Back at the Start (02)

I consider taking Red up on her offer. Getting out of this sweatshirt would be great, but if Emmy shows up and I'm not wearing it, I just know she's going to lose her mind again.

"No. My dress should be dry by now in the locker room, so I'll change back into that at the end of the day." I hesitate, reluctant to let the opportunity to change pass, but no, I have to let it go. "Thank you. You can get back to whatever you were doing."

I can't exactly pass on that, can I? I mean, sure, I have Galinthias now - theoretically - but Red doesn't give me judgemental eyes.

"You're such a good girl," I tell Red softly with a small smirk of satisfaction. I pull a few books out of my bag and hand them off to her, explaining the assignments. "You can take care of that, can't you?"

Sometimes I forget just how dedicated Red is to the cause. The cause being me, of course. I purse my lips, studying her like it's the first time I'm really seeing her, quiet for a few moments after her offer.

"What is it that I did to make you be so wonderful to me?" I ask finally, genuinely curious how Medora got this whole thing started.

In the moments where Willow considers her answer, I vacillate between assuming she's not going to answer at all and assuming it's something purely sexual that she's embarrassed to admit.

When she finally does answer, though, I'm struck by how...real it feels. Like Medora actually found a way to touch Willow's soul, even though that sounds very dramatic. I wonder if Medora actually saw something in her other than an opportunity. But now I'll never know for sure. Willow's version of what happened is the only one I'll ever get.

I realize I've been quiet for a beat too long after she finishes, struck by what she's shared. I reach out on impulse and take her free hand - the one not clutching my pile of books to her chest - in mine, squeezing. "You are more important than you know," I tell her, holding her gaze to allow the words a moment to sink in before I let go of her hand. "Thank you." This time my gratitude is earnest rather than dismissive, and it feels strange to be that way with Red, but in this moment she deserves it.

I'm not quite sure how to feel after Red leaves, so I push the thoughts aside to look back at the book I found. I flip through a few pages, hunting for names and events that seem...well...real. And then I flip to the back to the "About the Author" section to see who's behind this thing.

You flip through pages and are immediately struck by moments from your own life:
* the protagonist - Olivia, or "Liv", - frantically uses a half-learned spell to merge the split halves of her lover's soul
* Liv travels to Tartarus to convince the Titans to meet with the Olympians
* Liv's mother - Circe - leaves her island to visit Liv while she's in high school

The author has no pic, simply a name. Reggie Mayfield

My heart beats harder with every page I scan and every detail I find that stands out. When I finally check the author's info, my lips part in shock. Is this...did Regina write this? Before she died? Or...where did this book come from?

I find myself holding the book to my chest, as if I'm hugging it, absorbing wherever it came from into my heart. I close my eyes and whisper as if Regina will hear me, "Was this you?"

You reach deep, tugging on the threads of your magic, pulling the tangled skeins of reality and memory. As you focus on the book in your hands, the library around you fades into a hazy blur, and the visions begin.

First, you see a flash of Regina’s face - smiling, radiant, and full of life. It’s how she looked in the days before her death, her dark brown hair shining in the sunlight. She’s sitting at her desk, scribbling furiously into a notebook, surrounded by a chaotic sea of crumpled paper and open books. The title of your current novel flickers on the spine of one of the books nearby, confirming what you’ve begun to suspect.

The vision shifts, jarring and disjointed. Now, Regina looks pale, tired, and spectral, her eyes shimmering with the eerie glow of someone between worlds. She’s standing in a dimly lit room, muttering incantations over a stack of pages. The pages hover and swirl, forming into a bound book - this book. Her lips move, but her words are muffled like they’re coming through water. All you can catch are fragments: "...guide her… find the truth… she must see…"

Suddenly, you’re pulled into a whirlwind of overlapping scenes. You are standing by a grave, Regina’s grave, your emotions flaring with grief and confusion. Then you’re back in the library, watching yourself, as if from a distance, flipping through the novel while shadows flicker unnaturally around you. The scene ripples, and you see Regina again, looking at you with an expression that is equal parts fondness and urgency.

Her voice finally cuts through the chaos, sharp and clear: "I saw you die and live again. I wrote this for you, Jules. So you’d remember who you've been. And who you’re meant to be. Don't finish it, though... or your story's finished, too."

The visions recede like a tide pulling away, leaving you gasping and clutching the book. The last image lingers in your mind: Regina’s ghostly form fading into the distance, mouthing the words. "I love you."

Your hands tremble as you stare down at the book. The truth is undeniable: Regina wrote this. Not just about you, but for you.

My heart thunders inside of me, heavy and deep, the images of Regina so whole in my mind it feels like she might walk around the corner at any moment. But the image of her grave, her ghostly form, is there too, reminding me with fresh pain just how gone she is. But she...she left me this. This book is here to guide me, or help me, or...

Her warning echoes back in my mind - don't finish it, though.

I close my eyes and turn to the final page of the final chapter, then tear it out of the book, folding the page without reading it and shoving it deep into my backpack. There. I can't finish the book if there's not a page there to finish.

That done, I immediately flip back to chapter one and start to read in earnest, everything else forgotten in this moment.

The book is engrossing and you find a little thrill re-reading how things happened to Liv that didn't exactly happen to you, but feel similar to how they happened. It's a half-step off, but close enough that you can't stop reading. You don't even notice Emmy tapping your shoulder until Talia clears her throat loudly - which gets a shushing noise from someone nearby.

I jump a little when Talia finally pulls my attention away from the book. I'd forgotten all about the whole aura reading I agreed to, this reading being far more interesting to me. But I sigh and close the book, tucking it away in my backpack for later.

"Sure," I answer with another sigh. "Let's do this. Do you want to read my palms or should we find a mirror to chant Bloody Mary or something?"