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What if I didn’t imagine Arluin at all?
Nineteen
WhatIsaidtoEliyawasalie.Idon’tteleporthome.Instead,IteleportbacktotheArcaniumandheadtothelibrary.
The Grand Library of Nolderan is as it has always been. Nothing has changed over these past three years. The enormous crystalline chandelier is as dazzling as ever, and the checkered tiles still disorient me as I reach the last step of the long staircase.
There are few adepts inside the library, which is fortunate because Eliya would be hurt if she found out I lied to her. Guilt gnaws at me, but I shake it away. She is better off with Koby and the others rather than someone who sees ghosts wherever they go.
Erma Darkholme sits at her desk beneath the chandelier. Today, she’s flicking through an old tome. I don’t stop to look at which it is. Her gaze rises as I pass her desk, and she peers at me through her dark-rimmed spectacles. They sit so far down her nose it’s a wonder they don’t topple off.
“What are you doing here?” she demands.
“I came to find a book.”
“Hm,” she simply says. I turn away, but she continues speaking before I can leave. “Haven’t you adepts finished for the year?”
It seems even Erma is discouraging me from studying. Maybe Eliya is right to be worried about me. Maybe I am going mad.
I doubt Erma’s words are spoken out of concern for me. Her only concern will be whether she has a break from us adepts over Yuletide.
“Yes, Professor Darkholme,” I say, dipping my head. “We finished today.”
“Then why not wait until January when your studies resume?” Her eyes narrow with suspicion. She hasn’t forgotten my mischievous ways during my first two years at the Arcanium.
“My studies won’t continue in January, Professor Darkholme. I’m a fifth-year student, so today is my last day as an adept of the Arcanium. My Mage Trials start on Monday.”
“Ah,” she says, her attention returning to her old tome. “I see.”
I continue through the library, and this time Erma doesn’t stop me.
The book I seek,Concerning Conflagration and Combustion, is located on the Grand Library’s second floor, along with the other tomes dedicated to fire magic. During my third year, I studied this book to improve my fireball, but I didn’t make many notes on the spell forignir’alas, which Alvord Ashbourne famously invented five hundred years ago.
I take a right turn and ascend the narrow, winding steps. They aren’t as numerous as the ones leading into the library, and I soon reach the second floor.
The shelves containing books on fire magic are located at the far end, so I weave through the sprawling aisles until I arrive at that section.
I come to a stop before the bookshelves. Like all the others, their edges are gilded and they stand at five times my height.
Concerning Conflagration and Combustionperches on the highest shelf, exactly where I remember. Its burgundy leather spine sits between two smaller books, and its title and ‘Alvord Ashbourne’ is scrawled onto it.
I imagine holding the book in painstaking detail: my fingers brushing over the smooth leather cover and the gold leaf ornamentation glistening in the violet light of the nearby aether crystals. When the book is concrete in my mind, I speak the spell-words. “VelloConcerning Conflagration and CombustionperAlvord Ashbourne.”
A glittering cloud swirls up to the topmost shelf. My magic locates the book, secures it, and then drifts down, depositing it in my hands.
I tuck the tome under my arm and return to the winding stairs.
But I only manage a few strides.
From the corner of my eye, I glimpse a flash of cerulean, and I pause, peering down the aisle. Another adept stands at the far end. He has dark curls. And his frame looks so very familiar...
My heart skips a beat. I hurry toward him, my frantic footsteps ringing throughout the library.
I go to shout his name, but my lips barely part before he turns.
And when he does, I realize that he isn’t Arluin. His face is too round, too soft, and his nose is too pointed. His curls aren’t raven black, but deep chestnut. From the other end of the aisle, his hair looked much darker.
“Um,” the boy begins, “can I help you?” He looks at me like I’ve gone mad. Maybe I have.
