The Library of Light

The next day, I brought up heading to the library. Soltair paled the instant he heard the word 'library,' and gave some excuse. So, I ended up going alone, following his instructions, of course. Which mainly consisted of "Stick to the main corridors," and "Don't follow anyone anywhere."

The Divine Throne was a sprawling mess of buildings and passages, but important places, like the chapels and library, were easy to find. It was its own building within the complex, surrounded by a narrow courtyard but towering above my head. It was a few hundred feet tall, equaling the height of the Great Chapel. Statues of prominent priests and mages surrounded its four entrances, with small plaques detailing their contributions or donation.

"Welcome!" a priest in brown robes said as I entered the library. His expression froze when as he got a good look at me, especially my tail, which swished in excitement. "You must be the… hero… I've been hearing about."

"Good to meet you. I'm Xiviyah." Although the constant surprise and disgust were a bit wearying, I planned on coming to the library too much to risk making an enemy.

"I see," he said, scratching his chin. "And what brings you to these hallowed halls?"

As I looked over his shoulder, the sight made my mouth drop. Similar to the Great Chapel, the only ceiling was the roof, which filtered light through layers of stained glass. The library was an enormous dome, with hundreds of bookshelves spiraling around the room. Although the room was open, I counted five floors. Each layer was like a giant ring attached to the dome, ascending until it reached the ceiling. Dozens of priests wandered about, conversing and studying at the various alcoves and tables. My keen nose twitched at the smell of musty paper, accompanied by the constant drone of paper rasping together.

"Amazing, isn't it?" the brown-robed priest asked. "We call this the Library of the Light. Not just for our devotion to the Sun God and pantheon, but as a symbol of knowledge. Thousands of years of knowledge and experience are gathered here, much more than any one person could hope to comprehend in a lifetime. You may call me Thron, the chief librarian. May I see your pass?"

I Wordlessly handed him the pass Selena had given me, still staring around the library. There had to be millions of books! The dome itself was fifty feet wide at the top, let alone the base, with every available space lined with shelves. Magical lights filled the room, dancing over tables or bobbing up and down on bookshelves.

"All seems to be in order," Thron said. He turned to another brown-robed priest and beckoned him over. "Take her to the third floor. And please, mind your manners."

"Yes," the priest said, bowing his head. "I am Davin."

"You, come," he said stiffly, beckoning me forward.

I followed him closely, but he never so much as looked at me, keeping his eyes glued ahead. We got on a magical platform that ascended the dome like an elevator, which ascended just quickly enough to lift my hair.

"Follow me," Davin said, stepping off onto the third floor.

A narrow guard rail was all that separated us from the hundred-foot fall to the ground. Looking up, I gulped, imagining what the highest floor felt like. Walking around the circular level, we passed large swaths of bookshelves labeled with different magic fields. Sun was the largest, containing thousands of volumes and hundreds more scrolls. Dozens of mages traversed the shelves or sat within the small alcoves, giving the section a lively atmosphere.

We finally arrived on the far side, and the priest pointed at the smallest section yet. The shelves were dry and dusty, looking as though years had passed since they'd last been cleaned. I could make out the word "Fate" carved on the edges, barely discernable under a thick layer of dust.

"If you have any questions, please find a brown-robed priest," Davin said, turning smartly and marching away. I got the feeling he meant anyone other than him.

Taking a deep breath, I wandered through the dozen or so bookshelves until I found the first-circle section. That wasn't hard, considering it was larger than every other section combined. Guess no one got around to anything higher than that.

"Isn't this too much?" I wondered aloud, blowing the dust from a few covers.

"Indeed, it's quite a shame."

I jumped, startled, as an old man seemed to appear right behind me. He wore dark gray robes and had an impressive bald spot that covered all but the sides of his head. Thin gray hair trailed to his shoulders, and countless wrinkles wore into his face. His eyes seemed to have missed the memo and were a startling blue, sparkling with keen vigor.

"W-who are you?" I asked, stumbling back again the bookshelf.

I winced as a book pushed against my back, digging into my flesh. He chuckled, reaching out to steady me.

"Careful, young one. Many of these books haven't seen use in decades. Who knows what a little horseplay would do to them."

I bowed my head and steadied my nerves. "Sorry. You just appeared so suddenly."

"I've got a habit of doing that, it seems. At least you weren't like that other fellow. Falling over a railing from something as small as this…"

I shivered and looked to change the subject. This guy was scary! "I'm Xiviyah, the Hero of Fate."

"Xiviyah, is it? He mentioned a new ninth-level caster, but I wanted to see it for myself. The gods truly sent us a demonkin, it seems."

I flinched as he reached out and pinched my horn, sending a sharp tingle down my back. "Please, don't," I said, pushing his hand away. It was leathery and wrinkled, reminding me of a bit of sandpaper.

"It's not often I see a Demonkin alive. Are your horns really that sensitive? And how much control do you have over your tail? Could you pick something up with it? I've heard demonkin vision is especially sharp. Does it work in complete darkness?"

I blinked at the sudden barrage of questions, unable to keep up with the unending flow. Wait, could my tail actually pick something up? He took my moment of hesitation as discomfort, and backed off, taking a deep breath.

"My apologies, young one. Sometimes, my old mind wanders and I lose control. Allow me to offer my services as a gesture of reparation. Please, call me Lysander."

"Lysander? What kind of services?" I asked warily.

He smiled, a peculiar light dancing in his eyes. "You came to learn magic, right? Ask away."

"That's okay," I said, "Selena already taught me about magic."

"Selena, is it? I remember her. small elf, maybe 50 years old? Has a strange knack for slime magic? Or was that the other one… eh, those were the times," he said with a sigh. "But I can't imagine an apprentice like her has much to share with you."

"I don't think we're talking about the same person. Selena's an adult elf, probably a few hundred years old. Also, she's one of the magical instructors, not an apprentice."

His eyes widened. "Really? Time has a strange way of changing people. Regardless, don't let this opportunity slip you by. Surely you have some questions about magic."

Taking a seat on a nearby chair, I thought for a while. "If you insist, I guess I have a few questions. What can you tell me about Fate magic?"