Mira woke to the scent of antiseptic in the air and cotton beneath her fingertips.

She gagged; disinfectant always had a way of getting to her in the way that most smells didn’t. It reminded her too much of hospital wings, the scent that clung to the backs of paramedics like porcupine quills in skin whenever they needed to barge into her house to resuscitate her father. She could hear it in her head, the beeping of a steady heart monitor that would lie to her about her father’s health. The hiss of air through a tube.

Only to find that the sounds belonged to her.

The beeping on her left was for her heart. The hissing her oxygen tube nestled just beneath her nose.

Mira’s stomach twisted in discomfort. Where the hell was she? The last she remembered, the room she and Magic were in had been ambushed before the flames engulfed the whole thing. She remembered the smoke, the height of the flames, the screams and desperate cries for help from her brother beside her.

Heavens, where was her brother? He was with her. Mira’s heart thudded against her chest at the thought of separation. He was all she had in the mountains and if he’d gone and kicked the bucket on her watch, she’d never forgive herself—let alone know how to explain that to both of their parents.

She needed to leave. Mira was about to throw the covers over her aside and go searching when something wet nudged her elbow.

At her bedside, despite his enormous size and shaggy fur, Jeralt was pressing his chin into her hip, nudging at her arm with his nose which was soft and cool against her skin, which she’d just realized was searing as though she’d been sunburned.

Mira blinked. Had the goats saved them? “Jeralt,” she started, “how did you—?”

“I let them in,” said another voice, high-pitched and edged with steel.

Standing in the doorway was a woman about a head taller than her, dark black hair cut short just above her shoulders. Like the other Subsidians Mira had seen, this woman was as translucent as the rest of them, but she could see even from her spot at the bed that the other girl was exhausted. Dark circles born of fatigue stood out against her chalky skin and her eyes, despite their cloudy white film, were intense. As if she’d been waiting for Mira to wake up the entire time she was standing there.

“The goats were determined to help after we set them free,” continued the woman, confusing Mira’s blank stare for something else. “So they offered to carry you both.”

Both. Mira sat up straighter, nudging Jeralt’s muzzle off to the side. The goat huffed and stomped one of his hooves, but didn’t complain further. “Where is he?” she asked. When the stranger only raised a brow, Mira went on. “My brother. Where is he?”

“In another room in the library,” the woman said. “He’ll be fine. I left Soma in the room to do what she needed. In the meantime, you need to stay here.”

“Says who?”

“Me. I’m the one that treated you two. I know what injuries are still healing.”

“And I know my limits. I’ve had my fair share of pain.”

The woman rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath in the same language Mira couldn’t understand. “Is it just the two of you?” she asked. “You and your brother?”

“Has been for at least a month,” Mira replied.

“He has my condolences. You’re a stubborn one.”

Mira rolled her eyes. “Look, I don’t care much for your quick observations about things I already know about myself. Tell me where my brother is—”

Snappy one, said a voice, the noise of nails against wood approaching through the doorway. As soon as it stopped, a man paused just behind the hallway, lingering as if he were afraid of being anywhere in the surrounding area. You will have your hands full.

“I know that, Soma,” said the woman. “And that work would have been far easier if somebody had done their job.” She shot a pointed glare in the man’s direction and Mira almost missed the small flinch in the man’s posture.

A small scoff from nowhere. That has passed, miz Vesza, it said. What can be done now is what matters.

It was then that Mira understood.

She was the Celez Vesza. The Divine Vessel.

The woman she and her brother had been looking for. Which meant that the man lingering in the hallway who looked like he could melt into the shadow of the doorway was none other than the librarian himself who denied her. It took everything Mira had in her not to flip him off.

Told you so, she thought bitterly.

“Go to the other room,” Jovie said, waving away her companion—the one Mira could see. “Check on the other. Bjorn shouldn’t give you an issue considering who’s directive he’s following.”

Val hesitated in the hall. “Do you want me to grab you if he’s awake?”

“Only if he gives you a hard time.”

Mira almost laughed at that but held her tongue as the librarian made a hasty retreat from the area. They’d find out the hard way, she supposed.

After a moment of silence, Jovie sighed and motioned to the edge of Mira’s bed. At first, nothing happened. Then the covers crinkled; nothing appeared, but Mira could see the indentations in the mattress as if something small had seated itself there. “Val tells me you can hear them.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Straight to the point, this one, Mira thought. “I don’t want to talk about anything until I can see my brother. I won’t go through this without him.”

“He isn’t awake,” Jovie said. “Not yet, anyway—”

“That doesn’t matter to me. I want to see him, because if he wakes up and realizes that we came to some groundbreaking conclusion without him he’s going to be pissed. And trust me, you do not want to get on my brother’s bad side.”

The Scepter narrowed her eyes, intense and bright despite their film. “Sight is a matter of candidate and Spectacle,” she said.

“And this is a matter that involves both me and Magic.” Mira patted Jeralt’s shoulder and nudged him into turning. The goat did as she asked while she plucked monitors off her fingers and pulled away the covers to find her clothes missing, replaced with a thin blue shirt and baggy, but equally thin, pants. She’d have to eventually replace her outfit—or find it—because the scrubs she’d been given wouldn’t do. They were a fashion disaster.

Mira was about to hop onto Jeralt’s back when Jovie shook her head and held out a hand. “Feram,” she said. “Fera—Stop. Just … fine. But don’t complain to me when your limbs are aching and your skin burns.”

“If you think those are going to cause me issues,” Mira said, lightly pushing Jeralt away with her foot so she could get off the bed, “then you greatly underestimate my tolerance for pain.”

Jovie said nothing after that, but Mira could tell she was annoyed. It showed in the shake of her head, the scrunch of her shoulders and the sigh she let out when they dropped. “Soma,” said the Scepter, “let’s get going.”

As you wish, said the voice, miz Vesza.

The way the creature spoke, as though the line were rehearsed, gave Mira the chills. Yet she could hear the smallest bit of annoyance in the words that Jovie was either oblivious to or ignoring.

Jovie led Mira down a long, narrow hallway, the sound of Jeralt’s hooves and Soma’s pawsteps muffled by the carpet, its bright red fabrics rolled out for as far as the eye could see. From what she could recall of the main lobby, this section didn’t look remotely close to the rest of the library, a hidden sector filled with doors and wide enough only for two people walking shoulder to shoulder.

And Mira knew better than to walk anywhere near Jovie, not when the shadow of the creature beside her was taking long, confident strides, its chin tipped up, large ears out to the sides. Forked antlers sat in the center of the creature’s head, four prongs on each.

Mira slowed her steps, causing the goat beside her to match her pace. She pressed into Jeralt’s side and the beast shook out his head, fur dancing from side to side as he did so. Some of it got caught in Mira’s mouth and she sputtered, waving the strands away before patting the animal’s horns. “Good goat,” she murmured. “Sticking by me.”

Jeralt made a low sounding bleat and Mira found herself grinning. She didn’t think she’d grow to like the stubborn goat, but she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit to relying on the animal’s presence for support.

The room Jovie led them to was one of the furthest rooms in the hallway—four doors down from Mira’s and on the left at the opposite side of the hall. She braced herself and tightened her grip on Jeralt’s horn to find her brother sitting upright in a bed similar to the one she woke up in with his eyes closed. Bjorn sat at Magic’s right, huffing with his chin resting on the mattress and Vallian on his left, sinking into an armchair with his feet propped up on a stool as if he were waiting for Magic to wake up.

Which, judging by the way Magic was fidgeting with the bedsheets beneath his fingertips and the fast, but steady, beep of his pulse on a machine, Mira knew he already was.

Vallian lifted only his eyes, the white against brown sharp and intense. He opened his mouth to say something until his gaze fell on the ground and he pursed his lips, opting for silence as Jovie made her way further into the room, the shadow’s pawsteps trailing after the woman.

Mira pulled a seat over beside Bjorn, giving the goat’s coiled fur a gentle pet as Jovie and Vallian whispered to each other, words dissolving into murmurs. She gently prodded her brother’s arm and watched Magic flinch.

He was just awake enough. “Mags,” she said softly, “it’s me.”

“Smoke,” he croaked. “Smoke …”

“There’s no smoke—that’s oxygen going up your nose. Open your eyes.”

Magic squeezed his eyes tighter, face scrunched. When he relaxed, Mira watched his lashes flutter before she saw the color in his eyes, which were squinted against the light. He wasn’t all there; there was a glassy sheen in the green and hazel that made Mira slightly worried. Nonetheless, she was glad to see him awake and lucid enough to follow directions. Bjorn’s short, stubby tail wagged in a way that caused the entire lower half of his body to wiggle. The brute briefly stood on his hind legs before stomping his front hooves into the carpet.

Mira couldn’t help but chuckle as Magic placed a hand gently on the goat’s forehead as though he were willing it to be quiet or at the very least be still. Bjorn had other ideas; the goat, like an anxious dog, paced back and forth a few times before reaching his neck out to lick Magic’s face just below his freckles.

This time, Magic pushed the goat away with a bit more force. “Stop,” he said, and the animal listened, laying down on the floor with his limbs tucked towards his massive body.

“Don’t be too hard on him, Mags,” Mira said, patting the goat’s head. “I think he was just glad you’re okay.”

“I’m not okay,” Magic replied, his breathing far too quick for Mira’s liking. “My skin’s on fire.”

Discomfort settled over Mira like a weighted cloak. Magic hated contact, despised it more after the mining collapse because of what it did to his skin—or rather what it felt like to him. If her own skin had been scorched and burnt by the inn’s flames, Mira could only imagine what that physical contact felt like for her brother now.

Magic closed his eyes again. “There’s smoke in my nose that makes it hard to breathe. And everything burns. Mira, my skin is burning, I can’t breathe. There’s too much sound and moving hurts.” He tipped his chin further up as if to breathe better air, shoulders raised to push into what he could of his ears. “Get me out,” Magic continued, his voice wavering. “Please get me out …”

Mira almost reached out to try and grab onto his shirt sleeve, but something landed on the bed, springs creaking with a shrill scrape that made Mira wince and Magic whimper, curling into himself like a ball.

And then, something odd happened.

The air became heavy with energy, a low hum thrumming through the room that didn’t belong to man or machine. It resonated in Mira’s chest like a heavy bass sending vibrations through her bones and she could’ve sworn she’d seen blue sparks flicker in the space between where the mattress dipped and where her brother was curled beneath the covers. Serenity passed over Magic like a wave; his limbs grew less stiff, his face less anguished and, as he opened his eyes for the second time, Mira saw no glaze in them, no faraway stare that she feared.

When the energy receded, she glanced over in the direction of the bed weight and nearly jumped out of her skin.

From her place beside Vallian, Jovie was staring at them, her white eyes now a piercing aqua blue. And now, at the edge of the bed, was a dark blue mass, a mixture of blended whites and grays that looked more like an abstract oil painting than a living, breathing creature.

“It is more of a temporary measure,” said Jovie, her voice losing the edge, traded in for something softer, more … assertive. It felt almost out of place, detached in contrast to Jovie’s previously dull, but expressive, tone. “But it will suffice to dull the pain for now.”

Mira blinked. Magic assessed the front and back of his hands, rubbing them together with no indication on his face that the action pained him in any way. “What the hell…?” he murmured.

“I hope you do not mind,” continued the Scepter, “that I intervened. However, Jovie and I were in silent agreement that temporarily easing the ailment would be complementary to our efforts.”

Jovie and I.

Dread coiled inside Mira’s chest, stealing her air. “Who are you?” she asked, despite the answer being obvious in her head.

At that, the woman smiled and Vallian, who had been resting somewhat comfortably, quietly moved to perch on the arm of the chair. The Scepter, who was not Jovie anymore, walked closer to the bed, planting the heel of her foot against the frame of the bed.

“Call me Soma,” she said, bright blue eyes sparkling. “Resident Spectacle of Life and Rebirth.”