Chapter 18 – — Librarian’s Note, Unsigned #2
Those amber eyes catch mine across the crowded hall. His expression gives nothing away, but his wolf’s tail twitches once, twice, before going still.
Then he looks away, turning back to Malric like I don’t exist.
I keep walking.
The library. The records. The name I’ve been hoping to find and terrified to find in equal measure. I’ve been avoiding this for weeks now, making excuses, telling myself I wasn’t ready, but I can’t keep running from the truth.
My father walked these halls.
Time to find out who he really was.
The library is different at night.
During the day, students crowd the first two floors, hunched over texts and whispering to each other across study tables. But now, an hour until midnight, the space is almost empty. The current-powered lamps have dimmed to a faint glow, and shadows pool between the shelves like dark water.
The entrance opens into an atrium that stretches up and up and up. I count the floors as my eyes climb. Five. Six. Seven. The spiral staircase winds around the edges like a metal spine, and the railings of each level crisscross above me like a web.
A desk curves across the entrance like a barricade. Behind it sits a tall and thin woman. Her silver hair covers the desk in front of her, and her pale eyes fix on me without blinking.
“Name,” she whispers.
“Maelis Rose.”
She writes something in the ledger without looking down. Her eyes never leave my face.
“The records you want are on the fifth floor.” Her voice is a whisper that seems to come from everywhere at once. “But the answers you need may be higher.”
I open my mouth to ask what she means but she’s already gone.
I stare at the empty space where she sat for a long moment, my skin prickling with unease. Then I turn toward the spiral staircase and begin to climb. How does she know what I’m looking for?
The higher I go, the quieter it gets. By the third floor, I can’t hear anything but my own breathing. By the fourth, even that sounds too loud. The fifth floor is dark. Only a few lamps are lit, and they flicker like they’re fighting to stay alive.
I find the records section in the back corner. Rows and rows of leather bound ledgers, organized by year. Student enrollments, graduation lists, and death records.
So many death records.
I pull the first ledger from fifty years ago and start to search.
After over an hour of searching student records as far back as my dad’s been alive and not finding anything I feel a little defeated. Charlie Rose never went to Ashwell Academy. And if he did, he went by a different name.
I must be missing something.
Maybe I should write my mom or Briana and see if they know anything. I mean, I doubt my sister knows anything, and I can’t bring myself to write my mother after what happened.
I venture down two floors and find a book on eidolons then head over to the fireplace and get comfy in one of the wide-cushioned chairs, throwing my stack of books on the side table.
The fire crackles softly, and Poppy chooses now to appear and lays on her belly in front of it watching me.
Or watching my back. Either way, I’m grateful.
I glance around and don’t see anyone. The library is eerily quiet, nothing but the occasional pop from the fire and the distant creak of old wood settling, but I’m glad I have Poppy to keep me company.
I crack open the first book. Eidolons: A Comprehensive Study of Soul-Bonded Companions at Ashwell Academy.
The title has me thinking of the other academies. Do they get eidolons as well? Are they the same three animals Ashwell has?
The introduction is dry, and I skim past it looking for something more useful.
The bond between a bloodline individual and their eidolon is forged during the Mirror Ceremony. Other academies across Valen have their own bonding rituals, and not all grant eidolons. Ashwell is unique in that its mirror bestows one of three forms: wolf, serpent, or bat.
So Draven got his eidolon somewhere else, probably the Vanguard academy. That explains why his wolf looks nothing like the ones I’ve seen here. Larger. Darker. Built for war instead of healing.
I flip forward.
For the first year of the bond, an eidolon is considered nascent regardless of its physical size.
During this period, both eidolon and partner are still learning to sense each other, the eidolon attuning to its partner’s emotions, needs, and physical state, while the partner learns to interpret the eidolon’s subtle cues and communicate through impression rather than words.
A nascent eidolon tires quickly when manifested for extended periods.
Most new partners find their eidolons retreating inward after only a few hours of physical presence, requiring rest before emerging again.
This endurance grows with time and practice.
Seasoned Veilguards can maintain manifestation for days without strain.
Distance too is limited during the nascent period.
An eidolon cannot travel far from its bonded partner before feeling an uncomfortable pull back toward them.
Pushing against this tether causes distress to both parties.
The range extends as the bond matures. Experienced partners report their eidolons scouting miles ahead without discomfort.
I glance at Poppy. She’s rolled onto her back, paws in the air, completely unbothered by the existential weight of what I’m reading.
“So you’re basically a baby,” I tell her.
She chirps without opening her eyes.
I flip forward, looking for the section on anomalies. There has to be more information about them.
Anomalies—eidolons that do not conform to the three standard forms—are exceptionally rare. Historical records indicate four confirmed anomalies in the past five centuries.
The significance of an anomaly eidolon is debated among scholars.
Some believe anomalies indicate an individual whose path cannot be defined by traditional means, a healer who will forge their own way rather than follow established patterns.
Others suggest anomalies are mistakes, imperfections in the mirror’s ancient magic.
A minority of scholars propose a third theory, that anomaly eidolons are given to those with unusual destinies, individuals fated to bring about great change.
All of that blows my mind.
“There you are.”
I spin around, heart lurching into my throat, but it’s Jace. He’s standing at the edge of the firelight, hands in his pockets, that familiar sweet smile on his face.
“Gods, you scared me.” I close the book and place it in my lap.
“I went by your room, and when I saw you were still gone, I got worried. Figured I’d come check on you.
” He rounds the chair next to me and drops into it, stretching his legs toward the fire.
He scans the stack of books on the side table.
“Eidolons and current. You could ask me about current, you know. From somewhere more comfortable. Like in bed. On top of me in bed even.”
I snicker. “I know I can ask you. I don’t like not knowing anything, and we haven’t covered current much in classes yet. I want to be prepared. It’s so easy for everyone else—”
“It’s not easy for me either. Just because I can feel current doesn’t make it come easy.” He turns his chair to face me more. “Most bloodlines don’t get good at using current until they’ve practiced a lot, and it always comes at a cost.”
“What do you mean when you say you can feel it? Explain it to me. What does it feel like?” I pull my legs underneath me and place my book on the side table so I can get more comfortable.
“You know how you can feel a fire or feel a draft?” He gestures toward the hearth. “Like that, I can feel current, but only if it’s strong. All over the academy’s campus I can feel it, but out there in Valen, back home in Ironfen, I couldn’t feel it unless I was trying to draw from it.”
Flick appears and swoops down next to the fire. Poppy sits up, gives him a disgusted look, and then makes a point to move two feet away before plopping back down. I giggle then look back at Jace.
“Why have I never seen you use it much before?”
“I’ve tried a little bit back home, but nothing big.
To warm up my coffee or close my bedroom door for me.
Current isn’t supposed to be used unless it’s really needed.
I only did those things to practice. Current shouldn’t be used much until it’s taught to you, and even then it costs you when you use too much. ”
He looks away from me and toward the fire.
“What does it cost?”