Vick, the book, is regarded as a mystical treasure. Vick gained sentience a long time ago, manifesting feelings and impressions more than anything you would describe as intelligent. Vick did not spontaneously gain intellect or magical powers but instead was drip-fed magic by various students and was soaked in it. Vick, like so few, had been born from magic itself.

Vick was not just magical but a developing magician. As time passed, he became more complex, learning and thinking with whoever held him. Whoever read from Vick was read back.

It wasn’t until he found himself in the hands of a small girl that Vick had read anyone who loved books with such a mindless drive to collect and safeguard. Vick, for the first time in his existence, had a want. He wanted to help her, and his decision to do so had cemented his budding potential and awoke his own talent.

***

Alice knew she was small for her age and would do her best to mind her business whenever possible. However, she must remember the safe route and will go out of her way to relieve people of their burdensome books. If they couldn’t be responsible bookkeepers, she would be.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

People these days just don’t care about books like they should have. People couldn’t be blamed during war times, so Alice would forgive them for the book’s maltreatment.

Today was no different. Alice walked through back alleyways searching for scraps. In this alley, she found a man who had passed. It was sad, but Alice had gotten used to it. But there in his lap was a book bag, which she promptly pilfered.

“OI brat! Come ere, an I’ll teach ya a lesson bout stealin!”

She ran; it wasn’t the first time she had to. For whatever people didn’t have time for, they still found it to kick you while you were down. She consistently outpaced the adults and even some of the other strays. Kicked out into the cold, you did whatever you needed to.

Rounding corners of tall buildings, scum puddles, and people, she made her way to the only home she had left. Alice ensured the coast was clear before scampering up the side of the building and through the window overlooking the Thames.

It was all left of someone else’s life, but it was a life of reading and art. Some poor soul left it all here to waste away, while another marched to death. And here she read through the piles of books, slept in the night, and ate when she found enough to save.

She opened her pilfered bag and found it full of useless baubles and trinkets here. The book cover was faded, worn, and sad-looking. To her, it seemed to have been read by a thousand hands, and she may be the last. With great care, she opened the cover and was confused.

Hello, would you like to learn magic?