Library of Rain

Rain sought out the refuge of her hoard room before looking over the results of her adventure. The first thing she looked over was her physical corruption. Why was it at three percent? It should only be at two. Had the description of ‘librarian’s search’ lied, or was it because Rain had made a deal with Ms. White? Rain felt like it was probably the latter. 

 

Giving her cloak a command to retract, Rain looked herself over in the mirror, searching for any changes. Her corruption was only at three percent, so any changes it made were probably unnoticeable, but she was curious. To her surprise, Rain did find something different: the tips of her fingernails were now as black as her hair. It wasn’t a major thing, but Rain was worried that she could already see changes after only three percent. Did that mean that her mental corruption was affecting her more than she realized?

 

Speaking of her mental corruption, it was at eighteen percent. How had it gotten so high? Rain had been watching to make sure it didn’t rise above fifteen. She didn’t notice anything off, but that worried her, given how her physical corruption had already started making changes with a fraction of the buildup. Was her mind being slowly changed? Would she become someone else without realizing it?

 

Rain decided to do what she always did with things she couldn’t change and ignored that impending identity crisis. She was who she was. 

 

Now for the exciting part: the book. Was this the kind of book that came with corruption like the books in the mist room, or was it safe like the books of petty secrets and the black book? Rain turned it over in her hands, feeling the raised swirls and watching the light it cast over the walls. 

 

There was no point going through all the trouble of finding this if she wasn’t going to open it. She would read just a little bit and try to understand what it was about. That way, she would know what she had to work with.

 

Plopping down on the straw bed, which was far stiffer than she remembered, Rain cracked open the cover. Nothing. No glowing hands or rushes of sight or sound. So far it seemed to be just a book. With a rush of excitement, Rain read the first paragraph.  

 

‘The esoteric art of soul manipulation, whereby one transmutes the very essence of being to disseminate attributes amongst oneself and others, stands as a testament to nobility and suffers from egregious misapprehension. The soul, that arcane vessel of one’s identity, concurrently harbors the mystical faculties and arcane rites meticulously honed through the annals of time. To endow or annex such capabilities is to forge a path toward unequivocal parity and tranquility, in stark contrast to the misguided harangues of those benighted charlatans who dare extol the soul’s inviolability.’

 

Rain felt a tear slide down her cheek. This book didn’t raise corruption; it did something far worse. It was written in I-want-to-sound-really-smart-ease, a language Rain had become familiar with and learned to hate during her studies. She couldn’t understand why anyone would waste time writing things down while trying to make it impossible to understand. Did they want people to read it or not?

 

Maybe she should go tell Ise and Lucus she was okay and come back to this book later. It made sense, but Rain had a suspicion that if she ignored this book now, it would only get harder to come back and read this cursed thing.

 

Rain found a pen, pulled out her black book, and started trying to decipher the pretentious tome. 

 

“So this part here; that means that I can take or give something in my soul to someone else. Based on this part and what Ms. White said about her summoning circle, the attributes you can share or take are skills.”

 

Rain took some notes on a blank page of the black book and returned to the soul book.

 

“Now, this part here is interesting. If a person’s soul is connected to their identity, then is corruption changing the soul?” 

 

She noted that question and then read the end three times before deciding it was just the author writing about something unimportant. That alone raised a bunch of questions. If this book was written by a person and not pure information condensed by the library like Rain had assumed, then who had written it? Were there people all over discovering things that were considered forbidden knowledge? Were their works confiscated, or did they simply end up in the library after they were forgotten?

 

As curious as Rain was, it wasn’t important right now. 

 

Rain turned to the next paragraph, but as she did, the black book acted. The notes Rain had written in the black book came to life, pealing themselves off the page and stretched into arms. Rain dropped both books and crawled back farther on the bed, keeping her eyes on the books. While she did, the arms of the black book reached over and ripped the first paragraph out of the soul book. Then, the word arms dragged their prey back and pulled it into the black book, leaving a blank spot on the original page where the pretentious intro used to be. 

 

Rain gingerly picked up the black book and opened it to her notes. On the page where her notes used to be was the pretentious intro, but at the same time, Rain’s notes were still there in the exact same place. Rain could clearly read both at the same time; it was like they were both there alone on that same spot.

 

Rain flipped through the book to see if there were any other changes, and sure enough, right under ‘Project Blueprints and Theories #74 - Amagustus.’ was a new line, ‘Understanding Whispers of the Soul - Rain Estom.’

 

Huh. That was interesting. Rain started looking through the book again for the Project Blueprints. But she still couldn’t find them. 

 

“Show me the Project blueprints.”

 

And… nothing. Rain turned back to the page, which showed two things at the same time. If the book could have two things written on the same page then why not three? The Blueprints had to be here somewhere, and Rain desperately wanted to know what they were of. Powerful swords? Flying ships? Or maybe a way to find a dragon! The only problem was Rain couldn’t convince the book to show her.

 

Rain paused from her deliberate procrastination of reading the next paragraph as a thought struck her: how did the black book work? Not in the ‘how could she use it’ sort of way, but deeper. A skilled item only did one thing, and it should only be able to do it once, but this book seemed different. Now that she thought about it, her cloak also seemed kinda odd. She was so used to it and its ability to change shape at will that she never paused to realize it didn’t follow the patterns of a skilled item.

 

They both came from the library, so maybe they were built differently. Maybe they were magic items like Ms. White talked about! Rain liked that idea, so she decided to call them magic items until she figured out how they worked.

 

Rain got so excited about the idea she forgot about procrastinating and let her eyes land on ‘Whispers of the Soul.' A jolt of guilt ran through her, reminding her that she needed to figure out how to use it to make a skilled item as fast as possible. Until she did that, fun ideas could wait. With a defeated sigh, Rain pulled the book back and read the next paragraph.

***

Swift-tail slipped into his newest hideout - a crack in the stones at the base of an old building. Unlike lesser humans, who were all ridged and bad at squeezing through tight spaces, Swift-tail’s roundish body easily squeezed into an oval shape, letting him slip in with ease. 

 

He was currently about two-thirds of the way through the Low Ring and his progress was too slow.

 

Getting through the city had been so much faster when the humans ignored him. Now, he only dared leave hiding at night, and he would spend most of his time searching for a good hiding place closer to the center. If he found one, he would take cover there and wait until the next night. If he didn’t, he would be forced to return to his last hideout to wait another day.

 

Nighttime wasn’t safe either. While there tended to be fewer lesser humans out, the streets were never completely empty, and Swift-tail’s white fur tended to be poor for camouflage in the black stone city. He’d even tried dying it with ash, but that had hardly helped.

 

Whatever. He would complain to the Goddess when he saw her. Until then, he would enjoy the fresh roll he’d stolen.

 

Swift-tail wriggled forward, curious to see where this crack led. Hopefully, he would find something more comfortable than the crack - not that he hadn’t slept in cracks before. 

 

After a minute of squirming forward and downward, Swift-tail popped out into a dank room full of cages. The smells of rot and filth were slightly stronger here than elsewhere in the Low Ring.

 

Swift-tail froze, eyes searching for movement. After a moment, he decided that this place was abandoned and padded forward.

 

The cages had people in them, but based on the lack of movement, they were all dead. Swift-tail found one that looked soft and climbed on top to eat his roll. He was a few bites in when he caught sight of movement in the corner of the room. Someone was alive in a small cage in there. 

 

Looking closer, Swift-tail saw a small lesser human kit stirring. Swift-tail wasn’t sure why everyone was dead here or why there was only one survivor, but his mama had taught him better than to leave an innocent kit to die. 

 

With a sigh and grumbling stomach, Swift-tail got up to share his roll with the lesser human kit. Hopefully, the kit would try to eat him or something and give him an excuse to leave. Then, he wouldn’t have to help. Or share his dinner.