Chapter 4
After coming home that night, I had spent the rest of the evening erasing everyone’s memories of what had transpired at the pub.
The magic fallout that had followed had been intense, but I had made provisions in my room and after hours of struggling to contain my emotions, I had fallen asleep on the cold bedroom floor.
My dreams had been filled with memories of my life before. Before my father had died. Before my mother had gotten sick and I had had to return home to care for her. Before my body and thoughts had not been my own. Before my hands had been steeped in blood.
* * *
All throughout the following days I had felt the aftereffects of my actions. A mixture of trepidation, shame, and hopelessness washed over me whenever I remembered how glorious the magic high had felt. But life moved on and somehow didn’t care about my inner turmoil.
But there was something else playing on my mind. It irked me that not only Bogus, but also the strange man in the street had talked about the Gods as if they were real.
There was only one place I could think of that might have any information about the ancient Gods and I intended to find out what had stirred this renewed interest in the Gods.
Dr. Marris had already left the surgery, so I quickly wrote down the reports for the day and cleaned up the work bench.
I closed the door behind me and fell into a sprint.
The library was only open for another two hours and it would take me at least twenty minutes to get there.
I nearly collided with a rider and its horse as I crossed the bustling main street, the clatter of hooves mixing with the shouts of the careless rider.
The afternoon rain had left behind wide puddles that I tried to avoid, hopping between the slick stones like a child playing a game.
My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since my rushed lunch break, so I ducked into a familiar bakery.
The warm scent of fresh bread and roasted coffee filled the air, offering a momentary comfort.
The shelves were nearly bare, though, and all my favorite pastries were long gone.
Sighing, I settled for a simple cheese sandwich and a steaming coffee.
The cheese looked tired, wilting at the edges, sweating in the shop window.
Me too, cheese, me too. Dr. Marris often called me softhearted, and moments like this made me wonder if he was right.
I ate it quickly as I strolled the last stretch toward the library, savoring the warmth of the coffee more than the sandwich itself.
As I finished the last bite, I tossed the crumpled paper bag into a bin, watching the greasy outline of the cheese melt into the paper.
Another small casualty of the day, I thought wryly, wiping my hands on my trousers before quickening my pace.
As soon as I entered the library, the scent of dust and moldy paper flooded my nose.
The entrance was dimly lit and the carpet looked threadbare and grimy.
Did the city council intentionally keep the library in such a bad state because they wanted to discourage people from setting foot inside the building?
The smell in the air, the gloomy atmosphere, and the less than friendly looking librarian certainly gave the impression that visitors were not welcome.
I cleared my throat, and the librarian finally raised her eyes from the book she was reading.
She looked surprised to see an actual human being in the foyer and quickly shut the book.
“If you want to use our toilets, please pay a coin on the way out. The toilets are through the double doors to the right at the end of the corridor.” She was already averting her eyes again, opening the book to continue reading.
I gently tapped against the glass, the dull thud muffled by a layer of grime.
Smudges and greasy fingerprints crisscrossed the pane, leaving streaks that caught the light in strange, uneven patterns.
Dust clung to the edges where the frame met the window, forming a faint, grayish border that only emphasized its cloudy state.
“Thank you, but I would like to visit the library if it’s possible.
” The lady looked back up at me, annoyance flickering across her face.
With a huff, she stuffed her book under her desk and opened a ledger next to her.
Scribbling down the date and time in one column, she slid the ledger through a slit in her window over to me.
“Please fill in your name and sign over here. You are not to take any books outside the reading rooms, nor are you allowed to scribble into the books. When you are finished with a book, please place the books on one of the trays so the staff can sort them back onto the right shelves. Do you have any more questions?” Her monotone voice tinged with annoyance dared me to ask a question.
I finished with the ledger and shoved it back towards her. I quickly cast my eyes downward.
“No, I don’t think so. Thank you very much.”
I had mastered the art of appearing deferential. Her belittling smile told me she felt superior here, in her quiet office—a feeling she seldom had, and one I would keep in mind should I ever need her help.
The library stretched across multiple levels, and I had no idea where to begin.
The history section seemed like the most logical place to start, so I headed up to the third floor and followed a dim corridor toward the reading room.
The building looked like it had once been the pride of the town.
The floors were made of expensive white marble with gold vines lacing through the stone.
The rich wooden wall paneling was in need of some TLC, but the extraordinary craftsmanship was still visible.
The heavy wooden doors were equipped with golden letters indicating the types of books being stored in the rooms and the golden handles shone in the scarce light of the small chandeliers along the corridor walls.
I didn’t meet a single soul on my way to the history section and honestly, it was a little creepy being here all on my own.
As I opened the door to the history room, I could have sworn that dust fell from the door jamb, as if nobody had opened that door in quite a while.
Not that it surprised me, history wasn’t exactly my favorite subject either.
I had never understood why anybody would want to dwell in all of the mistakes of the past, instead of in all of the terrible mistakes of the present.
Making my way to a small sitting area, I placed my bag on the floor and heaved a big sigh.
There were rows and rows of books and I had no idea what I was actually looking for.
Maybe I should have done some research before coming here, but it was not like I could ask anyone if they knew about books of the old Gods.
The mere mention of anything relating to religion could be reported to the authorities and I didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention, in case word got round about my heka.
I quickly walked past the rows of books to get an idea of where to start.
Tap tap tap tap, my mind started humming. On which side of the room should I start?
Red for the roses, white for the veil,
one to remember, one to betray.
I counted the rhyme twice, just to be sure and both times it landed on “remember”—so the bookcases to the left of the room it was.
The first few rows contained books about the history of the town and the district it belonged to.
I needed the bigger picture, though. The following row was promising with multiple shelves containing summaries of the history of the continent.
I grabbed a newer looking copy of “The history of Sevalis” and took a seat on one of the dark green sofas.
The fabric of the furniture smelled damp, and I could see tiny dust particles flying around in the light of the lanterns that were placed around the room.
It wasn’t the best light to read in, but it would have to do.
I grabbed a pen and paper from my bag and started reading.
The first few pages contained maps of Sevalis.
The continent was huge, split into different countries of various sizes.
Around the continent, smaller islands were marked and named on the map.
My hometown was located in Veyranth, the most western country.
Squinting hard, I lifted the book up closer to my face to try and find it, but apparently it was too insignificant to be marked on the map.
I turned the pages and started with Chapter 1.
After 20 minutes, I had learned nothing new and decided I needed to approach this differently.
I opened the back of the book to look for the glossary.
My finger traced the worn pages of the leather-bound edition.
Skimming the rows marked “r” for “religion” and “g” for “Gods” produced no results, so I tried again with “d” for “deities.”
There it was.
I searched for the right page number and found a whole chapter dedicated to the great war and the subsequent death of the deities.
The war between the western and eastern states of the continent had raged for nearly 7 years.
The Gods had resided on the continent alongside the humans until this point, but had not actively taken part in the war.
According to this book, they had tried to keep the peace, offering counsel to the reigning kings and queens, but had ultimately decided to stay neutral.
After the war ended with no real winner and the borders almost remaining the same, the hate of the people had turned towards the Gods for not choosing a side.
The humans had started revolting against the royals across all of the nine kingdoms and effectively removed them from power.
In the newly founded countries, where the will of the people was supposed to rule, there simply was no need for deities anymore.
Temples, churches and other places of worship were destroyed, priests and priestesses were killed, books of holy were burned and any kind of prayers, rituals and symbols of Gods and religion were banned.
The book didn’t go into detail about what actually happened to the Gods, but apparently they disappeared and were declared dead, since nobody believed in them anymore anyway.
The chapter ended there, and I wasn’t any wiser than I had been before.
I put the book back on its shelf and started wandering the library again.
The wooden grandfather clock in the corner was ticking away loudly in the silence, reminding me that the library would be closing soon and I was no closer to understanding the ominous words of the man in the crowd and Bogus.
I blew out a frustrated breath and decided to do a last walk around the room to see if I could spot any titles that seemed promising, when I heard the door to the room open and shut with a soft click. I stilled and held my breath, my palms starting to tingle in response.
“I should have guessed that I would find you in a library, wordsmith,” a male voice echoed through the suddenly too quiet room.
Heavy footsteps moved closer. “I must urge you to come with me. It is not safe here for you and time is running out.” A movement to my right caught me off guard and I shrieked as a man stepped in front of me.
What in the Fates’ knotted knickers?