59 – Isabella

Vivi’s conversation with Osmian turned out far less productive than she’d hoped. Though a fiercely educated man, he was an academic belonging to a period of history long past, and immense magical progress had been made in that time. There was no substitute for the slow, inevitable accrual of knowledge; even titans like him would be left behind.

Mostly, he huffed and sputtered about how dimensional magic was ludicrous at its conceptual core, and she should dispense with that inane notion and consider what she’d seen from a different, more reasonable angle. That by itself wasn’t bad advice—she even humored him for a moment. But no. She knew what that fracture above Prismarche was, and what it meant.

Osmian had questions of his own, though mostly about the talents she had displayed during his Trials. Interestingly, he seemed completely apathetic to world events and what had transpired in the many centuries since his death. Vivi had some strong suspicions why, especially combined with the fact he’d never discovered Lucorius’s fate despite having hosted several trial-takers. If she designed a soul-shard copy of herself whose only purpose was to pass on her inheritance, she would install plenty of safeguards too. Like not allowing that shade to grow ambitious or seek his freedom. That could go rather catastrophically in all sorts of imaginative ways. Though Osmian’s ghost presented strongly as a person, she didn’t think he was quite as whole—in many senses of that word—as he seemed.

Beyond chalking up the encounter as an intriguing detour and not a total waste of time because of that, she came away with a more tangible benefit: she got permission from the archmage’s ghost to set a warp anchor in his office. Should she need to consult him, she could. He couldn’t help her in the same manner as Aeris, since his lifespan was extraordinarily limited, but having the option in her back pocket was certainly a plus.

It also meant she had an easy way to visit the library whenever she wanted—or indeed, most of the Institute, since Osmian’s Door could manifest nearly anywhere.

And so, after concluding that interesting misadventure, she and Saffra returned to their library exploration as if nothing had happened. They collected a small pile of books containing all of the general information Vivi thought she might need, and she copied them and stored them away.

“Now the restricted floors,” Vivi said, the two of them taking a long spiral staircase up. “If you’re not allowed inside, I’ll sneak you in with [Invisibility].”

“Won’t they be able to detect that?”

“Not mine, they won’t.”

Well, probably. She couldn’t say that with total certainty, which was why she’d been careful with her spellcasting. But if it was the only way to ferry Saffra in, she would do so.

But the librarian she spoke to didn’t protest Vivi’s taking another person into the restricted archives. Not with Vivi’s credentials, and with her naming Saffra her apprentice. Perhaps that would change for higher floors, but not the first level—which was apparently limited to full Institute Magi, meaning instructors or graduated students who’d gone on to formally align themselves with the academy. And others. No doubt anyone of middling importance or sufficient connections could enter this area. It held far from the most secret tomes in the Institute’s possession.

Unlike the spacious, arena-like construction of the main floor, these shelves were smaller and fewer in number, more like a regular library rather than the awe-inspiring atrium below. Vivi and Saffra poked through the shelves together, though Saffra was far more intrigued than Vivi herself. Vivi found the experience interesting, yes, but she was disappointed in the quality of the tomes. Even the spell designs that the Institute hid away for their full members were rather crude, apparently. She no longer felt certain that handing over the primitive instructional manuals to Saffra was a good idea—but she guessed the information within wasn’t wrong or harmful. Just not up to her standards. Better to have than not, she supposed.

Wrinkling her nose at a journal detailing a grossly inferior implementation of the seventh-tier spell [Earthrend], she found her thus-relaxed exploration of the library come to an end. Because Saffra came rushing around a corner, a panicked expression on her face.

“Hide me,” she hissed. “Hide me!”

For all her faults, Vivi didn’t have a tendency to freeze up. Not a tenth of a heartbeat passed before she had drawn mana, shaped it, and silently invoked an [Invisibility] spell. The catgirl, who’d dived for cover behind Vivi, blinked out of existence.

Just as someone else spun around the corner.

A young teenager wearing a student’s uniform. She was tall—for her age—wore her long blonde hair straight, and looked like she’d seen a ghost. The girl’s features were bony in a regal way, but what might have come off as elegant in another situation presented, thanks to the thinness of her frame, as gaunt instead.

She looked sick. In the way of someone who hadn’t been eating properly for months. Vivi was instantly concerned for the girl, whoever she might be, especially in combination with her expression, which reminded her of Aeris when Vivi had first showed up: pure panic and horror.

Blue eyes searched the hallway and failed to find their target, and the piercing, frantic gaze snapped to Vivi.

“Where did she go?” the girl demanded. “Where is she?”

Behind her, Vivi felt Saffra’s grip tighten on her robes, and her forehead press into her back. The girl was trembling. The last time she’d seen Saffra in a similar state was immediately following the encounter with the Morningstars, and that comparison, obviously, put her on high alert.

“Where is who?” she asked evenly.

The blonde girl stepped closer, eyes wide. She was breathing hard. “I know I saw her. I’m not crazy. Her hair was— but she— she can’t be here.” She took another step, and Vivi had to resist taking one back. “Who are you? And where did she go?”

Vivi returned the demands with stony silence and an unperturbed, bored expression. Though her pulse picked up internally, her body retained its stoicism. She watched the young woman for several long seconds, making it clear she wasn’t intimidated, then said, “And who might you be?”

The question seemed to anger the girl—then, slowly, bring her back to reality. Her eyes flicked down Vivi’s body, and she seemed to notice that Vivi wasn’t wearing a student’s uniform, nor was she even human. Clearly not a student here, as maybe she’d first assumed in her flustered state.

Realization dawned slowly, and—with a clearly herculean effort—she forced shaky composure back. She took three steps away to create an acceptable distance between them.

Stolen story; please report.

Her mouth opened, then closed.

“I— I thought—” A hand rose to clutch at her head, and she slouched in on herself, the brief control crumbling.

Despite the adrenaline Vivi felt, she almost stepped forward in concern.

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” the girl mumbled. Then turned and fled.

Silence filled the shelves. Saffra stayed cowering behind Vivi, clutching the back of her robes. Eventually, Vivi dispelled the [Invisibility] and said, “I’m assuming that was a classmate of yours. Maybe we should’ve gone with a more thorough disguise after all.”

The attempt to break the tension fell flat. It took nearly ten seconds for Saffra to respond. When she did, it was a quiet mumble.

“Of course. She’s the only one who would recognize me. The only one.”

Vivi had already held a suspicion about who that blonde girl was, but Saffra’s words all but confirmed it.

Saffra took a deep breath and separated herself from Vivi. “Sorry.” She didn’t meet Vivi’s eyes. “That was dramatic.”

Vivi considered her apprentice. She wasn’t sure what to say. “Let’s go sit down for a moment.”

They found a reading alcove and sat. To say that Saffra looked miserable would be an understatement. She didn’t even seem to care that Vivi was watching her—or, more likely, was stewing in her thoughts so deeply that she might have forgotten she had company at all.