•◉⊙◉•

The boy's right hand hit the floor of the cage with a wet splat the next day. Lux stirred from her sleep, tongue numbed into silence and veins big and bulging in her puddle-reflection. The baby had not survived the previous night's cold, and his tiny feet followed his grandfather into the afterlife. The remnants of the group had buried them all in makeshift graves, with Lux mumbling the prayers for the afterlife through her paralysis. The grieving mother had found solace in the baker's wife, who would whisper words of courage to everyone through her cut lips. Lux feared for their resolve, and she knew they wouldn't heed her words. Hunger stemming from a week of starvation had marred their sense of patriotism.

Chantelle cackled and flicked her blade, making sure to let the blood splatter on the mage's face. Her five mage companions scowled at the two of them from the shadows; Lux even wondered whether they were slowly turning into the wraiths of the Shadow isles in the darkness.

"Now look what you've done, you stubborn little mage. . ."

I couldn't even protect Nero.

She sighed and looked at the sky behind the bandit, blue and watched it blur into the grey murk of sleep. Her eyelids drooped faster than before, ushering in the night. "No," she said, welcoming darkness. As her eyelids clamped shut, eyelashes heavy with gunk, she could hear Chantelle's bootsteps echoing in the caverns. The subject of her mutterings was the loss of a perfectly good thief's right hand, and how she would have to reassign him to the begging department. Her hatred for the chief and his favoritism towards his nephew had her taking out her anger on some poor child. She was sure of the implement used being the riding crop she had glimpsed on her hips.

If only she had a bit more mana, she could've seared off the wretch's face and blasted them all free through the stone. If only she had a bit more mana; just enough to turn Chantelle into ashes, and ask the boys to help them out. She was cent percent sure that they would've helped her.

But would they now? You are after all a dying mage girl. They would have no use for you now. It's just like Sylas said, poverty leaves no place for compassion. The survival of the fittest, natural selection at its prime.

Why am I still thinking about that monster? It's not like he still cares about you. He got what he wanted out of you. You're on your own now, stupid girl, dying in a grave dug by your own fork and spoon.

Her eyelids opened once more, jolting awake from limbo. A butterfly fluttered over the Hinterlandian ivy's lone inflorescence. Lux chuckled.

Question number seventeen in the senior cadet qualifiers. What does the Demacian Hierophant butterfly symbolize? Remember how you had stayed up all night in Garen's library, with a pencil stuck in your hair? And Garen had to lift you all the way to your room and dump you in your bed?

The Hierophant butterfly symbolizes choice among opposites, alternate paths, branches and so on, or something. I don't remember that much. I miss you so much, Garen. And Aunt Tianna. Mother. Father. I wish I had one more chance to see their faces. Just once, before I go. Ah . . .

Her eyes closed again, and she fell unconscious.

•◉⊙◉•

Lux woke up with a loud gasp.

She rubbed her eyes open to see two stunned nobles with books in their hands. Both of them had their hands over their mouths, and subtle frowns to express their displeasure, as expected from courtesans of their upbringing. They immediately returned to whatever they were doing, be it arranging the books onto the shelves or flipping through heavy volumes. She looked around and confirmed herself to be in the Archive of the Mageseeker Compound. In a diagram underneath her fingers, a Hierophant butterfly was poised on an ivy inflorescence. The book title read 'The Fauna of Demacia' on the top of the page.

What a dreadful nightmare. . .

She stood up to stretch her legs, irritating them again with the creak of her chair. This was the first time she had seen it so empty; the library had exactly three occupants excluding herself. The wizened librarian lifted a finger to his lips and shushed her loud enough for the horses in the royal stables to hear. She blushed and sank into her seat, wishing she could teleport away.

Damn it, how do you tell a chair to shut its squeaking, huh? And I'm probably running late for the Illuminators convention I was supposed to attend, I can't believe I slept for so long.

She yawned and got up again, riling up the librarian. Lux quickly mouthed an apology and entered the forest of tall, wooden bookshelves. She wove in and out of the sections like a hummingbird, scratching her head and retracing her footsteps multiple times. All the shelves were filled with books bound in the same standard issue, glossy red leather. She noticed that most of them had titles related to the study of Ars Magia, from summoning monsters to mastering the elements. She huffed and unbecknownst to her, ran deeper and deeper into the heart of the vast collection. Shelves stretched parallel to one another formed nothing less of a labyrinth.

Where is the goddamn Zoology section? I was literally there not one hour ago; do the bookshelves rearrange themselves or something? I'm late, I'm so late!

Her breath fell right when she had a glimpse of the human arranging books on a shelf. Judging by his garb, he was the Mageseeker Archivist in-charge of the section. A huge metal trolley filled with more volumes stood behind him.

Lux sighed in relief and called him, "Hey, excuse me?"

The man turned around and smiled in welcome. "Oh hello there, how can I help you?"

He seemed to grow taller as he walked towards her much to her dismay. The man was roughly her brother's height, well-built and oddly very muscular for an Archivist. His black hair was neatly plastered to the top of his head, and the long tips curled on his shoulders. Piercing grey eyes held a sage-like calmness within them, and a well maintained stubble hugged his jaw.

Lux had to drop her gaze before her gawking made him feel uncomfortable. "Um. . .yeah, hi. I'd like to know where the Zoology section is, please."

"If you have a book to return, you can hand it over to me, ma'am," he replied.

"Oh," She exclaimed and happily obliged to part with the book. "I'm running late for something and you're doing me a huge favor. Thank you very much!"

The Archivist smiled in all due politeness, examined the cover and asked, "Fauna books make great pillows, do they not?"

Lux blushed and bid him a hasty goodbye. Her Aunt Tianna would have had her head on a plate if she had been any more late to the convention.

---

"Sy-lass."

"Sy-lus."

"Sy-lass."

"Sy-lus, rhymes with stylus. I'm from Dregbourne, I have a mother, a father, and a darling cow."

"It's rude to call your sister a cow, Sy-lass."

"Now does Garen do that often?" He asked as he stacked the books near each other. Lux smacked his arm with the Light Magic book in her hand.

"What exactly is your job profile, big guy? I see you everywhere in the Mageseeker compound, from the acolyte training arena to the Inquisitor headquarters."

"Oh that. I'm a Mageseeker Archivist on weekdays. On weekends, I find and train acolytes, you know the usual Inquisitor stuff."

"So you're not the party-on-weekends kind of guy, huh?"

"I'm a modest drinker." He winked. "Just ask the bartender at the Golden Sword. Come to think of it, I have to pay him soon."

"How old are you?"

"The librarian and I were classmates, you see. . ."

The librarian's ears, keen beyond his advanced years picked up the mention of his name.

"Dregbourne!" came the clarion call, prompting the Archivist to drop everything and dash.

---

Thunder rumbled outside the complex, and rain lashed on the windows. The hot wax from the candle dripped from the candlestick onto the floor of the library. The great hall was enshrouded in the darkness, thanks to the storm at their doorstep. The weather was particularly vile according to the old librarian, who had urged a soaking wet Lux to return home.

She sat on the floor of the library, inhaling slow and full. An orb of brilliant white light glimmered into existence on her fingertips, and grew to span the entirety of her palm.

"Well done, Little Light. Now steady, we shall try to hold it for five minutes this time," said Sylas, as he flipped the hourglass over. She watched the grains filter down the smooth glass vessel, sparkling in all shades of golden yellow. She exhaled slowly and repeated the cycle.

I must see and hold the picture in my mind, just like he said. A bright ball of light that I can fully control and is the size of an apple is now in my palm.

Sylas' eyes never left the ball, his palms were neatly folded on top of each other over his crossed legs. A trolley full of magic books was parked below an empty shelf. He had been late to work after his tutoring session with young mages, to which she had previously been invited to.

Thunder and lightning alternated with each other in a furious dance. Her fingers began to tremble in the aggressive ballad of the heavens raging outside.

"It's alright, Luxanna, don't pay attention to them. Let them bark, let them bite; it'll take them more than that to distract you from the task you've been assigned."

"Why do you trust me more than I do, Sylas?"

Why does everyone trust me more than I do?

"Is it because I'm a Crownguard?"

"Is it though?" He asked, chin digging into his palm. Those eyes seemed to shine with a light of its own.

Well, what else could it be? Why else would anybody trust a dumb, blonde girl like me? I'm a walking, talking definition of that stereotype.

"I usually give assignments to my acolytes, but today, I'll give you one. Go home, place that big head of yours on a pillow and ponder on why you do not trust yourself, Little Light. And it's time!" He announced, slamming the hourglass. A grin slowly formed on her lips as she realised that the ball had lasted a full five minutes. She got up and performed a silent happy dance. Sylas pocketed his hourglass and gave her a muted round of applause.

Why do you trust me more than I do?

She asked herself, while watching the wet Demacian flag flutter in the wind. The winged sword was upturned in the flag, much to her dismay, with its tip pointing downward. Sylas was sure that the sword had always been depicted tip down.

Why do you trust me more than I do?
echoed her voice with the confines of her skull as the world around her went completely black.

•◉⊙◉•

Why do you trust me more than I do?

She found herself standing on the edge of a brimming pool. A ripple-less underground water-mirror lighted by a lonely oculus. A beam of pure white light scattered the dust caught in its path.

At its centre stood the mages who had lost their lives. Cassion held Tomas in his arms, both hale and hearty in a way she had never seen before. Elvenna's golden hair was washed and combed, and her clothes fresh out of the laundry.

Why did you trust me? I had warned you that I would fail, had I not?

The spirits smiled at her from the center of the pool. Lux felt hot tears stream down her cheeks and before she knew it, she was sobbing into her palms.

I'm so sorry, everyone, I'm so sorry.

•◉⊙◉•

A/N:

And cut! Thanks for reading! 😄💝