“Hello!” the voice echoed as she passed by. She ignored it. “Miss-” the voice continued to talk, something she could no longer discern as she paced away and followed the turn.
“Help me!” A different voice began to plead, “please!”
She did not turn her head, merely shifted her eyes, to glance at the source. A painting of a fiery hell, the flames burning in blues and reds, yellows and whites. The people within were being tortured by – what looked like– imps. She had to remind herself to not hasten her steps.
Walking faster would be a tell. Her steps should have the same rhythm every time she passed through the corridor and as she walked up the dark cobblestone stairs, and it was all because of these paintings.
They prodded at her every time she explored this path, they would try different sentences, different voices, different drawings. It was only by the mercy of the divine that they could not communicate with each other to maximize the efficiency of their work.
At least she theorized they did not.
That would turn them into a giant singular trap that was dedicated to personalizing itself to her- no, anyone’s weaknesses, instead of what it was now.
She was still trying to avoid the one that figured out the baby tell.
A shrill scream boomed next to her, a painting of an abyssal being, she almost froze in place if it weren’t for her muscle memory carrying her on, purely the instinct of momentum built throughout the different journeys. She continued to walk with pretend purpose towards the top of the tower- not really a tower- keeping a straight, emotionless expression plastered to her face.
Until she reached the door, she placed her arm on it and channeled some power into the mechanism. The door responded and teleported her through, and into the dark, circular room.
The face she painted on melted away and her legs buckled underneath her.
Fuck the abyssal painting.
Fuck all the paintings on these stairs.
She took the moment of reprieve to take deep breaths to steady herself. The room began to hum gently and lights began to slowly illuminate her surroundings, eating away at the darkness of the room, they illuminated the tears she had underneath her.
Huh. she was crying.
The humming stopped. The room was fully lit, now.
She wiped her face and fished inside her long robe, her fingers shaking while trying to grab onto the large piece of paper hidden beneath.
It took a bit, but she eventually managed to get it out and began to unfold it.
Barely anything in there. The corridor, the one filled with hellish paintings. A few rooms. A few dead ends. Nothing of note… aside from her way back to the Nexus.
the council members would soon be here. She wiped her face, again– her sleeve came out damp, tears still building up in the corners of her eyes– and took one last, big breath to compose herself. She stood, straightened up, and lowered her hood.
“Fucking abyssal,” she vocalized.
She approached the center of the room and stood on the central platform that jutted out, slightly rising above the rest of the floor. The round room remained the same, for a while.
Any second now, she thought.
Mirrors manifested on the walls, bright blue and reflective, as tall as the room allowed. Figures began emerging within the mirrors. They walked out of the mirrors and into the room, all around her, in a setup she often resembled to the hours on a clock’s face, which also meant she was surrounded by twelve of the most powerful people she knew of.
She waited until the projected images solidified into a realistic representation, she could see the flush of blood on some of them. She waited for a few more seconds, then a few more, just in case.
“Everyone’s present, Librarian,” Midnight’s projection said. The hooded archmage led these meetings almost all the time, and that was her sign to begin.
“I- W-well,” she started, but found her brain a large blank.
Three sighed. “Is she truly irreplaceable?” She asked no one in particular.
“Librarian,” Seven called out. She did not turn, it was impolite to turn away from Midnight. Impolite, and deadly. “Begin with the paper reports on the expedition, deep breaths.”
She did, the breathing part at least. Shuffling in her cloak for the papers still proved a harder task than the map.
“We don’t have all day, kid,” Nine snarled, almost making her jump out of her skin. Almost.
“I- have run the daily experiments,” she began. They probably wanted to know about those first, “We have found a couple of dozens of portals, nothing of value yet, from preliminary expeditions and surveys,” she struggled to keep the papers in workable order, “uh- I, we cataloged the locations of the portals, and barricaded them just in case.”
They remained quiet and so she moved to the next topic she could think of.
“The- the golem study workshop we made in the nexus has encountered difficulties with the requests made from the council,” she managed to grab out the papers, and more miraculously, managed to get the report of that specific project.
They had captured Golems, restrained, shut off, or partially destroyed them during explorations of the Nexus’ fifteenth portal.
It mentioned the faults in the process of replicating those inanimate guardians, circuitry was not compatible with the energy cores that were extracted from different golems, which suggested that each one was built as a unique unit- Oh.
“The project seems to be facing a creative wall block,” she said diplomatically, trying her best impression of ‘I did not forget where I was while reading this’. “The circuitry seems to be in conflict with the power flow. The experiments’ results suggest that the power seems to refuse to go anywhere.”
She cleared her throat and swallowed before the next part. “Even using the blueprints provided by the esteemed council,” a specific one at least, “my opinion is that the blueprints that were acquired are most likely incomplete.” Inadequate, more likely.
The other members will probably understand that from the reports. Reports that would be on their way. Any moment now. Hopefully.
There was another snarl from Nine, the woman who provided said blueprints.
“Perhaps you, and those incompetent fools at the workshops, should be checked for qualifications. Those blueprints are perfect, do not question your betters. ” Nine scoffed before she continued, “you will continue working on those blueprints until-”
“It’s impossible- we can’t-” Librarian began before realizing she interrupted the woman.
“-Until you get it working, as it's supposed to-”
“Enough,” Midnight spoke, loud enough to be heard through the arguments. There was quiet again.
“Written reports will be sent to each council member regarding the matter?” he asked, and she nodded, hurriedly, “Very well, please do not presume on our behalf, Librarian” Midnight said in a scolding tone,
“Of- of course, many apologies,” she bowed slightly.
He did not scold Nine, but he did stare in her direction, and enough was said in the silence.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
She remembered something her master once said about council members and fragile egos. She had no idea how underwhelming his comments were, or how tame – until lately.
“Project Rune,near the seventh portal,” she began again, getting the report on the project while pocketing the golem one, “out of a hundred subjects, six produced the desired results. According to Professor-” she paused, no names, just monikers, “according to Savant, six unique attributes manifested in each successful subject, as well as the desired results of super strength, immunit-”
She blinked.
Was this report for real? This can’t be right. Those results, the numbers…
“Librarian.”
“...ninety three deaths, and one catastrophic failure?” she mumbled, hand to her chin. How bad is a catastrophic failure, that nearly a hundred deaths sounded like a much better result?
The energies harvested from the Nexus were proving more volatile, shifting in accordance to the celestial objects and…
“Librarian.”
She needs to contact the Savant later and discuss the process of-
“Librarian!”
“I- Many apologies, but… Ninety three deaths, one failure?”
There were nods of approval around the circle. She noticed there was no display of concern – on the side she could see, at least.
“The prof- Savant would be sending you detailed reports himself, as I know nothing on the details of the project, or its location, or-”
Midnight stared at her, not amused in the slightest. She cleared her throat and got the next one.
“Three scions were discovered during expeditions to the third, ninth, and eighteenth portals.” The scions were avatars of certain principles, guardians of altars to said powers. Or so theorized.
“We were unable to get any captured, killed, nor recruited, despite them looking and sounding surprisingly human,” she said while fetching the next report. “The expedition seems to have lost sight of one of those scions after it made contact with a Light one, no further details were provided as the expedition is still missing.”
No response at all.
Well then…
“Oh! This one is my own,” she smiled, “the excavations in the Blacksands portal —that’s the fifth— produced most interesting clues towards finding the library sunken beneath the sandsea,” she nodded, “we found one local that has deep knowledge of the-”
And there it was, disappointment. Disdain for the project that she spearheaded after taking her position. Complete disinterest was even a worse look coming out of some of the members.
“The Polestar expedition keeps running into signs of undeath, skeletons, ghouls, undead body parts regaining animation. Phantoms were also seen around which slowed down the efforts,” she added, better to air out that laundry now before those rumors blindside her, “I would like to request the deployment of protection to the expedition. a Lord, if possible-”
“We cannot afford to send Lords to minor projects,” Six said in a warning tone.
Of course not, they are all busy dying on other continents that had no semblance of civilization, trying to kill others of their own. Meaningless bloodshed over some barren lands.
She pocketed the last of the papers and took the time to smooth her cloak so she wouldn’t scowl at the council, openly at least.
“Your last assignment?” Two said in a gentle reminding tone that she wished the others tried to mimic, at least.
“The weapon?” she inquired, there were a few side projects they threw on her during the last meeting. Most of them were not even worth putting time into, like taking care of a –very supportive– noble’s pet, a freaking hydra.
“Weapons,” Two clarified.
She nodded back quickly. “Yes- yes, I managed to sift through the ruins of the Nexus, deciphering the ancient language is much easier now that we found an origin stone. That, and with what little knowledge we could glean from the commons’ myths, legends, tall tales, books from other countries-”
“Yes. Results.” Midnight patience seemed to be running thin.
“I- Sorry,” she bowed, again – gods, she hated bowing. Her lower back was not thankful for it, either. “There was very little to be considered truth, and much less that shows anything substantial,” and by very little, she meant there was nothing. They were insistent on this foolish project, instead of something more tangible, knowledge in the reach of hand… She did not need that kind of annoyance today, seeing how things had been going so far, “without more to go on-” she shook her head.
“The steles?” Six asked.
She frowned, “We are still trying to decipher the language, we don’t know where it originated, or if it evolved into something modern, but we were able to find similarities between it and Valenian. Between this and the rest of the projects I wouldn’t expect solid results within-”
“All your attention on this,” Six demanded, “hand over the rest of the projects to other people, or even better, drop the personal ones. Choose new project managers to handle matters monthly, allowing you more research time.”
“The library of- the Blacksands?” she blinked, “drop it?”
“All of the personal projects.”
“That is not fair,” she snapped out, “I specifically joined this accursed expedition to find the library!”
“Drop them,” Nine started.
“I should drop all other projects instead,” she turned her head towards nine, “it is my right.”
“You will do nothing of the sort, you are merely an insignificant cog,” Six said, “you would do well to remember your place.”
“And you would do well if you go and get fucked-” she turned, index finger pointing at Six.
“Deep breaths,” Seven interrupted in a sharp tone, his eyes on Midnight.
Librarian swore under her breath and turned around. Midnight’s glare was a bright yellow.
“I think Librarian might be a bit tired,” Seven said, “an understandable consequence of long, large-scale expeditions such as this one, without factoring in the location and hazards.”
She watched as midnight nodded in approval.
She nodded, too, while biting the insides of her lips. They were taking her projects away from her. Taking them in favor of things she cared little for. She bottled the feeling up and pushed it down.
“I shall overlook this outburst,” Midnight started, “Other members of the council shall do so, as well. On account of the… mounting stresses.”
She felt relieved.
“However,” he continued, “this one will be the first and last warning you will have.”
Librarian felt the cold sweat building behind her neck.
“As you command,” She nodded, croaking the words out.
“You may leave, for now, Librarian,” Midnight commanded, “we will discuss the possibility of giving you a much needed break, especially if there weren’t any definitive results regarding the last topic by next month.”
She nodded, turned around, and walked off the raised platform as the images of the councils fluttered out of existence, and into the mirrors that lined the walls. She watched as the figure of Five –slightly to the side of the stairs– was grinning as it faded.
The room was, once again, quiet, the mirrors fading after the figures did. Connection terminated. She stood still at the center, eyes slowly veering up towards the roof.
‘Drop them’ the words echoed in her mind.
“Just… fucking… great,” she lowered her head and walked towards the stairs.
She tried her best to blank her expression and empty her mind before she placed her hand on the door.
The mechanism took a while to respond, mainly because she wasn’t focused enough, but she found herself on the stairs shortly after.
She descended the stairs, her emotions simmering even as she tried to push them down.
‘Leave the library well alone,’ her mind mocked. ‘Leave the search for lost, forbidden knowledge.’
She was to stop her lifelong dream, her father’s lifelong dream, and his grandfather before him.
She was to stop the search and instead go and find some unknown, unrecognizable, fictional assortment of weapons, made by a civilization best described as mythical.
Stop the search and figure out how to turn children into… divine knows what, with the magnificent results of only ninety fucking three deaths, and one failure, whatever that meant.
Capture and find a more horrible menagerie of magical creatures-
The abyssal howled as she walked near it.
She turned, glaring at the framed picture. It was of a serpentine creature, its ribs jutting out into hundreds of legs along the body. A large chitinous thorax extended off its back, ending in a scorpion-like stinger tail that coiled around the body, ending at the head, which was a new wonderful shape.
A man-fish-bat mix of features with four, large fangs jutting outwards, the throat lined with cactus-needles-like ones. A smaller face dangled from the chin, stuck to an umbilical cord.
The baby tell at work, here.
She pulled on the simmering in her guts, the frustration, the raw rage. Her hands grabbed the frame, she could not remove the painting from the wall, but what she could do…
The energies began to flow around her, light blue strands of magic, and into the painting. The scene began to change, from the watery ship grave that hosted the eldritch being to an infernal hell. The creature's features began to show an agonized cry.
“Do that, scream,” she glared, “Do it. One more time.”
She began sum
moning as soon as the abyssal moved its mouth. The creature manifested right into the painting –a Mage devourer– and did not waste a moment tearing into the abyssal, which couldn’t fight back at all.
She watched the eldritch being writhe, bleed, and suffer —Different pictures, much like snaps than a thing that is happening right in front of her— until the mage devourer began feasting on its energies, the abyssal eyes did not stop staring at her while it was fading away.
It screamed.
“Fucking. Abyssals,” she hissed, taking her hand off the frames.
She would regret this the next time she would come here, this… fit of a tantrum. She wouldn’t be surprised if all the paintings turned into abyssal creatures in abyssal backgrounds to accommodate this outburst of emotions she displayed.
She would regret it the next time she is here. If there was a next time.
But she did not feel she’d regret it today.
She resumed her descent, watching as the other paintings faded and hid away.