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"...shaman magic can be divided into several aura affinities," I read.

In this forgotten corner of the library, there's not a soul around. Not a sound. Only my voice and Loretto movements as fae keeps clearing the shelves, busy and focused. Were I to be stuck in such a place with a shaman, alone, just a month ago, I'd have freaked out, but now--my pulse doesn't even bother to shake my heart and suggest to look around. As though I've spent years in the Great temple already, as though this is the very place I should be. Time must be playing jokes on me again.

"Empathy and healing, wards and portals, and natural elements. Natural elements include fire, earth, water, air, lightning..." Loretto doesn't react as I pause, doesn't seem to be entertained. At the back of my mind, I still attempt to think of a question good enough to surprise Loretto once more, yet frustratingly, my mind is empty now. "And shit." Zero reaction. And what a complete waste of time, right? Can't the rabbit librarian fix the aura abyss? We should be investigating Valto's murder before one of us winds up dead too, pry out Maricela's evil plans! I slam the book shut. "Why am I reading this, Loretto? I know what lightning is. Loretto!"

I can't deny that saying faer name out loud is satisfying, especially after being officially granted permission to do so. It tastes sharp on my tongue, meaningful. And Loretto's head instantly jerks sideways, toward my voice, reacting to the name as if it's a spell I cast.

My mentor stops piling the books on the floor. Stepping away from them, Loretto slowly turns around and stares at the volume shut in my hands. Faer expression grows glum. "I really thought it'd work."

"What would work?"

"The library's atmosphere, the tranquility. But you still can't concentrate, can you?"

I shrug. "There's nothing worthy of concentrating on."

Loretto is about to say something, but then a new thought flashes in faer eyes. "Huh." A troubling thought. "You do know you're reckless, explosive, and easily distracted, right? You tend to lose track of time, misplace things, constantly fidget and bite your nails without even noticing. You seem to think of and feel several things at once. And you either obsess over things--like fixing that watch of yours--or quickly get bored and can't finish a task at all without proper motivation."

I go still, realizing that although I haven't been fidgeting at the moment, my nail is picking at the wooden edge of the tabletop without intending to, ruining the perfectly polished surface. "Thanks for listing my flaws."

"No, that's not what I'm doing. I'm trying to figure...do you have ADHD?"

"What?"

"Attention deficit hyperactivity disor--"

"I know what that is! Are you saying I'm defective?" I must've sounded more hurt than I actually am, because Loretto's expression softens. It happens suddenly and unexpectedly, and the warmth in faer eyes sends an equally warm wave over my skin. It feels nice. Maybe I should pretend to be hurt more often.

"No, Eli. I'm saying that your brain works in a slightly different way, and needs a different approach. So what? It doesn't make you defective." Loretto crosses over, taking the book from my hands. "Besides, if everyone was identical, the world would have been dull and tedious, right? But I do need to find a damn way to motivate you."

I mull over Loretto's words. They make sense, somehow, just...Kofi scolds me for biting my nails, and Mom always rolls her eyes when I forget my jackets in the kitchen. And at school, I usually ended up in detention for failing to listen to the teachers and getting lost in my own thoughts, and was lectured about what a failure I was. As though they enjoyed making me feel less until I actually believed them. And Loretto now says...so what? That's okay to be me? My heart clenches. I'm me. So what?

Yet it still makes me a troublemaker who got himself into this mess, stuck in a shaman den, wanted dead by the empress herself. Cursing, I slump back against the chair. "I don't like the way my brain works, then."

"Oh! Do you think everyone else likes theirs? I don't like my brain either, it gets me depressed every time I--" Loretto cuts faerself off, dropping the book on the table beside me. "Doesn't matter. But books really help me feel like I'm a part of the world. I thought they might help you, too."

I look up to search Loretto's gaze, but fae doesn't look at me now, and a shadow falls over faer face, making it even more enigmatic than usual. Not a chance to read faer mind. "You don't look depressed."

My mentor scoffs, a sour sound. "Depressed people rarely look depressed. And I'm fine now. When you're around, causing mayhem, I'm too overwhelmed to even sit and think what I feel. So I don't know...Maybe it's gonna get worse later."

The sincerity of Loretto's words astonishes me. I don't know what to say in reply now, so I just nod. A sad silent minute passes between us, neither of us speaking.

I give up first, as usual. "Okay, I can try reading again." But when I reach for the book, Loretto pulls it away from under my touch. Our fingers miss each other for a split second.

"No. You're not motivated to read about magic. Go get another book, less...boring. The fifteenth circle, the shelf marked 156-M. Green cover, no title. You'll see." Without explaining anything else, Loretto returns to faer task of freeing the bookshelves, faer posture aloof once again. Like at a flicker of lightning. As though we haven't just talked heart to heart.

I wait for a moment longer, watching Loretto work, then rise to my feet, and head into the book jungle.

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It takes time, but I eventually do find the bookcase marked 156-M. It doesn't look any different from the others, except maybe for too many too old books that threaten to turn to ashes at a touch. My eyes travel along each book spine twice, yet each of them has a title and none of them is quite green.

Only after the third attempt, I notice that books here are also stacked in two rows on each shelf, and after half an hour and what seems like a pound of dust on my clothes later, pulling almost every book from the front row out, I find the green one. Or...greenish. With a worn-out forest-dark leather cover with darker specks of spilled ink and no sign of a title or an author, which indeed kindles my motivational curiosity. As if hidden, it is shoved into the deepest, darkest corner, so it's hard to stumble upon it by accident. Hard even to find it on purpose if you look without proper devotion. Loretto must be really smitten with these dusty papers if fae knows where to find them all.

Taking the book and feeling triumphant, hoping that I haven't got lost in the library's circles this time, I start back toward the part where my mentor is, but something leaves me stalling halfway. The library is mostly empty--or too big to be crowded on the outskirts, no matter how many shamans visit it--and everything around is silent and still.

Almost everything.

A cautious set of footsteps resonate behind the bookcases on my right, and then, a few seconds later, another set of footsteps, just as cautious. As though someone is following someone. Or spying on them.

Puzzled, I walk several bookcases back, to the place where, as I think, the spy has stopped behind the shelves. Muffled voices reach me through the leather covers and papers. Not a spy. Someone is here to talk in private, to discuss secrets. I carefully pull a few books out, on my hip level, to peek through the shelf without being noticed if strangers turn their heads.

The place where two people have stopped is inconveniently dim, and I still can't hear their hushed voices clearly, but I can see the white color of the robe one of them is wearing. The council's color. Are they arranging another murder? Maybe the idea of spending the day in the library wasn't that useless--after all, this must be a great place for secret meetings.

I hold my breath, listening, peering into the shadows, but the second person is harder to recognize. Only as they reach up with his hand, and then lower it to his side, I see the glasses they've taken off. The glasses that look just like the ones I saw on...

As I shove another book on the shelf, trying to have a better view, it slams against the shelf with a dull thud. Quiet, dusty thud, but it's enough in the silence around.

The voices stop.

I recoil from the shelf, but the councilor already moves toward it. Luckily, teleporting in Tik'al is impossible, and in order to see me, he has to take a long road of rounding the entire library section to the closest aisle.

I turn around, and run.

I dash along the rows of bookcases as silent and fast as possible, my heart hammering in my ears. What business can my sister's boyfriend possibly have with the empress's council? I keep running even after making sure nobody's chasing me. My thoughts race just like my feet, overwhelming one another. Faris isn't even a shaman, just a damn alchemy student, like Ariane...What if Cale was right, what if Ariane chose shamans over her family, power over loyalty, what if Faris is going to tell the empress I'm no shaman? No, they can't prove it. And Loretto won't let them hurt me, right? Can Faris be Maricela's secret assassin, then? He always seemed too good to be true: too polite, too kind, too smart--maybe he's faking it. Then I need to confront to him before he hurts anyone else. Or...not. If I confront him, I'll have to admit eavesdropping, another trouble I've to stay away from. Talk to Cale, then. Warn him. But--

"Eli?"

I flinch, halting, returning to here and now as Loretto and faer piled books appear before me.

Loretto looks over my heaving chest and my tousled curls, then faer eyes travel behind my back, worry clouding faer face. "What's wrong? You look like you encountered a snake."

Kinda. I take a deeper breath, trying to take my panting under control, schooling my expression into something rather easygoing. "No, I just..." But to talk to Cale, I need an aura ring, and in exchange for that, I promised Ian to arrange him a date with Loretto. The thought makes me nauseous again as I see Loretto's genuine concern for me. I'm not a liar, but lying is all I'm doing lately, it seems. What makes me better than a traitor Faris is? "Sorry."

Loretto frowns, yet faer concern lessens as no danger seems to be following me. "For what?"

"I thought I got lost," I lie yet again. "Might have overreacted." With another deep breath, I walk over and, disregarding the chair, hop to sit on the table. No, I won't talk to anyone. I'll break my own reckless rule and sit still, doing nothing. Watching. Being ready for anything. Like a secret weapon, not a troublemaker. Cracking the greenish cover open, I will myself to relax. "But I found the book. If I read this one out loud, do you promise to listen, Loretto?"

After a moment of suspicious hesitation, Loretto nods. "Yes."

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While I was gone, Loretto has managed to almost fully free the giant bookcase from its books, which are now around fae like a paper fortress. The dark spot inside the shelf looks a little bigger now, from Loretto's waist to almost the floor, and a few books beside it seem to be half-swallowed up by the aura abyss. Loretto crouches and now begins pulling them out, careful, as though they might burst into flames.

"What if a book, or something, slips in there?" I ask, watching in dismay. Or someone? Not sure if it's a question capable of surprising faer, but I need to know it to sleep well at night. The abyss now looks almost big enough for someone to squeeze inside.

"Then it's gone forever," Loretto says without pausing. "Nobody really knows what happens with things that get lost in there. Nobody ever found them back."

"And what if a person steps in there?"

"Same outcome--nobody knows. Want to try to be the first to figure?"

"No."

"Then read, I'm listening. Truly, Eli. I'd love to hear your opinion on this particular book."

The heel of my left foot drumming against the table's leg, I flip through the pages, but Loretto's words said to Maricela's councilor with a chicken now surface in my memory. If I were to play ridiculous, you wouldn't have even found the body. Did Loretto really mean it? A shiver skitters between my shoulder blades as I glance at the abyss again. Isn't it a perfect place to hide a body, then? But a murderous shaman performing blood sacrifices doesn't come together with the image of the person I got to know in the last few days. Is Loretto actually capable of hurting someone? Or killing someone?

Of loving someone?

Shooing the thoughts away, I clear my throat and nod, although Loretto can't see it with faer back turned to me. "Yes, reading." At first glance, the book appears to be some kind of memoir written by hand many years ago. "Cabracan's people, or shamans as they call themselves, possess the most unique talent of altering the human reality," I begin. "Not only can they change the properties of natural elements and fluids, but the most skilled of them can also affect human hearts and read human emotions, which makes them an extremely dangerous species. The only element shamans can't conquer is holy silver that, as we all know, can be used to deprive any wicked sorcerer of their power."

What Loretto wanted my opinion about? Sounds right so far.

"Yet as silver is hard to obtain sometimes, especially the among large enough for forging restraining collars, and the pain of torture doesn't always help redeem wayward souls and cure this species, we've developed a system of marking evil shamans--an image of a square sun, a symbol of their own false gods, tattooed with ink on the skin of each of them; so if the monsters we've once caged run, they can't hide among humans or--" I trail off, my hands gripping the book harder. Restraining collars? Torture? Caged? But no matter how many times I reread the passage, the words are the same. "I don't want to read this."

Casual, Loretto doesn't even pause as fae pulls the last book away from the aura abyss. "Why?"

"Why?" A clipped laugh escapes my chest. "This is some madman's writing. Who thinks they marked shamans like farm animals."

"And who's the madman, do you think?" There's a hint of mocking irony in Loretto's tone, and it makes me wonder...I hastily flip through the chapters, to the very last one, looking for an author's note or a signature. The ink has withered on the yellowed pages here and there, but sloppy writing is still distinguishable.

The first true ruler of the freed lands, E. de Montejo. The year of 1604.

I swallow hard, and my heel stops drumming against the table's leg. Loretto was right, this book is far from boring. It's...hideous. Now it occurs to me that the darker specks on its cover might be dried blood, not ink. "It's probably fake." But who would trouble themselves with creating fake yellowed pages filled with ugly handwriting and hiding it in the furthest corner of the library? "Or a misunderstanding. We've a shaman ruler, Loretto! And there are no tattooed sorcerers in Cabracan." But if there were, it was over four centuries ago, even shamans don't live that long. I hate my brain for suddenly thinking that clearly, and giving me all these explanations. No, my ancestors couldn't be enslavers and torturers for real, it's but a political story. "Here"--my eyes skim the part I've read again--"it says marking evil shamans. Not all of them. Right?"

"But how do you tell which one is evil, Eli?"

Loretto's questions sound more and more like provocation, like I'm guilty of the writing of some crazed man who lived hundreds of years ago, who I've never met--just because he's my alleged ancestor. "Well, someone who uses magic to poison a living, breathing human being to take a throne is quite evil to me." Exasperated, I hop off the table. "Someone who plays a monarch like we're still in the Middle Ages, and sets laws to control the lives of all plainbloods simply because they're plainbloods and can't fight back. Ariane and Kofi's father died because shaman doctors refuse to treat plainbloods, and I can't leave Cabracan to visit my own dad in St. Daktalion without getting a written clearance from the shamans first. All I get is an aura ring with a tiny drop of magic to use to warm up my house and buy food, while all you shamans need is to snap your fingers. A ring my moms have to work for a month to get its gem recharged. A ring Tikhon has taken away from me without a second thought, when he tossed me your way! So I don't know, maybe I'm the slave here?"

Loretto listens to me without saying a word or turning to face me, faer posture serene and motionless, and it's even more exasperating. As though I'm a misbehaving child whose babysitter waits for him to calm down.

"Cale's right, nothing good ever comes from those with unlimited, unrestrained power," I continue, my throat seething, my temper flaring. "Who are convinced their powers are granted to them by gods. Who believe that every last sick thought of theirs is divine providence, permitting them to use others as they please. Life is only precious because it can be lost, because it's vulnerable. And shamans are not! Cale is right--they're ruination, a mistake that should be taken under control." My last words roll off my tongue, and I realize I've gone too far. We've been talking about history and magic like about something far away from us, and I've never actually thought what it means for the moment of now. Loretto's shoulders stiffen. And when my mentor finally turns to face me, faer expression is cold and bitter like a winter night. "I didn't mean to--"

"You think I'm a mistake?"

"No, Loretto. It's just--just your powers, they..." I bite the tip of my tongue. Whatever I say now seems to only make it worse. Half an hour ago, Loretto said it was okay to be a reckless idiot like me, and now I sound like I'm blaming faer for being who fae is. I'm a jerk.

Loretto takes a step toward me, then changes faer mind, and stops. Faer jaws tighten and eyes flash, a maleficent spark I've only seen when we first met.

We're back to where we started. Enemies.

"Do continue, Elisey. My powers should be taken under control, and you should be the one to control them, is that what you had in mind? Because you're not convinced that every last sick thought of yours is divine providence." A sardonic, grim smile twists Loretto's lips. "But you're not planning on stopping enjoying the perks of our magic yourself, renouncing aura rings and amulets, are you? Then do you really want to make us all equal by ruining those who are stronger, or do you just want to end up the strongest yourself?"

"Lo--"

"Shut up! And listen to me now." Loretto takes another step, and we're face to face now. Close enough for a hug--or a blow. "You think I don't see where your lack of motivation comes from? You're not interested in reading about magic, because you don't want to be a shaman. Because you still believe you're better than that. But if you think our empress is evil, fancy a thought of whose evil ways Maricela adopted, Montejo." Faer voice hardens at the name like a muscle at the sight of a serpent. "And all those rules you've to endure? Do you ever wonder that if not for our wards and clearances, every last person in the world will learn about Cabracan and aura in a matter of days? Scientists will come, and turn shamans into lab rats, taking away your precious rings to conduct researches and experiments on until they destroy magic as they destroyed it in their own lands once. Or--until they proclaim us all dangerous and put us in chains as your ancestors did. Like it or not, by using shamanic gems and rings, you're already a sorcerer, Eli. The ancestors you hail so much would have marked you just as easily, because you're one of us. That's who you're trying to blame. Yourself."

Loretto's last word rings in my ears, fading above our head, and thick library silence falls between us. I can't think of an argument caustic enough in return, so I just stare at Loretto, anger and frustration battling within me. I am not one of them! I'm not a cheater, not a liar, not a murderer...But you cheated at that absurd game at school when you wished to win, my treacherous mind whispers. And you've been lying since the patrollers caught you stealing aura, that's the sole reason you're still alive. And when Valto was murdered, wasn't everyone eager to believe I was capable of that?

Something breaks in me, like a guitar string that gives a desperate, jarred sound before falling loose. I want to scream. Not argue, not curse Loretto or other shamans, not fight. Just scream. Let it all out. Tear free from the past, and start anew, because the past suddenly is too complicated.

I don't scream.

Instead, I raise my hand with Montejo's journal and, with a choking intake of breath, hurl it past Loretto and into the aura abyss still looming within the shelves behind faer back. There. That's where the past belongs. I don't want it to ever return.

"No!" Loretto lurches forward, but faer fingers miss the journal by a mere inch. The book slices the air, pages rustling, and falls right into the dark, swallowed in a blink.

Belatedly, I realize what Loretto's alarm was about. The book is gone, but not the abyss. As though juiced up, it suddenly grows bigger and wider like a pupil reacting to bright lights.

The air becomes cooler, sending goosebumps across my skin. The books Loretto piled in careful stacks around us tumble as though knocked off, and losing my balance I fall to my knees because this cool air hits me like a wave. Like Loretto once did it, using magic to pin me to the door when I failed to steal faer knife, only this time--Loretto falls to faer knees too. Terror grips me as I see it. As I realize Loretto doesn't control this magic.

Nobody does.

I grab the edge of the table to steady myself, my terror thickening I watch as the books, which were closer to the abyss, being sucked into it. Gone. Forever. And now this dark patch is definitely big enough for a human body to squeeze.

Loretto tries to take the dark under control, pushing away from the scattered books, sparks flickering between faer fingertips, but Loretto is too far from the table and has nothing to hold on to, to take a breath and concentrate.

A new, colder wave, and more books hurtle into the abyss, the bookcases nearby tottering, volumes falling out. I'm about to back away, to duck under the refuge of the table, when one of the books slams into Loretto's chest. Loretto collapses to one side, the folds of faer robe flying around and preventing faer from catching faer balance again.

With horror, I see Loretto's foot sinking into the dark.

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Author's Note:

I'll be quick. Just stopping by to pin here the drawing of the new cover, aka lovely picture of Eli and Lo together I have finished last week and am madly in love with now ❤️

Mind you this picture is the first one I actually finished in the last two years, so you can imagine how stressful it was for me to find the strength to accomplish it.

It took me a damn week to draw these two, but I don't regret a single moment of my life spent on it
❤️🧡💛💚💙💜