“So, breathing AND moving?” he said at the conclusion of her story.

“Yes,” Ana told him as they walked.

He didn’t seem to know how to react. But that was fine; neither did she. And however much she tried she didn’t have a firm memory of having visited Elm Park before the war, and so she only had his word for that strange arch. In light of everything else it was just bizarre enough to fit into the overall picture.

“Crazy,” he said. “This is all crazy.”

The large man shook his head, wearing an expression of exasperation that bordered on desperate amusement.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe we should have a look at some history books while we’re there,” Petyr suggested. “I honestly don’t know much about the city’s past. Maybe... no. No.”

The rain was less brutal than it had been the night before, but the streets were still slick and riddled with puddles. Ana had her cheap old umbrella up, but there was not much it could do for her feet. She’d offered Petyr to share it with her but he’d declined, settling for facing the rain with the wide-brimmed slouch hat that had come out of the charity box. Despite having made the offer she was rather appreciative for a bit of space.

The street was largely empty. This wasn’t the worst kind of area to be found outside of the Jungle, but it still bore the marks of poverty in cracked sidewalks, windows repaired with cardboard or nailed over with planks, and peeling paint. And there had been a supposed blowout over in Fields, between the police and the populace. Even with her limited exposure to people since then it felt like the city was holding its breath. There was a tension in the air and it would have to be released some way or other. When the weather calmed down, who knew what would happen? That very uncertainty probably had a hand in the tensions themselves.

“We’re here,” she said, and pointed to the dull, easy-to-miss sign.

Older, Better Books, it read simply, that length of wood above a small, cramped-looking storefront nestled between apartment buildings. A selection of titles was on display in the single window, although the lighting did little for them.

“Do you know this place?” Petyr asked as they walked to the door.

Ana considered the question as she closed the umbrella, but didn’t reach a proper conclusion in time to avoid being awkward.

“A bit,” she settled for, then led the way inside with the umbrella under her arm.

Normally she didn’t care for bone-dry air, but it was a welcome change from the rain as Petyr closed the door behind them. The place had that incredibly distinctive air of old paper, which she could never think of a comparison for. Appearance-wise, the carpet was heavily worn and a dull, ugly green colour. What little was visible of the walls consisted of plain, brown wooden panels. The rows and rows of books spoke of an honest attempt at neatness and organisation, but simply not enough space to fully pull it off. Every shelf was completely full, the tables were stacked and beneath them she could see a combination of cardboard boxes and woven baskets, also mostly full.

“Good evening,” said the middle-aged woman behind the counter, lowering the book she was reading.

“Good evening,” Ana said, and took the lead on this little investigation. “Are you open for much longer?”

“I am open for however long I want to be,” she replied. “It really makes no difference where I am as long as I have a book. And I am always happy for a bit of business. So go ahead and take your time.”

“Thank you,” Ana said. “But we are in fact looking for something specific.”

She took the book jacket out of her coat and handed it over.

“Does this look familiar to you? I was hoping to find an actual copy.”

The woman took it and examined the front, the back, the spine and the interior.

“No publisher, no editor or author, and no number,” she commented. “Are you sure this is from an actually published work?”

“I am... not,” Ana admitted, and felt her heart sink a little.

The store owner looked the jacket over some more, seemingly taking note of the decorative pattern.

“Look... I actually think I might have seen this before,” she mused. “It’s... look, you might try the mythology and history section.”

“Mythology AND history?” Petyr commented.

“The two are cousins,” the woman said. “It’s over there; on the left side of that corner.”

“We’ll look,” Petyr said.

“Thank you,” Ana said again, and followed the man through the narrow floor space left by tables and bookcases.

A plain piece of paper had been taped to the top of each case, and three of them were marked Mythology and History. The space shortage had affected this section rather badly. Two of those baskets lay on the floor, and many of the shelves had horizontal stacks in front of the vertical ones.

“Meet you halfway?” Petyr suggested.

“I’ll start with the baskets,” she replied.

“Let me make it easier for you,” he said and picked each basket up with one hand, placing them side-by-side on the nearest book table.

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“You really are quite strong,” she commented as she nudged one, feeling just how stacked it was with old paper.

“I try not to boast,” the man replied and turned his attention to the top shelf on the far left.

The search was about as exciting as she had expected. She took a book out and stacked it next to the basket if it was too big or small to match the dust jacket. If it did vaguely match she glanced inside on the slim chance that a jacket had been put around the wrong book by some mistake. Then she selected the next one, and so forth.

Petyr slowly traced a finger across the selection before him, conscious of the possibility that a small book might slip in between two larger ones and out of sight.

Ana finished the baskets, carefully put their contents back in, then began at the bottom of the far right bookcase. As she rushed through titles and estimated the width of spines it occurred to her that there probably was a lot of interesting reading to be found here. She allowed herself to briefly dream of having the time to come back, selecting an entire bag’s worth of reading material, then going home for an easy time. But what time did she ever really have? Her conscience was already pricking at her for engaging in this long shot, while Kylis was still lost and Sanctuary was no doubt gathering new problems for her to manage.

She was nearly to the top shelf when Petyr finally turned her way.

“Say, Ana... what do you think of this?”

He had a book in his hand. It did look to be the right size, but the jacket was a different colour and decorated differently. But it did sport the title they’d been looking for.

“A different edition, maybe?” she suggested, then took out the battered dust jacket. Petyr handed the book over and she experimentally fitted the familiar jacket over this other one. It fit perfectly.

“Let’s look inside,” she said, and turned the first page.

Just as the dust jacket, there was no name, no number, and no publisher listed. Just the text itself. It was rather ornate, and written in large letters. It showed figures, symbols, buildings and gatherings, but in an oddly elaborate, artistic style that made identification tricky. Looking at the images felt a bit like trying to make sense of a dream after one woke.

The letters were so big and the pages were so heavily decorated with rows of flowers that only a few sentences fit on each page. All the same, Ana leafed through the book slowly, taking her time in absorbing the text, and Petyr showed no sign of impatience.

There stood a grand city, ruled by wisdom and knowledge, blessed by the Powers High. Built of white stone and bound in marks of power and protection, it stood against the Abyss in all its insidious forms. Within the Circle of Stone was the Circle of Water, and within the Circle of Water was the Circle of Spirit, and at the very centre stood the great tower. There hung the blessed bell, whose chimes rang every morning, driving all evil away. From the spires one could see the distant Harrow Mountains, whose peaks tested warriors during their trials, and the Fields of Parron, whose fragrance and beauty was fuel to poets.

For this jewel championed the spirit, through art, expression, love, architecture, song, and all the pleasures of the senses and of the soul. All this was championed, to contrast with the evil against which the fortified city guarded.

Ash giants, the Great Serpent, the Unborn Legions, the Company of the Withered Eye and other horrors assailed the great city. The King Clad in Bones cast a baleful eye towards this centre of power and wisdom, and yet it endured, guarding the crossroads on which it stood.

Protecting this bastion of mankind were great champions; those who gave their lives over to service, and earned power beyond other folk. They proved themselves time and time again against the enemies of mankind, and in their deeds of protection and aid. But of all the city’s foes, the Deceiver never could be brought to justice, and he never faltered in his mission of calamity. He waited, and he laid plans, and he gathered knowledge.

One day came the Unborn Legions, yet again issuing forth from the Dark Rift. The city’s soldiers and champions went forth to meet them, and this was when the Deceiver struck, with great cunning and great malice. As its protectors were distracted, the city fell. The Deceiver delighted in his masterstroke, and the city’s memory is lost. The bell hangs silent, and the King Clad in Bones laughs in the Void.

That was it. There were a few more pages but they were blank. Ana even tried holding them up against the nearest lightbulb, hoping for some kind of a secret message and feeling like a fool.

“Sooo...” Ana said. “Does this mean anything to you?”

“I’m not sure,” the man replied, in a soft, contemplative tone that made it clear the real answer was being worked on.

“Is it... do you think it’s possible that the underworld I found is a part of ruins? From an ancient city that inspired this? I...” She grunted with frustration. “Why does this feel familiar?”

“Just don’t suggest reincarnation and I’m happy,” Petyr said.

“Are you, though?” Ana asked.

“Well, no.”

She stood there in a state of indecision for a few seconds, then walked to the counter.

“So you found what you were looking for?” the woman asked.

“Maybe,” Ana replied. “I don’t suppose you can remember where this came from?”

She put the book on the counter and the woman examined it briefly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she then said. “But I get so many books in here.”

“That’s fine.”

Ana paid for the book and walked out the door with Petyr on her heels. She stuck the book next to the beat-up dust jacket and opened her umbrella.

“So... that is that,” Petyr commented as he found a decent spot beneath the awning.

“Yes. Even if I’m not sure what ‘that’ is.”

He made a noncommittal noise and stared off into the rain. Ana did some gazing of her own, and let her gaze wander between the various spots where lights reflected off the rain-slick street and sidewalks. Under other circumstances it might all have looked rather pretty.

“What do you want to do next?” he eventually asked.

“I don’t know. I will have to think about it. And Sanctuary... I will have to hold it together, through whatever is going to happen next. Ugh. I’m so damn tired, all the time. What I want is to take a trip to the countryside; just be a little selfish for once.”

Her conscience scolded her for those words, but that didn’t make them any less true.

She sighed.

“What about you?” she asked, to shift the conversation a bit.

“If you want, I’ll walk you home.”

“And then what?”

“Then...”

She turned to look at him as the silence stretched on a bit. That contemplation was still there, but it was joined by a hardening determination.

“Then I’ll rest,” he went on. “Recover my strength some more. “Then, well, tomorrow night I’ll do something dumb. But maybe it’ll work.”

“I almost feel like I’d be better off not knowing the details,” she commented.

“You may be right.”

On something of an impulse she reached out and put a hand on his arm.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I don’t know. But maybe it’ll work.”

She let her hand linger for a few seconds, silently wishing him the best. Then she stuck it back in her pocket.

“Well, there is no reason to linger.”

“I suppose not. But... thanks. For dragging me away. You may have saved my life. Thank you.”

“It’s what I do.”