“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”
― W.B. Yeats
Chapter 1
-The Forbidden Library And What It Holds-
----------------------------------------
The sound of the ATM expelling the last droplet of my savings account is one excruciating to hear. All the money I got from my last two jobs is summed up to that after paying the last of my debts with the orphanage, just enough to buy me a cigarette and, with luck, pay for my move to the last bus station in my plan. Somehow, taking buses without caring where they would end up was not one of my brightest ideas, and it was fun until it wasn't.
Damnit, this freedom is not exactly what I hoped for. But not many options were presented to me; after all, I just completed eighteen, so it was either to get a job with one of the associates of the orphanage, or, more specifically, one of their friends from the local church. The problem is, I would make a terrible nun, I'm sure. Or I could just leave to try my luck elsewhere; the choice that I took without thinking twice, I don't want anything to do with them if possible.
The darkened old LCD screen displays a message: "Thank you for your preference; have a wonderful day.". Grabbing my wallet, I rest the money in between the leathery peeling folds, gazing at my objective, the gas station store on the other side of the street, just waiting to take my money.
I look both sides, making sure to see if no cars will appear from the darkness of the street; 'it's midnight', I remember. This makes things easier, keeping in mind that the streets will be empty and so will the bus station; that gives me the possibility to take five before moving on. In any case, if the need to sleep becomes too much, I can sleep on the bus; I just have to be careful not to end up in another 'god knows where' location.
After crossing the street mindlessly, I walk to the welcoming, bright, white lights of the convenience store. One push and the glass door opens, making an annoyingly loud bell hang atop the door ring, making sure to trigger in my tired brain an immediate response of nausea that is somewhat alleviated by the gentle AC blow.
The clerk, a man about my age, is on his phone, only glancing at me as I step closer to the cash register, where he sits on an old and uncomfortable-looking office chair.
"Welcome to the Cots Store; is there something I can do for you?" The young man asks in a trained speech, hiding his boredom with a forced clerk smile.
I grab the money and put it in front of him—the exact quantity I need for the cigarettes I'm looking for. "You have any Rosa cigarettes?"
"Yes, but first I'll need to see some ID, Miss."
That's about what I was expecting, so without losing any time, I hand him the ID that was just baked some hours ago, so I can still see my tired face in it. He examines it, looks at me, and then back at the thing before grinning and returning it to my hands. "Just at the nick of time. Were you waiting for midnight to strike?"
"You could say that," I answer, trying to brush away his poor attempt to strike up a conversation. Taking the cigarette and stuffing it into my backpack, I look around for a bus map or something like that, finding nothing at first glance. "The nearest bus station; can you tell me where it is?"
"You know where the train station is?" He waits for me to nod my head or shake it, and once I let it be clear that I don't, he continues. "Follow the field path until the end, and then find the dirt path; once there, walk forward until you end near the train rails; the bus station is on the path from there to the village."
"Thanks," With my wallet and things in the right places, I adjust my backpack and stretch my arms. "Good night."
"Good luck, miss; I can see you'll need it." These are the last words I hear before stepping outside; in a strange and almost mocking tone, there was no need to be an asshole because I didn't entertain his boring shift. I let it slide away as my focus become solid on getting to where I need to go—out of this hell hole.
Green fields extend all over me as I walk; the path I follow is a little less boring the moment I climb the low stone wall and try to keep my balance, with arms extended like a bird to keep me from falling. The moonlight reaches and illuminates little of the way forward, not enough to give me a proper vision of all my surroundings. No streetlights, no Wi-Fi on my phone, no service too—what is this end of the world? I put my phone in my pocket and turn on the flashlight mode, which helps me with the task of going forward on the wall.
One thing bothers me though: the cold wind makes my hair stand on the edge, forcing my paranoia to scream, which makes me turn around. The gas station that I just stepped out of five minutes ago is gone on the horizon; the bright light it emanated is gone like it never existed. Wasn't it supposed to be open until a little later? Not that I need to be bothered by it, but it's just straight-up creepy. The lack of street lamps here makes it all the worse.
What is more creepy than that is what happens when I try to return my eyes to the path ahead. For a single second, I could swear bright red circles like eyes were staring at me, and that's all I needed to lose my footing.
*Thump*
The grass and flowers do little to ease my fall as the sock of the impact against the solid dirt reaches my head, feeding my headache some more. Vision becomes blurry, my arm hurts from withstanding my whole weight and the height I fell, the recipe for the worst luck possible, and to add to it, my phone stops producing light, just to add some salt to my disaster.
I force myself to my feet painfully, cleaning the dirt hugging my long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans. In the process, I grab my phone to check on it, and, not to my surprise, the screen is looking like a poor attempt at art made by a seven-year-old. If only I had heard the store seller who sold me it when they said to add a screen protector to it. This makes me wonder if I should turn back now; maybe there is still time to take a bus back and accept their deal to work as a nun.
"No, there's nothing there for us." I start talking to myself to calm my nerves as best I can. "Besides, we can do this; we just need to keep going, and I'll think something out; I always do."
... "There is nothing there," the wind whispers, too realistic to think it is a trick of my tired mind. My instinct makes me try looking rapidly at the sound source, but upon doing it, something hugging my leg stops me forcefully.
Black, gooey something climbs my leg, and in the moment I try analyzing it, forcing my vision to get used to the dark as fast as it can, the multiple, impossible, uncanny red eyes of the creature open, as well as a smile with more than normal teeth to seem like an animal. "...Stay; you don't need to think-"
The slap I give the creature is one that surprises even myself, and upon being given five seconds to rethink, it surely was not one of my greatest decisions; it flies away a few steps before stopping completely, going full silence. Without losing time, I use the chance to start running aimlessly away from it, as I won't risk my life on the pretense that I'm getting crazy this early on; I'm only eighteen.
Feeling the cold air against my skin as I run is refreshing; the freedom it entices, as I could just jump and take flight from far, far away from this devilish country, is a dream I always had. This time, unfortunately, the way my heart rate increases, the river of sweat that builds up on my forehead, and my breath getting out of control only serve to be nightmare fuel for my now utterly scared mind.
I don't even get the chance to think if that was real or not, as the creature from before rises from between the trees that I just passed, only now much bigger and pissed off than before, like a hungry wolf made of slimy liquid with red eyes hunting me down like the last rabbit in the world. I'm forced to dodge when the creature leaps at me, clearly making sure to let me know it is faster than I could ever be. The bite I was supposed to get misses by a few inches before it collides with a tree, splashing like a ballon before slowly getting back together in a disgusting display of horrors beyond my comprehension.
To my relief, a big house makes itself known from between the trees, and once my eyes fall on it, I run as fast as my legs can with all the pain. I try stopping myself before reaching the door, but it's like stopping a car at high speed; I crash against the door and feel it not moving even an inch, unlike I was hoping. Hollywood lied to me; of course, it isn't easy to force a door open with your hurt shoulder and slim build.
My recomposition comes quick as adrenaline shoots up in response to the creature's distorted howl nearing once again. With my fist, I knock on the door desperately, trying to open it and kicking its bottom for good measure, but all turns out to not be in vain. The sudden shadow projected against the door tells me that something is blocking the moonlight from reaching me, and that something is pretty obvious behind me.
Before I turn around, though, the door I'm leaning against opens without notice, making me fall on my back half inside the place. The sound of a cane draws my attention off the thing and redirects it toward the mysterious figure standing beside me. Eyes red as a bleeding heart, unlike the beast's, this one doesn't carry a promise of danger—at least not one I can feel.
But focusing on the person's face is something that surprises me. At first, it looks like a mask made out of a raven's skull, but that is until I look more closely at its eyes. That's no mask.
"Spirit of the night, hunter of the lost; lose yourself in the night, away from this soul, once lost, now found." The 'person' recites poetically, the air coming from the forest shifts. It lunges, the creature tries to grab me regardless of those words, only being stopped as the air thickens and shoves it back to the forest, at first little by little, then completely, stealing its form away until all that's left is that initial glob of black mass I saw before.
"Girl with the smell of freedom, your luck stands tall on this unholy night," The monster offers their white-gloved hands to me, locking their eyes on me curiously; at least, that is what I prefer to think instead of going with the 'found my dinner' alternative; that is one future I'm not looking forward to.
In the end, the choice between running away back to where that thing can skin me alive or facing the one who, at least for now, doesn't seem to want to kill me is one easy to decide on. Firmly, I grip the monster's hand and allow them to pull up to my feet.
"I..." Should I ask what just happened? I don't know; maybe it's not the best time. "Thank you." I settle for those two simple words, permitting the truthful smile to bend on my lips.
"Hum..." The monster seems to become fascinated with me, looking at my hand before I take it back and place it securely in my pockets, where it can warm up. "Curious little thing, allow me to offer you the hospitality one deserves after a terrible encounter with the unforgiving night."
There are moments in life when you find yourself without a road to follow. This is me right now; the adrenaline from before leaves my body and, quickly, forcefully, a cold pain settles in my bones. This is to be afraid, for real. Even if I wanted to try my luck to reach the next bus stop, I'm sure I wouldn't be able to do so safely. Oh, world, one more choice to take from me, and yet, nothingness is what you give me back.
"I'll accept your offering... um, mister?" I leave it at that to see if they can offer me an answer.
"Yes, I forgot; humans grip themselves strongly to the concept of gender. Excuse me," They reach a hand for my hair and yank out a strand of it. It doesn't hurt as much as it surprises me; it only worsens my surprise when they take the strand and simply eat it, like literal nothing.
Instantly, the raven skull that is their head begins to become ash, ash that dirties the old wooden floor of this place and hides itself in the cracks of the wood, becoming part of this place probably forever, or until someone deep cleans the wood. A face emerges from the ephemeral skull, sharp yet soft facial features, eyes still red as roses on Valentine's Day, and small, thin black horns adorning the tied-up hair, which is the same color as the eyes. Now that I stopped to really look at them, they use a lot of red in their clothing, like the long wine-red overcoat paired with a black scarf resting behind the coat lapel; the scarf with on its end a strange type of symbol; black formal pants and a white formal shirt beneath a red button-down vest the same color as the coat.
I notice a cravat wine tie holding a shiny ruby in the middle; it reflects the light of the light bulb illuminating the front entrance of the place. Her clothing is the type of formal that screams royalty; it even makes me straighten my posture in her presence.
"You can call me Milesian, human; now, if you crave a bath to revigorate yourself, you'll find a room on the upper floor that you can take for tonight; the only door near the end of the attic leads to the bathroom; I'll see to getting you a warm meal in the meantime."
The choice to refuse her kindness is not given to me as Milesian takes her leave and walks downstairs, giving me a moment to study this place before going for the promised bath. A library, is what this place resembles; to my right, a small couch with a coffee table stays near a bookshelf filled with books and some flowers; to my left, a librarian's desk, with no one standing behind it to ask me if I want a library card.
A bifurcated staircase in the center guides me downstair, to more bookshelves and doors unbeknownst to me, leading to places I can only imagine at this moment. The smell of old books is something that I didn't know I missed before this moment; it reminds me of the small and uncared-for books in the orphanage. I remember the day they gave them away to the church and how I cried, begging them not to do it. No one listened, of course, and so what I did to spend my free time was gone.
Finally, with all I can see without actually moving in my brain, I decide to let the information sink in as I take the stairs up.
Cozy but filled with dust, heavy-looking boxes trap the way leading to the window. About furniture, there isn't almost any in this attic; the only one is a table paired with a wooden chair. I decide to look around for the bathroom, finding it as instructed at the end of this place. Placing my backpack down, I take out my extra pair of clothes and slowly open the door, being careful with any spiders or bugs as, clearly, this place hasn't seen a broom in some time.
The pitch black is over as I blindly hit the switch in the wall. Small and simple, the wooden-designed bathroom for now doesn't show me any bugs, so I take a deep breath before placing my new clothes atop the sink, sliding down my pants, and soon undressing myself fully and putting the dirty clothes near the door folded neatly.
Warm water fills the bathtub as soon as the knob is turned; it takes a second to really work, but when it does, it's like magic; steam rises and enters my nose, cleaning my nostrils and granting me a true deep breath for once in some time. Bliss is all I can describe when I place my aching feet in the water, dipping them down enough to feel the slippery surface below—something that helps me when the wait to drown myself in it becomes too strong.
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
The water climbs up until it reaches a stopping point in my shoulder blades. Muscles relax, my heart slows, and soon I feel like I could just let myself sleep here. I fight the tiredness, placing my knees up close to me and seeing the scrapes on my knee, covered by drops of dry blood that stop more from escaping my body.
A soap bar, my eyes fall on the object near the bathtub corner, and without hesitation, I take it and thoroughly wash the wound, soaking in both the water and the comforting silence. The process takes about five minutes, then five more to wash my hair, but shortly I'm able to finish my bath and get that promised feeling of relaxation I sought.
My wet feet wet the floor. I step on as I move towards the sink, grabbing, in the process, a towel resting near the door—something I hadn't noticed before. I wrap myself in the towel and wipe the steam from the mirror so I'm able to see my face. It's only the first day, and I get what Sister Frida said about how the world would get me down to my knees and make me beg for mercy. It wasn't to be taken lightly; I'm only noticing it now that some of the light has returned to my brown eyes, making them look less like dry mud; that or being away from Sister Frida made me healthy. Damn life sucker, she always knew how to ruin the moment.
What takes more time to dry is my hair. It has grown much since last year, when I was still working in the construction zone and had to cut my hair to look like a boy so I could avoid being harassed by those creepy dudes. The worst part is that I liked how it felt after some time, but the shoulder-length cut suits me more. At least with my body now all warm by my clean clothes and only some droplets of water in my hair remaining, I leave the bathroom and go back downstairs, even if I don't want to prey more on the kindness of Milesian; I also don't want to risk pissing her off, so I won't say anything against either.
Back at the library, I look around in search of Milesian but find no one around, so I make myself comfortable on the couch and find some books resting atop the coffee table. With nothing to do, I decide to pass some time by organizing them in alphabetical order. Taking the time to read the names, most seem to be about biology, astronomy, and one or two are about romances involving knights and princesses; someone is classy, it seems. One, though, stands out among the rest; it has no name on the cover, and only a number adorns its detailed spine: V, or at least I assume it is from the Roman numerals.
A strange feeling involves me; I don't know if it is because of the calm ambiance of the quiet library that compels me to be on a reading vibe or if it is something else completely; regardless, I lose no time in thoughts and focus my eyes as the tip of my fingers bathes on the texture; they feel like bedsheets that have been coated and stiffened with starch, old, ancient even, like an authentic Shakespearean book; those aren't even my words, but the ones from a librarian I've met when I was fifteen and on the look for a job; she loved to talk about books, sometimes for hours in a roll; maybe that's why I started loving reading stories and learning things I would never have otherwise, to begin with.
Words, all scrambled and hard to read, and yet, I'm able to see a path between the gaps, where the words connect when my eyes unfocus even in the slightest. Moving my gaze around the pages like a practiced dance, I'm able to find one thing that I can read without risking vomiting over the book; the title reads: 'Queen of the Faeries'
"Come follow, follow me; a grain of rye, a grain of wheat; within this circle on the green, hand in hand, let's dance around; come follow me, your queen."
I mutter the words to myself as I read, as I always did since I found that reading to yourself makes you lose yourself more easily in a good story; the blue light otherwise is something that never happened before; it sways and flies around me, alluring me to the touch, bringing a shine to my eyes I never felt since I was a small child, watching stars through a dirty window. I extend my hand to the light, allowing it to rest atop the palm of my hand instinctively. Once it does stop, the light starts taking form; it reveals itself to be a small creature, having eyeballs as black as fresh ink and a red, glowing iris in each. It also reveals a pair of bird-like feathery wings attached to its shoulder and a pale shade of blue as its skin color; it feels cold to the touch, like holding on to an ice cube.
Bob hair with bangs hiding one of its eyes, the creature yawns slothfully, rubbing its eyes with their small hands before, finally, looking at me curiously.
"Were you the one who called me here, miss?" The creature, resembling a small girl, asks while making herself comfortable on my palm. It hurts to hold her, burning for the first few seconds as the Tinker Bell-like creature moves. Once she finally finds a comfortable position to sit with her legs crossed, the pain diminishes.
"I would like to believe so, because if I did, this would be awesome. To summon a cute thing like you—not just that, but to see a fairy firsthand—this means magic is real." With my free hand, I reach for the top of her head with my index finger and attempt to gently pet her head, something that she allows, even resting her small head against my finger. "Holy, this is the strangest day ever—monsters in the forest, a lady with a skull head, and now I'm holding a fairy."
The fatigue of the day seems to get to me; my eyes become heavy, and my skin feels cold, so much so that I start shivering even if a second ago it was warm. I hug my clothes close to me and brush away my fatigue, if only for a moment, choosing to focus on the magical being in front of me.
"You're so warm, miss; I'm glad. Now we can sleep together through the whole season." The fairy yawns and lays her head against my finger, using it as a pillow so softly that I don't even feel her moving; actually, I don't even feel the burning from before anymore.
Footsteps become loud in my ears, making me try looking at the source, and I find my body not cooperating as much as expected. Her form is distorted, like seeing through distorted glasses.
*Crack*
With her hands, Milesian breaks the thing that was distorting her form, giving me a look at the area around me. Flowers of ice grow on the couch, and some ice shards keep me comfortably seated down, holding my body in place. The lack of feeling from before now makes sense; my whole body is numbed by the cold.
Milesian looks at the table, grabbing the trapped book from the frozen surface, exactly at the page where I was reading. She looks at me with no real expression on her face, as once again I gaze at the raven skull with red, piercing eyes.
"If this is her first spell...Not bad." She seems to mutter something to herself that I can't quite understand by the sound of my teeth shivering, and before I can even attempt to say anything, my vision withers away, giving in to a tiredness I never felt before.
Time seems to pass—not enough to cure the sleepiness that takes over me completely, but at least the warmth I feel soothes my muscles, providing me enough energy to open my eyes. A window near me indicates that it is still night as moonlight shines through. I feel my body against a surface so soft and warm that I'm unable to not snuggle close to the warmth... Strangely, it feels awfully like I'm sitting on a person's lap. As I move my lazy eyes to check, a voice speaks, reacting to my movements.
"Your actions, although not smart in nature, are impressive on their own, girl." She speaks, looking at me with her raven skull head so closely that I can feel the red light in her eyes reflect on mine, as I can't help but feel embarrassed and slightly shy to react more than freezing in place—an action so unlike me that, for some seconds, steals part of my thoughts.
"Wha, what happened? I felt so tired all of a sudden."
"The fae you summoned, you lost control over your magical energy and overfed her; that's the reason why you felt tired; all of your energies were transmitted to her." I watch as Milesian takes the fae from my shoulder and places her on the coffee table. Now I see that we are still on the couch from before. "She will sleep now that she has enough energy stored for hibernation."
Focusing my eyes beyond the fae reveals to me the blooming winter flowers on the wood cracks and the ice shards embedding the sides of the couch, stabbing the fabric to the point that it looks like a wild cat tried to make it its new toy. "I'm sorry for reading your book without asking for permission, and sorry for your couch too."
"Your worries about this matter are not needed, nor are your apologies. I'm sure Loa will enjoy the excuse to sew the damages."
"I have only one question left," I feel Milesian hold on to me as my ability to feel things slowly returns. She holds me close enough so I can feel her curves against mine. "Why are you holding me like this?"
"What do you mean? When humans feel cold, sharing body warmth is a common practice, isn't it?"
"Well, yes, but it too can be perceived as a very... intimate action between two... close individuals."
Milesian seems to take a moment to think before rising to her feet, still carrying me like a child in her arms, something that manages to make me even more embarrassed than before. She takes the stairs down and walks closer to a bookshelf among the many circling these walls. Her hands linger on a book before pulling it out, revealing its title to me: Mountain of Eternal Winter by J. Rowe. Her fingers leaf through the book until she stops on a specific page, showing it to me.
'The blood moved along her body, leaving the extremities and traveling to its last destination, the center of all remaining warmth resting in her chest. The blood moved as if it were alive, like a creature following the script of life: instinct. With no live creature miles from her to hear the screams her frozen throat wishes to be able to let go, she finishes her cigarette, throwing at the snow and watching it disappear, one more thing stolen by this mountain alongside her engine; she returns to the car; that was her last cigarette. Slamming the door shut and taking once again her daughter in her arms, securing the sleeping baby in the warm motherly embrace, providing the most effective way to keep a creature as tiny as a newborn from the unforgiving cold—the only thing that she can do at this point. The smoke from before provided enough warmth to restore part of her ability to speak, and so she hums, her voice cracking and clicking, and yet, the peaceful melody serves to keep the peace of her child and the sanity of her mind away from the winds who seem to bash against the windows, begging to enter, offering eternal sleep with nothing but darkness beyond the veil.'
"You know I'm not a kid, right?" I ask, unable to hide a small grin from forming on my lips, finding that now, with a little more context, I am less embarrassed and more grateful, seeing that the nature of her action comes from a good place.
"I understand that you are what they call an adult in your species, correct?"
I nod my head, climbing out of her arms and feeling the soles of my feet against the floor, as well as the slight weakness in my muscles because of what happened before.
"Come with me; the soup made for you should still be warm enough." Milesian walks me towards the other side of the stairs, an open place resembling a living room—a big one. There are lots of bookshelves here, as expected at this point, as well as two sofas on the edges of the room and six chairs alongside a long, dark wood desk with, atop it, a bowl with a steaming liquid.
I make myself comfortable on the chair in front of the bowl, and Milesian takes the opposite seat, grasping a teacup in her gloved hands. It's strange the way she drinks; she needs to open her beak and slowly fit the cup in her mouth, tipping it downwards so the liquid washes down, allowing her to drink. The soup smells delicious, and with no time to waste, I dig in, taking the spoon beside it and doing my best to appear composed in front of her, but with little to no knowledge of eating etiquette, I probably look like a kid.
"As I stated before, you conjured a spell most would take years to be able to, and you didn't need to use an item to connect yourself to the roots of the magic. Too, your magical energy seems to be dense enough to allow that and to regenerate at a rate faster than expected from a human." Putting down her cup, she stares at me with such focus that it makes me drop my spoon into the rest of the soup. Luckily, it is not enough to fully be engulfed by it, allowing me to take it out easily. "I've never met a human that wasn't appointed to spy on me before, and not one as interesting as you. I believe you have enough potential to be worth the trouble. If it is in your interest, I would like to make the offer to teach you magic, and in return, I'll only ask you to stay here with me."
A strange request, that's for sure; if it were anyone else, this kidnapping scam would be obvious, but the situation and the way she speaks—a mature and emotion-devoid voice—for some reason, I don't feel any bad intentions from her. From a thing with horns, I would expect a contract that would take my soul or, worse yet, give away my humanity.
Lowering my head, I lock my gaze at my reflection on the soup. A no-one, good-for-nothing child, ungrateful brat—that's what most people used to call me. I was never something; I was always just an average kid in school, poor in heart and in money. Who would give me even the chance? That's why I stopped trying to be something. A feeling never felt before; even the emotionless voice in her still holds meaning; she thinks I'm something. If she's lying to me to take my organs or whatever, I can't tell, but I either risk this or I can try braving the dark streets that, now with the knowledge of what lurks in them, make me uneased and, perhaps, a tiny bit afraid.
"Perhaps you would like some time to think about the deal." Milesian finishes her tea and nods her skull head to herself. "If so, feel free to stay the night, and tomorrow I'll show you around the village to help you see what this revolves around. If, in the end, you decide not to accept the deal, I can arrange a ticket so you can take the train to the city and have not wasted your time."
"Yeah, I would like that." I give her a small smile and finish the soup, putting the bowl to the side.
"Then it is settled; please do rest for the rest of the night; I'll retire too. If you need me, I'll be down here enjoying a book." Milesian rises from the table and gives me room to breathe, something I'm grateful for; it allows me to let my thoughts organize themselves. I decide that for now, it's best to take my leave and rest before the sun rises, so without losing time, I walk past Milesian as she grabs a book and returns to the living room. Up the stairs, back to the attic, I locate a mattress on the floor with a flat sheet bigger than it, allowing some of the material to pool around itself and be softer, as well as protecting me from the cold floor if I move around too much in my sleep.
I grab the two pillows and adjust them before kneeling down on the mattress and simply falling to my side, not even having time to think before the darkness revolving around my sleepiness takes me away.
----------------------------------------