As an assistant librarian, Conor was tasked with learning how to catalog, organize and maintain the library's collections. He also ensured that the library's collection met the needs and interests of its users. Although it was rare for visitors to come to Preben’s personal library, Conor was still happy to do his work.

When he wasn't doing these tasks, he kept Preben’s office organized and clean. Conor put items like papers and manuscripts back into shelves and storage containers. Whenever Preben was not using his study, Conor dusted, swept the floor, and wiped the table surfaces.

Once he had done all that, he relaxed in his corner undisturbed, enjoying the comfort of his favorite place.

One day, Conor noticed that the flowers in the vase on Preben’s desk had wilted. They had been fresh flowers, their vibrant yellow color complementing the thick, brownish wooden desk. Unfortunately, after some time, they had dried up.

Preben didn’t usually keep flowers or houseplants in his study. However, one cloudy evening, he brought in a bunch of flowers tucked into his coat, explaining that an acquaintance had given them to him and asking Conor to prepare a place for them. Over time, Preben amassed a collection of indoor plants.

Conor felt that the flowers in the vase should be replaced. So, on a cold, windy day, he ventured to a flower shop in the shopping district. As he looked at the selection, Conor kept hearing a melody. The sound was pleasing to the ear, carrying him away. He mentioned the tune to the florist, who frowned as if she didn't understand what Conor was talking about.

Conor returned home feeling comforted and stress-free for the entire day. This continued every time he went to buy flowers, until his curiosity finally led him to seek the origin of the piece.

In the town square, he found the source. There stood a girl in the center of the plaza, playing her violin alone, untouched by the surrounding crowd. Conor was transfixed as he watched her skillfully handle the instrument, producing a fast-paced melody from her performance.

Lost in the moment, Conor clapped as soon as the music ended. The girl glanced back at him, lowered her violin, and carefully placed it inside a case resting at her feet.

"That was great," Conor said, smiling shyly at her. He wasn't accustomed to greeting strangers, having spent most of his time inside the library. But there was something about the music that captivated him, making him forget his usual reservations.

"You could hear me?" the brown-haired girl asked, pursing her lips in disbelief. Conor didn't understand what she meant, but nodded in response.

"I could hear it from far away, and I really liked it," Conor explained. "Do you always play here?"

The girl slung her violin case over her shoulder. "Mmh... yes," she murmured to Conor.

Sensing she was about to leave, Conor felt compelled to keep the conversation going. His heart raced, not wanting it to end there. "Ah—I’ll come to hear you again, and the next day—and the day after that!"

"You really like my playing, don't you?" the girl said.

"Of course!"

"Cecily," she interjected.

"Huh?"

"That's my name." Cecily briefly looked at Conor as she began to step away from the plaza. Conor was stunned, mesmerized by the violinist's presence as she continued speaking before leaving entirely.

"See you next time I play."

That was a long time ago, maybe two to three months earlier, but Conor always sought opportunities to see Cecily again and listen to her play the violin. He eventually learned that Cecily wasn't playing for the crowd, but for something deeper that drew her to the town square.

Once, as Cecily finished playing that afternoon and the clock tower in the square struck 12, Conor couldn't help but blurt out, "You're perfect." His chest tightened, the cold wind adding to his unease. He remained rooted to his spot, staring at Cecily with strained eyes.

Cecily herself remained quiet momentarily after Conor's declaration, her breathing calm as she returned her violin to its case in an inexplicable silence. Then she spoke, her tone almost accusatory.

"Hey, if you were faced with an important task that was difficult to do, would you still do it?"

Conor blinked, taken aback. "What do you mean?"

Cecily pressed on, looking up at him but avoiding his eyes. "Would running away be better?"

Feeling compelled to respond and not wanting to disappoint her, Conor replied, "It depends on the price I have to pay for it." He thought it was a logical answer at the time. Cecily, for a moment, reacted with a brief gasp, followed by a wry smile.

"Yeah, yeah, you’re right," she acknowledged. After that exchange, they fell silent, and Conor's memory of their interaction became hazy. He wondered if Cecily had said something more during that meeting, but he couldn't recall. Perhaps it wasn't important, or maybe Cecily hadn't said anything else at all.

But still, running away from responsibility was a tremendous mistake.

That was in the past, but as Conor walked through the streets of Elision, he couldn't stop thinking about Cecily; her dark brown hair tied back with a red ribbon, her large light gray eyes, and the way her violin played straight to his heart. Whenever he saw her, it filled him with elation.

The streets of Elision were bustling that afternoon. Conor navigated through the crowd, carrying his suitcase, passing by the crisscrossing wooden high-rise buildings and shops selling sweets and other goods. It was a bit of a hassle to maneuver through the shoppers and chatter.

The sound of water splashing beneath his feet led Conor to the town square, located at the center of town. There, a gathering of people, food vendors, and balloon sellers were visible. Disappointingly, there was no sign of Cecily among them.

Conor scanned the area but Cecily was nowhere to be seen. Normally, she would be in the town square playing her violin from about half past noon until noon. Was Cecily sick? Conor tried to ask, but when he inquired with a nearby balloon seller, the response caught him off guard.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"Violinist? No violinist showed up today or yesterday."

Conor lingered in the square, thoughts filled with Cecily. Perhaps she was just running late or had other things to do. Eventually, he realized he couldn't wait any longer and had to head to the exhibition. Time was ticking, and being late for Conor was not an option. He would have to find Cecily another time.

Leaving the bustling square reluctantly, Conor walked until he reached the Elision auditorium building where the City's Annual Exhibition was held. The order to construct the building with its domed roof and stained glass ceiling had been issued by the King about 25 years ago.

Conor presented his invitation to the guard at the door and entered through the wide-open doors. Inside, a considerable crowd had already gathered. Rows of tables covered in embroidered fabric were arranged with numbered signs where participants displayed their exhibition materials. Antiques, new inventions using orakhorite, beautiful paintings, and exquisite gems and jewelry adorned the tables.

So engrossed was Conor in observing the displays that he didn't notice he was colliding with someone.

"Oh, sorry," Conor apologized, turning to face the man and bowing politely. "I didn't see you there."

"It’s alright," the meticulous man adjusted his suit and regarded Conor. "First time here?"

"Yes, it's quite an experience," Conor replied.

"Make sure you don't get lost," the man advised, likely one of the exhibitors. Conor smiled appreciatively.

"Thank you, sir." With that, he bid the man farewell and resumed exploring the expansive auditorium.

The venue was magnificent, adorned with intricately carved pillars and alabaster statues on every side. Despite the rain drumming on the auditorium roof in the late afternoon, the enthusiasm of both visitors and participants remained undiminished. The official proceedings had not yet commenced, presumably awaiting the arrival of important guests.

Amid the bustling crowd, Conor spotted her.

Conor couldn't have been mistaken; he knew her well. A girl with thick, wavy brown hair tied half-up with a red ribbon, her face familiar and dear to him. Her shirt was slightly loose and untidy, paired with a skirt and tight thigh-high pants. Conor noticed a large rose-shaped tattoo on her left thigh, something he hadn't seen on Cecily before. What struck him more was the absence of Cecily's violin case on her shoulder, and he couldn't recall her ever mentioning anything about going to the auditorium. Yet, Conor didn't dwell on these discrepancies.

Driven by an impulse he couldn't explain, Conor hurried through the crowd, heading straight for Cecily. She kept walking ahead, seemingly in a rush. Conor trailed behind her, weaving through the crowd, wondering about Cecily's recent absence from the town square.

Cecily turned to a narrow hallway, likely leading to the staff quarters. Conor continued following her, his mind strangely unfocused. He moved mechanically, oblivious to his surroundings, his gaze fixed solely on the girl in front of him.

Then, suddenly, there was an explosion, followed by a violent shockwave. Hundreds of glasses shattered, roars were heard, and loud screaming erupted from the crowd.

Cecily halted abruptly, as if she had sensed Conor's presence long before he approached. Amidst the chaos of people shouting and growling sounds echoing through the auditorium, Conor heard a voice from Cecily's direction.

"You came."

What happened next was so fast that Conor couldn't process it at that moment. All he could see was Cecily standing before him, and all he could feel was a sharp pain as a sword pierced his body.

The suitcase Conor carried fell to his side as Cecily withdrew the sword from Conor's body. She glanced at the books scattered from the suitcase, then approached and reached for Preben’s signature book. Though not before Conor's hand weakly grasped at her arm.

"Don't, Ceci—" Conor winced, one hand pressing the wound on his torso, the other gripping Cecily's arm firmly. He recoiled in pain. "What are you—"

"—Why are you still alive?" Cecily said coldly, closing her eyes before sighing. "A follower of the specter shouldn't be alive, especially not in his dominion." She attempted to push Conor away, but his grip on her arm remained strong, fueled by stubborn determination.

The building shook again, debris falling from the ceiling around them. The sound of destruction filled the air.

"Are you the one who summoned them? Or is it him...?" Cecily's voice softened. Conor struggled to comprehend her words, feeling increasingly dizzy and weak.

Now, the girl's once mesmerizing presence seemed distant.

"I need to have this." Cecily glanced at the book near Conor's feet. "Give it to me."

"No!" Conor gasped. "I... promised!"

Cecily shook her head, disappointed. "You don’t know anything. Besides, your death is coming. If only you would—"

"You can do anything to me, but I won't give up this book!" Conor released his grip on his wound, grabbing the book at his feet. As he began to flee, something unexpected occurred.

The wall separating them from the hall in the auditorium's center suddenly collapsed, revealing an unknown creature of chaos. With a swift movement of its tail, it hurled Conor aside, then impaled him with its sharp tip.

No scream escaped Conor's lips, only searing pain enveloped him. Fire erupted from behind the creature, engulfing them both. Cecily stepped back, frowning deeply and closing her eyes in silence. Before disappearing from the scene, she uttered softly,

"I'm sorry, but at least this way, you’re no longer bound by fate."

***

Outside the Elision auditorium.

Tallulah Ergarye stood right at the entrance, not too far away. She smirked, observing the frenzied display of svatghir attacks that disrupted the exhibition. Like she was really enjoying the commotion.

"You can come out Deda—see, this is fun!"

Dedacorsus the Zestful appeared next to Tallulah. Tongue clicking in annoyance.

"What are you saying? This is boring as hell, I didn't even summon them!"

"True," Tallulah said, "but all of this is in line with the Great Oracle's prophecy." Tallulah guessed. "Do you think the spectraopsis is still in there, or was it destroyed during the attack?"

"Who knows?" Dedacorsus replied. "The important thing is that if one is destroyed, the rest will soon be revealed, and the Long Forgotten will come out of his hiding place."

Tallulah grinned. "You're right, this makes it easier for us. Besides, with you I can definitely have my wish, because you're my best specter." Tallulah's gaze was sharp and meaningful, her voice syrupy and contrived.

"I am your only specter." Dedacorsus rolled his eyes. Everything that came out of this girl’s mouth was always nonsense, why the Imaginarium Foundation sent her to do this Dedacorsus would never understand. Summoning specters as a familiar required a large supply of eyr as well as a strong Mystic Ordinance, which judging from Tallulah's appearance, it was not as if the girl had either criteria. But here she was, successfully making a pact with Dedacorsus.

Dedacorsus ruffled his hair, the night air was not warm enough for his eternally fiery being. But it felt nothing compared to the commotion and fire going on inside the building in front of him. Dedacorsus muttered.

"As long as the book is destroyed, I'm game."