The other two librarians pulled Gwyneth from beneath the toppled bookcase and fallen books, yanking on one arm each—a method that Gwyneth didn’t much approve of.

She brushed herself off, decades of accumulated dust having now coated her robe. ‘We must never speak of this,’ she told her two employees, without daring meet either’s eye. ‘If anyone were to discover what occurred here…’

‘The order would be a laughing stock,’ Ruben replied.

Gwyneth nodded, though she couldn’t help but notice that tone of wry amusement that was so typical of Ruben. Could she trust him not to tell the other man down at the local tavern? If news reached as far as the town, there would be no hope of controlling it.

‘Clean it,’ Gwyneth snapped, pointing at the falling books. She began to stroll with purpose towards the basement steps.

‘Oh? And what will you be doing?’ Ruben asked, as though it was her fault that these three adventurers had destroyed the interior of the library. In Gwyneth’s eyes, it was just as much Ruben’s doing—as well as those terribly slow shadow magicks he insisted upon using.

‘Order business,’ Gwyneth replied, and hurried down into the thankfully untouched basement. Here was where the truly powerful books were kept, where Ruben had borrowed his spellbook from, and wherein a very particular book was stored for safekeeping. Gwyneth scoured the Worldbending shelves, finding the book in question covered in a thick layer of dust that spoke to the years since its last usage. This particular book contained spells that didn’t bend the landscape, but people. Rather, it bent memory.

If Gwyneth was to survive this humiliating incident with no word getting back to the order, it was her employee’s memories that she would need to fiddle with. This wasn’t the first time—that rather embarrassing incident last century, involving a discarded banana peel, had been the first—and Gwyneth was sure it wouldn’t be the last.

She skimmed to the page in question, marked by a folded page. This was a habit she allowed herself only for the most vital of information; normally she would not dare mar a book in this way. She reached within herself, grasping her not inconsiderable mana reserves, and focused her attention on the two fellow librarians upstairs. As she started whispering the spell, their forms glowed within Gwyneth’s vision, and as she concentrated on the events of the last few hours, she saw these glowing forms re-enact those humiliating moments.

In an instant, the memories were gone. The fellow librarians would not be able to speak of Gwyneth’s failings, for they would have no idea that which had occurred here.

Gwyneth drew in a deep breath, preparing herself for a stream of questions that would surely be forthcoming when she appeared once more.

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But when she returned upstairs, she found that she had more visitors, and her two colleagues were staring blankly at them.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said to the rather surly-looking human and orc. ‘We’ve had enough visitors for one…’

Gwyneth trailed off when she noticed the body the human had dropped in front of him—that of the old man on the other side of the village. The one who had considered himself an expert in… In that moment, Gwyneth couldn’t quite remember.

‘I asked you where he went,’ the man repeated, turning his hand upside down and summoning a ball of fire within it.

‘I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know who you—’

Gwyneth’s colleague didn’t have a chance to finish that sentence. The apparent sorcerer pointed his fireball-wielding hand towards her, and within a moment, Gwyneth only had one colleague.

‘You next,’ the human sorcerer said, turning his attention to Ruben. ‘Where is he?’

‘Where is who?’ Ruben asked, his eyes on his colleague’s fallen, charred body. ‘I don’t know any “Styk”.’

‘Really?’ the sorcerer replied. ‘I thought watching your friend die would have done the trick. We know he came here; the old guy told us. So start talking, or…’

Ruben began to speak the words from his spellbook, but he was not quick enough; at the click of the sorcerer’s fingers, the book went up in flames. He had no shadow magicks left at his disposal.

‘Where is he?’

‘Where is who?’ Ruben repeated. Poor man, it wasn’t his fault.

The man very slowly drew his hand, fingers splayed, and pointed it in Ruben’s direction. ‘Last chance.’

‘I don’t know who—’

A stream of fire erupted from the man’s hands and enveloped Ruben. He only screamed for a second.

Gwyneth found that she couldn’t move, but it wasn’t the result of any kind of magicks. It was fear.

The man fixed his eyes upon her. ‘I’ll only ask this—’

‘They didn’t remember!’ Gwyneth suddenly blurted. ‘I erased their memories!’

‘Ah, so you still remember, at least?’

‘I… I… I…’

‘Spit out,’ the orc growled.

Gwyneth gulped; there was a question she had to ask first. ‘What assurances do I have that you will leave me alive if I tell you?’

The sorcerer responded by waving his hand towards the bookcases and releasing fire upon them. Their contents—the protection of which was Gwyneth’s solemn duty and life’s work—began to burn. ‘You don’t have any. But do you think buying time is helping your case?’

‘West!’ Gwyneth squealed. ‘I saw them running west! I don’t know any more than that, I swear. I swear!’

The human looked to his orc accomplice and nodded. Just as they were turning to leave, Gwyneth risked another question. She had to, for the sake of the books.

‘Please, will you… Will you extinguish the fire?’ she asked.

The human looked at Gwyneth, tilting his head as though considering her. There was a moment, while the fire crackled and spread, that the librarian thought he might do as she asked.

‘No,’ the sorcerer said, and turned for the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Gwyneth couldn’t afford to waste any time. She rushed for the exit the moment it swung shut. If she didn’t, she would fall victim to the smoke before much longer.

As she reached it, it too erupted in flames.