel the next step.

“Petraligno’s bad. Got it. Excellent.” She forced the words out, pushing her anger at the current situation down.

But Escadril’s eyes were fierce in their intense gaze. He needed her to listen and so he repeated himself. “Don’t trust them. Don’t listen to them. And above all, make sure they don’t seep into the Library. They’re very good at getting in places they shouldn’t be.”

Quinn nodded, but she couldn’t help the feeling, his words weren’t so much a warning as an ominous premonition.