Lillith

  It’s good to be in a library again. Not a little bookshop, but an actual, honest library. It’s a little hint of a life I left behind a long time ago. The hallways of books, the smell of paper and the hum of respectful silence. The gooseflesh I’ve been wearing for weeks seems to calm for a moment as I sit at one of many quiet tables in quiet corners. Across from me, Sarafyna flips through a book, gently brushing her auburn hair behind her ear as it gets in the way. It is a gentle moment. The kind of no significance that I know will live with me until I die. She is beautiful and the world is calm for a moment. For a few hours, I don’t have to think.

  About the fact that I need to ask her to go back and check on the Potestians. About Leo, who we still haven’t found. About letting her leave my sight. My protection. About the risk of waking up happy and hearing, second hand, that someone I love has been dead for days. A moment where I can live in the radiant warmth of Sarafyna’s presence. I do need to ask her to go back, if only for a little while. I do. I’ve needed to for days. But . . . I can’t bring myself to. It’s funny. I can sacrifice myself again and again. I can risk my own death. I can lose my limbs and my fucking heartbeat. But once I realize I have to be separated from Sarafyna again. Risk losing contact with her again. I am still so, so selfish. I am still not strong enough to really risk what I care the most about. I have to tell her to go back. I have to.

  She purses her lips as something in the book she is looking through irritates her. It’s adorable. I love her. I have to tell her. I have to ask her to do this. I am too selfish to get the words out.

  “Alrighty, I got a few more of the books you were looking for!” an enthusiastic man exclaims, somehow sounding loud even while whispering. Orangish mana, not unlike mine, drops several dozen tomes next to our table. I grimace as I look up at the librarian, an apparently enthusiastic fan of the sages.

  “Right, thanks,” I respond. “If you don’t mind, you can bring half of them to the other table, for my friends.”

  “Oh I already did that! This is half. Sorry about that, but you did ask for everything we have on the sages after all!” Sara and I both glance at the mountain of literature and wrinkle our noses.

  “That’s . . . a lot,” Sara laments and I bite my lip. On the one hand, it looks exhausting. On the other hand, it is an excuse. An excuse to keep spending a moment of calm with Sara. I don’t know whether to feel relieved or weary. I suppose both.

  “What do you need all this for anyway?” the librarian asks. I pick a book from the top and blow a very thin layer of dust off of it.

  “Fanfiction,” I intone, without looking up. Somehow, I still feel the man light up with joy.

  “You too?” he asks eagerly. Oh. Perhaps an ill-advised lie. I venture a glance up to see his eyes wide open and sparkling. I actually think it would be charming, if his enthusiasm wasn’t for some of the slimiest creeps to ever bury their shit on this planet.

  “. . . yep,” I confirm, forcing a smile. “Me too.”

  “Oh, tell me when you’re done! I’d love to exchange stories, or I can even give you feedback as you work on yours, if you want. Do you want to read mine now?” he practically pleads. I am about to turn him down, but I shrug after a moment’s consideration.

  “We’d love to,” I agree and he practically jumps out of his boots with joy.

  “Oh, I’ll be back in a while. Will you still be here in an hour? Oh why am I asking, look at these books, of course you will! I’ll be back, I have to run home to get it! You can ask the other librarian if you need anything while I’m gone! In the meantime, I recommend the autobiography of Nathan, the Fortress Sage. Great revenge story. Good luck!” he gushes, turning on his heel and practically skipping away before I can answer.

  “Is fanfiction what it sounds like?” Sara asks in confusion. I scratch the back of my head.

  “Uh, basically. His own stories he made up about the sages,” I answer.

  “And you agreed to read his because?” She pushes. I sniff.

  “Well, we aren’t going to make it through all of these this year. But if you want detailed and thoroughly researched information about something, there is no one better to go to than a fanfiction writer. And there is no one who will answer such questions so passionately. Honestly, the guy could end up being incredibly helpful,” I respond.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  “Oh, that makes sense. Kind of makes me feel bad for him, though,” Sara says. I scoff.

  “When the sages are gone I’ll introduce him to Pokémon. Put his enthusiasm into something more positive.”

  “Is that something from your world?”

  “Pokémon transcends worlds.”

  “I’m sure. I guess you’ll just stroll back to Earth and grab it for him, then?”

  “Yeah, got a problem?”

  “No, not at all. Grab me something while you’re there.”

  “Maybe I will. Get you one of those translucent sun visors.”

  “If you keep joking about those I am going to make one and force you to wear it.”

  “If you made me one I would wear it with goddamn pride and you know that.”

  Sara fails to hold back a laugh at this and a Volo woman a few tables away gives us a sharp look before shushing us. I choke on a laugh of my own. “I know you would, Annie. Come on, let’s actually get something done,” Sara says. I sigh as reality calls me. Right. We are looking for weaknesses in the most powerful people in the country, so we can murder them one by one. I offer a melancholy nod of assent before opening the book in my hands and beginning to skim.

  Hours pass by like this. The librarian does, in fact, drop off his fiction which I agree to read. I spend most of the time learning about the sages and Nexus energy, with brief breaks to chat with Sarafyna. I do learn a lot. Nexus magic is actually highly specialized. Each sage can do a little of everything, but most have one specific thing they kick ass at that the others don’t. At least the major ones do. There are actually a large number of sages in the history books that amounted to very little. Some nexus talents are more common than others, and they tend to have similar weaknesses. For instance, mind control. Apparently common among sages, but often fails when the subject of the control is touched. That’s an almost nostalgic thought, in a macabre way.

  “Oh Jesus, get a load of this fucking guy,” I practically spit. Sara looks up from her own book with weary eyes and raises an eyebrow, inviting me to explain. I’m flipping through the autobiography of Nathan, the Fortress Hero. The same book the librarian had suggested. One of the more important ones as he is currently in a prominent position in the republic government, which takes priority over Council sages or already dead ones, who I am reading about last.

  “Alright, so the sage shows up from his own world, fully in his body rather than reincarnated like me. Most of these losers seem to be, actually. I’m growing more and more curious about my own reincarnation the more I read . . .” I trail off, getting a little distracted.

  “What makes him special?” Sara asks, refocusing me on what I had been saying.

  “Oh, right, sorry. Alright, so, as you may have guessed from his title, his talent in Nexus magic is focused almost entirely on defense. Big old walls, force fields, shields, that kind of thing. He’s one of the least susceptible to other sages' influence as well as mana. Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked again. The point is, he is good at protecting a lot of people at once from any kind of damage. Gonna be a real pain in the ass, truth be told. But the way he tells his story is just . . . the most obvious bullshit I’ve ever heard in my life.

  “This guy shows up in this world, during a time when the sages are already widely revered, with the specific ability to protect people. The safest sage to be around, provided he is as kind as he would have us believe. This takes place in one of the playgrounds, I think, if I am reading this right. Anyway, he has this entire story about being betrayed, slandered, 'forced' to buy slaves who end up enjoying slavery. All sorts of justifications for some pretty gross behavior.” I explain. Sara gives me a look of disgust, before I offer her the book and she peruses the page I have open.

  “What does this name he uses on this woman even mean? Wait, never mind, I don’t think I want to know. How much of the story do you think is true?”

  I hold one hand flat and wobble it back and forth. “Eh, some probably. It’s either made up entirely just as a pure fantasy, or this fucker is guilty as sin. I’m calling it now. Story doesn't really hold water in any case. No one really gained anything out of ‘smearing’ him but, and if it is a playground this makes sense, he would get something out of the story. Flimsy justification for buying slaves, too, I guess. Either way it’s all just one big power fantasy. I feel like I need a shower after just reading his smarmy ass book.”

  Sara wrinkles her nose. “Not as lovable a character as our librarian friend implied, huh?” she guesses.

  “Well it's not really the librarian's fault. Taken at face value, I can see why he would be a fan of this story. This man, actually. It's not that different from my own story in a lot of ways. If you don't know about countries like Potestia, if you haven't witnessed them, most of it isn't so bad. Except, you know, the slave bit. That's fucked regardless. But knowing he arranged for all this? It just feels like a fantasy about putting lessers in their place. So yeah, this fuckin' guy is going to the top of the murder list. What a slimy little creep. He goes right after your friend, Rune. The Scholar Sage you said? The one whose stories are much older than fifteen years, by the way. Can’t wait to find out why he looked like a child to you. I bet I’ll like that story just as much.”

  “Works for me. I’m happy to go after both of them, if you like,” Sara agrees. I am about to look back at my book when she reaches one hand out to touch mine. “Annie, I think we have read enough for the day. We should get back to the inn . . . we need to talk.”

  My still heart sinks. I was a coward for too long. I am terrified. I am relieved. I read the entire conversation in her eyes. She isn’t going to make me ask. She is just as smart as I am. She knows she needs to go back too. But I don’t want her to go. I don’t want her to go.