Morning brought the sweet scent of roasted apples, churning out ethereal streams of cinnamon. The smell wafted through the living quarters' thin floors, upstairs to Isla. The enticing smell provoked a rumble from her stomach. She sighed from the sound, and took another whiff, savoring the aroma.

Her eyelids fluttered open with daylight flooding the room. The bright rays trailed kisses across her face, immersing her eyes into an acute war of wills. Isla conceded, turning away to relieve the burning ache. She rubbed the soft flesh beneath her eyes and relished in her soothing touch.

Adjusting to the golden light, she swept her hand into her hair. Her gaze latched onto the white ceiling, and the cracks forming in the corners.

She was in Arcadia. The thought lingered.

How long did she have before her father's men chased her down? A day? A week? The tension rolled like thunderous waves through her stomach. Nothing would prevent their arrival.

Isla shook away the encroaching beast that frayed her nerves. Time was far too important to spend it in constant debate with oneself, she knew better. Create a new seal and get out. Her plan remained unchanged, even with Rein's return.

Arcadia's magic archive: how big and how vast was it? Their wealth of magic theory should contain grand, complex spells, untested from the sheer absence of aura. Large amounts of aura—she laughed at the proclamation. Yes, her aura far exceeded the Seraphines. The moment she lifted the seal and exposed her soul she witnessed how oppressive her strength was.

Isla raised her hand, spreading her fingers wide. She imagined her raw aura cocooning her soul and how a poke jostled the delicate setting. The white ball unfurled into wisps, the tendrils whimsical. She pictured a strand loosening and extending outwards. With a flick, she twisted the glowing fiber around her arm and towards her fingertips. Her aura complied without hesitation. A single precise thought and the energy spurred to life.

Fire ignited—a small, reddish-orange flame, no larger than a lit candle wick in the middle of her palm.

She felt no heat or pain. Instead, her blood boiled, and a smile teased her face.

Magic was empowering. Dangerous, but trustworthy. This sight incited strength and potential, revitalizing her determination to set her father straight. Who needed a sword when she was her own weapon.

Isla rolled the flame from one fingertip to the next. She concentrated on her aura, communicating her desires. Each action was crisp. Each thought conveyed. Had it always been this easy?

Willing the fire to disperse, she dropped her hand to her side.

This aura came from the Gods. Their conquests were buried in her body and etched into her memory. They killed her while ignorant of her status as one of their kind. Why—because Gods destroyed those weaker than them. And she was one of them. How twisted did reality have to be?

And what about Rein, did he see her differently?

He didn't flinch nor tense from her race. Instead, he defended her honor and bequeathed his trust. If anything, his actions shocked her.

Isla rolled out of bed and stretched her limbs. She brushed a hand across her hair and separated the snarled strands. Her boots squeaked as she reached for the sprawled cloak lying forgotten on the ground. With a single motion, she threw the cloak on and draped the heavy cloth hood over her hair.

She paused at the door, her hand encircling the brass knob.

Still, why was Rein here?

His words about Seraphines sprang to the forefront. Never trust them, Rein had told her, they're no better than the Gods they lambast.

Did he change so much? Those words then and his actions now, they didn't line up.

Isla suppressed the notion. Yes, Rein was hiding something, but what, and did it matter?

She shook her head. It didn't matter. He helped her, his camaraderie had not changed. Right?

"Stop," she growled, tapping her head on the door.

With a sharp pull, Isla opened the door and halted in step with wide eyes.

Rydin twiddled his thumbs with gaze turned away. He looked straight at her, his mouth set in a firm line and his eyes watering.

"What?" Isla barked, resting her hands on both hips. "Got something to say?"

Laughter exploded from Rydin and he hunched over, grabbing his stomach as the sound filled the hallway.

"Eavesdropping, rude aren't we."

He regained his composure, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. "How is it considered eavesdropping when you're alone?" Rydin snickered.

"Don't you have better things to do?" Isla retorted.

"Yeah, I know." Rydin's gaze lowered, and he scratched his jaw. "Actually, that's why I'm here."

Isla raised her eyebrows but waited for him to continue.

His eyes connected with hers and he grinned. "Can you help me out? I have no clue where to start."

She shut the door, moving on ahead. "For a bit."

"Thanks."

Rydin followed her out of the living quarters. Framed by low cast clouds and the horizon, the sun created a luscious centerpiece. The jewel-like radiance shined upon the landscape, transforming the morning humid gloom to warm wonder. The bobbing heads of magic scholars became an astral plane, culminating into a natural scene to bewitch.

Brick lined pathways swirled and converged, wrapping the library's exterior. The perimeter uncurled to reveal the central hub. At the entrance, remained the triplets with scowls transplanted from the previous day. Isla stuck her chin up and ignored their fight inspired stares.

She chose the first hallway and stopped to gawk at the high ceiling marble artwork. Arches segmented the masterpieces of varying magic beasts. A three-headed blackthorn wolf jumped out of the ceiling, all three mouths with vicious snarls.

Still, the figure was overshadowed by the painted environment imprinted on the walls. A beautiful and realistic forest overtook the space. The trees swayed with an imaginative wind and the brushwork synthesized the colors to life.

From the deep forest, the hallway spirited them to an ocean paradise. Each marvel had an intriguing spin with creatures to match. A smoldering volcano where even a whiff of sulfur was present to a barren wasteland containing poisonous vipers.

Without her knowledge, they'd reached the first of five libraries. Isla glanced at Rydin, waiting for his familiar input. Yet, the scenery had him spellbound and his eyes shimmered with astonishment.

"Rydin," she voiced, watching him turn in circles.

Excitement radiated off him, and she knew the thrill. The library widened and spread, the ceiling rose to heights unimaginable. Shelves beyond shelves of fine mahogany, brimming with magic literature. The books were neat, oriented and unblemished by time. Staircases curled around the room's rim with black handcrafted iron-cast rails framing the pathways to paradise. Crystal chandeliers floated at each floor level, their flames wavering, but without forming crippling shadows to hinder reading.

"Heavens spare me. I can't believe this. I've never seen so many books in one place, not to mention text on magic. It feels like I've been living under a rock all my life."

Isla chuckled at his response. "It might look nice, but now you have to digest it."

Rydin scratched his jawline. "True, so where do we start?"

"You know beginner magic theory?" she asked, moving towards the front shelves. She tapped a purple-hued rock littered with inscriptions lying on the small nearby table.

"Not enough. I relied on application mostly, playing and testing what I could and couldn't do. What's that rock for?"

"It creates a sound room." Isla trailed her fingers over the leather-bound books. "Magic, it can be characterized as projecting your soul. All living beings possess a soul which releases a layer of energy called aura."

"Right, aura. I understand the feel and form of it. Kind of like an extension of my body," Rydin replied.

Isla leaned against the wall. "Yes, your aura has a limit. Generally, the limit differs with race—Gods, Seraphines, Centurions, Castions—they all have different pools."

"Wait." Rydin held his finger up, waving it. "You missed Demons. Can't they use magic?"

"What they use isn't exactly magic of the soul, but of the blood. Scholars like to separate the two, at least from what I've seen."

"Doesn't that make it more dangerous?"

Isla shrugged her shoulders. "Have you seen a Demon use blood magic?"

"No, I'd rather refrain from enticing death so openly," he grumbled.

"Shocking. Especially considering your desire to see Gods. Does Bartez ring any bells?"

"You know, Isla. We all make mistakes. And first of all, none of that would have happened if you told me you were one. Seriously though, you're a God?"

She sighed, turning her back to him and stared at the books. Her hand reached out, trailing the leather-bound books and nubs of thread.

"What? Not going to tell me? Come on, Isla." He stood against the shelf, gazing at her. "What are you worried about?"

Isla closed her eyes, using the brief moment to shut the torrent of emotions she knew this conversation would wrought. "I didn't know."

Her response forced her onto a perilous bridge. One wrong move or strong gust of wind, and her safe footing disappeared. A dangerous route solely for her.

Yet, it garnered no reaction, at least not the one she imagined. She opened her eyes, searching for Rydin. He sat on the brown leather sofa behind her. His quiet footsteps had evaded her perception.

"Sorry."

The single word pricked her skin. A foreign part of her berated her reply. He apologized, but why? He held no sway over her background and history. Nothing could be done. So, why did he have a solemn response?

"They were Sight See-ers. They could read the color of a person's soul." Isla paused, watching his sagged shoulders rise then fall again. Silence wrapped his frame and his normal cheerful persona seemed distant. She cleared her throat, the sound shattering the stillness. "This area has beginner books. I'll be elsewhere."

Isla headed back towards the hallway and the central hub. Her steps were strong and even. Yet, the tranquil water beneath her defenses had a faint ripple.  

A/N: I just want to thank @phwoooaar for their support since the beginning. Thank you to everyone else that has read up to this point! I hope things start getting a little bit more interesting.