Camille pushed her cart from the librarian’s desk toward the stacks. The wheels rumbled on the dark flagstones, and her route took her past tall oaken bookshelves and frosted glass windows.

The library was the oldest building in Starwing Town, and no lights shone from the high vaulted ceilings. Instead, pale yellow mana crystals hung from sconces on the walls and pillars, made to look like candles without the flames. Smaller lamps decorated every table, desk, and study nook. These offered plenty of light to read by, even on a cloudy day like today.

Camille had been coming here since she was a little girl, and few things had changed over the years. She’d always called it the ‘library,’ but the building also had a more formal name—the Temple of Knowledge.

Some religions built structures with elaborate architecture to impress the masses. She’d once seen the elves' temple in Arvendale, and its domed roofs dominated the skyline, with statues and fountains filling the courtyard.

But things were different here in Questers Valley. The Titans didn’t care for elaborate rules, rituals, or sermons. Even prayer was optional. The Titans only cared about their chosen traits, and how their followers lived out those traits in their daily lives.

If you wanted to show your devotion to Kragor, then you practiced martial arts at the Temple of Strength. You showed devotion to Thaloria by reading at the Temple of Knowledge, and so on and so forth.

Not every Titan had a temple, of course. No one could agree on specific buildings for wisdom, charisma, or craft, but folk had certainly tried over the years. Most notably, the town’s mechanists had once called their workshop the ‘Temple of Craft.’ But craft was such a wide bucket. Mechanism was a craft, but so was farming, cooking, painting, and music. And when the mechanists declared their workshop the official temple, a rival faction of artists had risen to do the same.

This resulted in a holy war that spanned the entirety of Starwing Town, with both sides stubbornly boycotting the other’s business. The war lasted for the better part of a century until the instigators had all passed away. And since none of the children had inherited their parents’ fervor, they’d simply renamed the buildings and moved on with their lives.

“Camille?” Laurel Gilder popped her head down the aisle. “Ah, there you are.” As always, the master librarian kept her auburn hair pulled back in a tight bun, with a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. She wore a blue blouse today, with a silver necklace and earrings. Laurel had dozens of outfits, but she always managed to incorporate Thaloria’s colors in some way.

“I’m having an early dinner with my husband,” the older woman said. “Can you handle things while I’m gone?”

“Oh yeah,” Camille said as she parked her cart. “I’ll be fine.”

She finished putting away the books, then she headed over to the arts and crafts section near the front. A group of kids had trashed the place less than an hour ago, leaving a mess of supplies scattered around the room. Paper clippings covered the tables and . . . was that glue on the chairs?

Kids were never so misbehaved back in her day. Or rather, their parents were never so absent-minded. If Camille had done that as a girl, her nanny would have made her get down on the floor and scrub it clean herself.

Laurel was gone, so this might be the perfect time for those glue bottles to ‘get lost.’

The bell tingled above the front door, and Camille glanced up. Zack strode in a second later with Daudilus trotting loyally by his side.

“Hey.” Camille stepped over to the door and glanced down at the husky. “You do know dogs aren’t allowed in here?”

“Come on,” Zack said. “I just saw Laurel leave with Doctor Gilder. That means you’re in charge, right?”

“I guess so, but—”

“Daudilus has always been a good boy,” Zack continued. “And now he’s an even better boy with his fancy mana core.”

The husky nodded along, looking quite pleased with himself. His tail swished back and forth as he took in the library’s sights.

“Alright,” Camille said. “Fine. Can’t be any worse than the kids who made this mess.” She headed back to the arts and crafts section, and Zack and Daudilus followed close behind.

“Are we alone?” Zack asked in a low voice.

Camille closed a pair of double doors that led back to the main stacks. “A few kids are studying upstairs, but that’s it.”

“Good.” Zack unshouldered his backpack and pulled out a sphere-shaped object wrapped in a dark green pillowcase. “I think you should have this.”

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She took a step back. “What? Why?”

“We found these together.” He gestured a finger between her and Daudilus. “It’s only fair that we split them three ways.”

“What would I even do with that thing?”

“You can do whatever you want with it,” he said. “But I’d use it if I were you.”

“No way.” She held her hands out in a warding gesture.

Zack spent the next few minutes talking about his morning, and everything he’d done with Gia. He told her about the quests and skills he’d unlocked, and he sounded genuinely excited about the whole thing. The feeling was almost contagious . . . but no, this was all too much, too soon.

“It could help you at your job,” Zack said. “You’d be the best librarian ever!”

“Did you actually get better at anything?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “I mean—not to be a storm cloud, but it sounds like Gia gave you points for things you already knew.”

“This was the first day,” Zack said. “And look what happened with Daudilus! ”

“True.” She considered that as she glanced down at the husky. “How come it affected him so much more?”

“Everyone starts with roughly the same stats,” Zack said. “His core is working hard to raise his cognition. It brings him closer to an average human.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” she said. “Doesn’t he still have a canine brain?”

Zack shrugged. “This is mana we’re talking about here.”

That was true. Other animals had become smarter throughout history, and mana usually played some part in their development.

“Speaking of mana,” Camille said. “I did some more research today. The human mages of Silvercrest used to empower their armies with secret training techniques. Some books even mentioned levels and quests, but it was all vague.”

“Okay.” Zack furrowed his brow. “That’s good . . . right?”

“How is this good?”

“It means other people have tried this—not just the gnomes. You were worried about that before, right? Mana poisoning and all that?”

“Yes, but don’t you think it’s strange?”

“Strange?” Zack echoed.

“How all these old civilizations used mana, and we know nothing about it?”

“Not really. Why would a nation’s military share its secrets with its enemies? Plus we still use mana today.” He gestured around with his hand. “The whole town runs on it.”

“But only the elves use mana for combat, and they don’t like it when the rest of us dabble with it.”

“Maybe.” Zack’s lips made a thin line. “But I wasn’t planning on sharing this with the elves.”

She gave him a frank look. “Daudilus glowed blue when he healed his leg.”

“I thought about that. Gia said the blue glow was mana slippage. We can hide it when we reach a higher level.”

“And what if the elves have a technique that can see through yours?”

“Hey, it’s not like I’m committing any crimes.” Zack put a hand to his chest. “The worst they could do is confiscate this.”

Camille just shook her head. “I’m glad this is working for you, but I’m not that reckless.” She sank into one of the chairs, and Daudilus trotted over and rested his head on her lap. He looked up at her, pleading with his blue eyes.

“Seriously?” she said. “You two are going to gang up on me?”

“No one’s ganging up on you,” Zack said with a raised hand.

“You just want me to help you in the tunnels. That’s why you really came here.”

“I do want your help,” Zack said. “But I think you’d like the mana core if you tried it.”

She snorted. “You sound like your mother now.”

Zack ignored that. “What’s the big deal? You can always take it back out if it’s not your thing.”

“I think I know myself pretty well.” Camille looked down at her shoes, and her mind flashed back to the tunnel. That fight with the beetles had been far too close. And that troll . . . even Zack’s new mana core wouldn’t help him against that.

“I already tried going to the mines,” she said. “And they definitely weren’t my thing.”

“Oh.” Zack wilted at that. She half expected him to keep pushing—to explain how things weren’t normally so bad. Instead, he remained silent for several long seconds.

“Sorry,” he finally said. “Guess I should have realized that before.” He retrieved the wrapped mana core, stuffed it in his backpack, and headed toward the door. “I’ll see you later,” he said with a half-hearted wave. Daudilus licked her hand before trotting after him.

Camille waved back, but she felt a tinge of regret as they stepped out the library’s front door.

Wasn’t this the outcome she’d wanted?

She’d been completely honest with Zack; she hadn’t enjoyed the mines at all. She wasn’t a fighter like him, and she hated that sense of paralyzing fear. Her heart had pounded down like a dwarven drum, she felt like it would explode out of her chest. Her knees shook like saplings in the wind, her hands went numb, and her stomach churned relentlessly. In hindsight, she’d been lucky not to pass out or lose her lunch.

And yet . . . she’d felt that way before, outside the gnomish tunnels. She felt it whenever she argued with her father about her future, or when she thought of performing on stage with her guitar. She even felt it when she tried to confess her feelings to Zack.

Camille glanced around at her empty surroundings. Laurel was already in her sixties, and she would probably retire within the next decade. Someone else would have to take her place, and Camille was the obvious choice. While there were technically three apprentices, she was the most dedicated by far. Liam was getting married next summer and moving to Timbervale, and Alice was busy with her three kids.

If Camille took over, then every day would be just like today. It wasn’t a bad life at all. She loved the library, and she loved getting paid to read and research books in her downtime. She also had a good sense for numbers and organization—Laurel had said so.

Still . . . something was missing from her life. Could she really keep this up for forty more years? Had she slid into this role by default, without considering all her options?

Those gnomish tunnels held ancient mysteries; not just by the standards of Starwing Town, but for the world at large. And if Zack was right, then these mana cores were a chance to rise above their surroundings.

Camille would never be as bold as Zack, but that didn’t matter. What if this whole thing was a step in the right direction for her? A step toward becoming less timid, and more like the person she wanted to be? The prospect still terrified her, but that was the point. She would never change if she didn’t push herself.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she rushed out the front door and through the small parking lot.

“Zack!” she hollered.

He spun around at the sound of his name. “Yeah?”

Camille swallowed hard, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. “I changed my mind. I want to come with you.”