3A. Biblioplex Mysteries

The sun had barely risen, and already the misty streets of Misthaven were alive with the shuffle of early risers.

Marlena Everbrook, bundled in her dark green cloak against the chilly morning air, stepped briskly toward the towering spires of the Biblioplex. She arrived earlier than usual —early enough to see the first flickers of dawn paint the sky a muted purple. It was a habit that had become necessary to get any time alone in the labyrinthine corridors of the library.

Today, she had been granted supervised access to the second-floor archives—an honor that filled her with both excitement and nervous tension.

She paused in front of the heavy doors of the main entrance, taking a deep breath. The air here always smelled of ancient parchment and polished wood, of ink and dust, and the faintest trace of something older, something more elusive—like the very essence of knowledge itself.

"Going somewhere without me, Everbrook?"

Marlena turned, surprised but not particularly startled. Kiraen Nyrazzrin stood at the top of the stairs, her violet eyes gleaming behind the dark lenses of her sunglasses. She looked as if she had been following Marlena from the moment she left the dorms, her light feet making no sound against the stone floor.

Standing in the early light, Kiraen carefully lifts her sunglasses, but regrets it.
Still very bright up here. But I'm getting better.
She smiles at Everbrook. Shall we go in and get started?
With a firm grab on the handle she pulls open the door.

Though she wasn't expecting company, she's glad to have Kiraen. "Uh... Sure! Of course. Though there was no need to follow me. I would've happily walked with you." She smiles back at the half-drow.

She steps into the Biblioplex and approaches the information desk. Given how early it is, there's hardly a line, which she's eternally grateful for. "Good morning, Rhamud. Those Tutela texts you recommended were quite insightful. Why, I'm already putting together a few Tutela-based prototypes." Marlena pulls up her sleeve, revealing a sleek, wrist-mounted gadget with several runes intricately carved into its brass surface. "I haven't got a name for this yet, but it deploys a barrier in response to danger. Or at least, it will in theory. I'm not too eager to put it to the test, as you can imagine."

"Anyways, you said you'd have someone available to supervise me on the second floor today? Who will it be?" She asks. "Oh, and would you mind if Kiraen came along? She works here too, so I figure it should be fine."

"Impressive work, Everbrook," Rhamud rumbled, leaning in slightly to inspect the runes. "Tutela-based magitech is ambitious. If you refine the etching and reinforce the base sigils, you’ll reduce the risk of feedback when the barrier deploys." His tone held no condescension—only the steady patience of a scholar.

Marlena beamed at the rare praise. "I was thinking the same thing! The current output is still a little unstable, but—"

"Ahem."

The sound, deep and deliberate, cut through their conversation. Marlena and Kiraen turned to see a towering figure emerging from between two of the enormous bookshelves.

Callador, the minotaur pledgemage, carried a heavy magical tome. His thick horns curved gracefully, polished to a gleaming sheen, and a pair of round, wire-framed glasses rested on the broad bridge of his snout. Though his frame was powerful and heavy, his movements were measured, every step careful and precise.

His bright green eyes regarded them. "Everbrook. Nyrazzrin. I trust you’re both ready to go upstairs?", he said, giving the heavy tome to Rhamud.

Yes we are. Ready to get to work. On biblioplex matters. Kiraen eyes Marlena with a small smile.
Kiraens stiletto wand is strapped to her thigh and her only other jewlery is a silver bracelet on her left wrist.

I suppose Callador's supervising us. She couldn't think of a finer choice. While working here in the Biblioplex, she had quickly grown to respect the minotaur's precision and attention to detail.

Marlena shares a look with Kiraen, returning the smile before looking back at Callador. "Yes. Please, lead the way, sir Callador."

While their small group is heading upstairs, she asks Callador a few questions. "So, what experience do you have with the second floor of the Biblioplex? How much more complex would you say it is compared to the first floor? Professor Lorridian said the books there interact with their readers. Just what does that mean exactly?"

Kiraen steps cautiously into the dim, flickering section - the illusion wing. The air hums with quiet enchantments, and as she peers between the shelves, her eyes catch on books that shimmer like heat haze—there one moment, gone the next. Some tomes fade in and out of sight entirely, while others shift in color and texture, flickering from leather-bound to crystal-covered with a blink. The shelves themselves seem to ripple, stretching longer or folding shorter as she moves. Runes pulse softly along the spines, rearranging into different titles when she looks away. Even her footsteps sound wrong here—muffled, delayed, or echoing in reverse.

She pauses, tilting her head. One book seems to watch her back. Another appears upside-down but reads normally. A soft whisper tickles her ear: Are you real? Kiraen grips her bracelet a little tighter and grins. This place is going to be fun.

"It seems Kiraen's already made her choice." Marlena smiles. She decides she'll peruse the illusion section for a little while alongside her. What could be the harm? She steps into the the section and picks the first book to catch her eye.

"The Secrets Within the Unseen... This book seems interesting." She pulls the book from the shelf and opens it to the first page.

What book? A whisper reaches her ear.

This startles her quite a bit, and when she blinks, the book is gone. Or maybe it never existed at all. There's only an empty space that she thought she pulled the book from.

"What in the world... I had it right in my hands." She hears ephemeral giggling from behind her. When she looks behind her, there's no one there, and once she looks back to where the book was, it's there again.

"Oh, I get it. Ha ha." Her cheeks burned indignantly. "You're quite the crafty book, aren't you?"

Marlena reached for the book again, this time keeping her grip firm. The leather beneath her fingers felt oddly warm, as if it were alive. As soon as she lifted it, the title on the spine flickered and shifted—The Secrets Within the Unseen became The Lies That Fool the Eye. Then Reflections of the Mind. Then Nothing at All.

Callador watched the two students with a quiet, knowing expression as they marveled at the shifting shelves and flickering books. Without a word, he reached for one of the tomes and opened the book. At first, the pages were blank. Then, ink blossomed across the parchment as if it had been waiting for an audience.

"Are you ready to see what isn't there?" - came a strange voice.

The words twisted and curled, shifting between languages, sometimes elegant script, sometimes runic glyphs, before finally settling into something legible. As they stared, the air around them seemed to waver. The shelves stretched impossibly high for a heartbeat before snapping back to their normal shape. The floor rippled beneath them, then smoothed.

Kiraen’s eyes flicked to Callador, but he remained unfazed, his green gaze steady as he watched the book’s magic unfurl.

---

He smiled and was about to say something when a pulse of unseen energy rippled outward from Marlena—subtle at first, like the shifting of air before a storm. The runes lining the bookshelves flickered, their steady glow dimming. The illusion magic woven into the space faltered. Shelves that had stretched impossibly high snapped back into their mundane forms. Books that had shimmered in and out of existence flickered wildly before turning utterly still, as if caught off guard.

Then, something far more alarming happened.

The Tutela wards—woven into the very foundation of the Biblioplex’s second floor—began to fray. The protective sigils embedded in the walls and shelves, meant to contain volatile magic and safeguard readers from unpredictable tomes, wavered. A soft crackling filled the air, like static before a lightning strike. Symbols that had glowed steadily for centuries unraveled into meaningless spirals of ink before vanishing altogether.

Callador’s ears flicked, his steady hands snapping the book shut as his deep green eyes locked onto Marlena.

Marlena stares back at Callador with wide eyes as she tries to process what just happened. "I..."

She's no stranger to losing control here and there, but rarely was it so spontaneous and destructive. Questions of what could've brought this wave on bounced around in her head, but they are dwarfed by the fact that Callador seemed to know it was her. Or at least, she felt as if he did. Dread fills her mind, whispering to her that she'll be punished severely for destroying the protective wards.

Fear overtaking reason, she suddenly turns tail and sprints out of the illusion section, leaving Kiraen and Callador behind. She tries to escape deeper into the library as fast as her feet can take her.

Kiraen looks at Callador, trying to guage his response to Marlena fleeting. It takes her a heartbeat to long, to realise that she is supposed to follow Marlena, and if nothing else, make sure that she doesn't anger some other books - with more physical effects.

Marlena! Where are you? Come back. Kiraen goes looking for her classmate.

Marlena manages to avoid Kiraen's notice for now by ducking into the Magical Artifacts & Objects section. She doesn't dare move until she hears Kiraen's footsteps fade into the distance.

What am I doing...? There's nowhere to run. Just own up to it, would you?

However, the thought of Callador's fury stops her from coming out of hiding. She's never seen him angry, but his hulking build makes her afraid to find out what it'd be like. There's also the thought of Professor Lorridian potentially being disappointed in her. What if he doesn't allow her back in the Biblioplex? She can't abide the thought of being cut off from so much knowledge.

What now, then?

First, she figures she should calm down before she ends up letting another pulse loose. She breathes in and out, visualizing the disorderly, corrosive flow of mana within herself. It's vibrating wildly in response to her heightened emotional state. She imagines the mana calming gradually.

"Everbrook," Callador said slowly, evenly, to no one in particular. "What, exactly, did you just do?"

---

Marlena
Marlena pressed her back against the cool wooden shelves, squeezing her eyes shut as she focused inward. In... and out. She inhaled slowly, feeling the flickering energy within her chest, restless and volatile. Like a storm trapped inside her, it pulsed against her ribs, seeking an outlet. She had never been formally trained in controlling it—she had only ever suppressed it. But now, it was clear that wasn’t enough.

Control. Restraint. She imagined her mana as turbulent water, churning and surging. With each measured breath, she willed the currents to settle, picturing a still pond in her mind. The wild vibrations lessened. The tension in her fingers eased. The dissonant hum beneath her skin quieted.

When she finally opened her eyes, the second floor of the Biblioplex was eerily silent. Too silent. The ever-present rustling of books had ceased. The whispers that usually echoed in the illusion wing were gone. Even the air, which had been thick with ambient magic, now felt... hollow. Something had changed.Kiraen
Kiraen slowed her search, her keen eyes scanning the dim corridors of bookshelves. At first, she had been focused on finding Marlena before the girl could blunder into more trouble, but now—now, there was something else.

The atmosphere had shifted. The usual hum of magic that pulsed faintly through the second floor was absent, like a heartbeat suddenly stopped. Even the enchanted books, normally fidgeting with movement, had gone unnaturally still.

She pressed her lips into a thin line, resisting the urge to shiver. The Biblioplex was ancient, a place of layered magics and careful protections. And yet, something had emptied the space. It wasn’t just silence—it was a void.

"Marlena?" she called again, softer this time.

Dorian
Dorian LaCroix strode through the grand entrance of the Biblioplex, looking for his cabal. He had been hoping to find them before his first lecture. Instead, he walked into a commotion.

The quiet murmur of students reading and studying had turned into scattered, uneasy whispers. A few looked up from their work, frowning as if something felt off. The more magically inclined among them seemed especially tense—one girl rubbed her temples as though feeling a headache, while another glanced upward toward the second floor, brows furrowed.

Dorian hesitated. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but the air around him felt strange—thin, like the moment before a spell collapsed in on itself. Before he could ask someone about it, a heavy thud from the reference desk caught his attention.

Rhamud, the elderly mage who oversaw much of the Biblioplex's first floor, had just snapped a tome shut with finality. Without a word, he rose from his chair, his robes shifting with slow, deliberate movement. His gnarled hands adjusted the sash at his waist before he turned toward the stairs leading to the second floor.

He didn’t move hurriedly, but the intent behind his steps was unmistakable. The old librarian was going to check what happened.

And Dorian, feeling the unmistakable pull of curiosity, found himself debating whether or not to follow.

The change in the atmosphere is putting Kiraen on edge. She summons a small ball of light. The very first illusion she was able to cast consistently. She doesn't need it to see with, but she wants to get a feel for the magic, or lack thereof.

The silence and the distinct lack of magic is unsettling to Marlena, but she tries to ignore it for now. Seeing that the only way to handle this situation is to face it head-on, she decides to seek out Kiraen first. She feels it will be somewhat easier to explain herself with a friendly face at her side.

She leans out of the Magical Artifacts & Objects section and looks both ways before leaving it. Even the magical lanterns lighting the place were affected by the wave, casting much of the floor in shadows, but she refrains from producing a light source for now. She scurries past several rows of bookshelves. She remembers how Callador mentioned that not all the books on this floor were harmless, so she tries to keep her guard up. Though, maybe she would like to be attacked by a crazy book right about now. It would assure her that at least some of the books weren't damaged.

She thinks she saw a flicker of light from a few rows over, so she starts heading that way, cutting through the Magical Philosophy & Ethics section in the process. She can only assume that the books would probably engage in a debate with their readers on a variety of topics. While walking, she sees a book regarding the ethics of summoning life with Creatio. She doesn't have much of an opinion on it, but she slides the book out anyway and slowly opens it, intent on seeing if the book would 'wake up' or say anything.

Dorian follows after Rhamud, his worry riding to New Heights ™. His eyebrows nearly touch they're so knit and he says to the librarian, "Careful, sir, something odd had been going on here. I'm at your service if you need a hand."

What he could do to help, he dared not speculate.

Kiraen
Kiraen’s fingers curled instinctively, tracing the familiar pattern in the air—three swift arcs, then a flick of the wrist. It was the first illusion she’d ever been able to cast: a simple orb of light, flickering and gentle, like a will-o’-wisp.

She didn’t need it to see; her eyes were far better suited to the dark than most. No, this was something else entirely. A test. A feeler.

She whispered the incantation under her breath, her voice steady, but the moment the final syllable left her lips, she felt it—resistance. The magic didn’t come easily. It clung to the air like wet ash, sluggish and uncooperative. The energy around her, normally responsive to her call, hesitated. For a moment, she feared it wouldn’t answer at all.

Then—flicker.

A small orb sputtered to life above her palm, dim and wavering. It pulsed weakly, like a candle fighting a breeze. Kiraen frowned, narrowing her eyes at the wavering light.

It worked, she thought. But only just.

Marlena
As Marlena carefully opened the book, a faint gust of air blew from between its pages—dry, papery, and oddly resentful. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, from the open text, a voice emerged.

"Oh, splendid," it sighed, every syllable soaked in exhausted sarcasm. "Another dilettante fumbling through the summoning ethics without so much as a foundational understanding of anima theory. Truly, my bindings quiver with anticipation."

Dorian
Rhamud didn't stop, but he did glance sideways, his expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood. His gnarled hand tightened slightly around the carved staff he leaned on with each step, the soft thump-thump of it echoing up the stairs like a heartbeat in the silence.

"Odd," he muttered, as if tasting the word. "Yes… odd is a start."

Dorian's boots thudded beside him, more hurried now as he tried to keep pace. The silence on the second floor pressed down like heavy velvet, muffling the world. Dorian's usual quick wit had shriveled into a knot of unease in his chest.
Rhamud finally stopped at the top of the stairs and looked at him—truly looked at him. His pale eyes, clouded yet sharp, studied Dorian like he was a spell gone partially wrong but still functional.

"You’ve got nerve," the old mage said. "That’s something. Not always the same as sense, but valuable in a pinch."

He tapped the end of his staff against the floor once, and the subtle magic woven through the Biblioplex shivered, like a harp string strummed out of tune.

"The weave’s thinned," Rhamud murmured, almost to himself. "Something here is unraveling it. We’ll find it. With any luck… we won’t lose too much. Can you cast Tutela spells?"

Kiraen moved silently through the pitch-black rows of the library, the usual floating lanterns extinguished like snuffed-out stars. Her steps were slow, measured. Careful not to let her boots echo across the marble. Shadows clung thick around the corners of shelves and beneath the tables, but she didn’t need light—not now.

Her glasses were tucked into the collar of her blouse, forgotten. Her crimson eyes gleamed faintly in the dark, wide and alert, perfectly adapted to the absence of light. For once, the world was quiet enough for her to see clearly.

And she was looking for Marlena.

Marl? she whispered once, voice barely louder than the rustle of parchment. No reply. Only the heavy hush of magic gone still.

The books no longer hovered. Some were open mid-air, frozen in place. Others had dropped onto tables or tumbled to the ground, lying like fallen birds with their runes faded to inkless impressions. No glow, no hum. Whatever force animated the library's illusions had drained away.

She passed one of the grand silver mirrors that lined the perimeter of the illusion wing—its reflection no longer quite right. Her own image flickered. Just a little too slow. A little too long to blink. She tightened her grip on the stiletto wand.

Come on, Marl…How can I have your back if you are hiding from me? she breathed, rounding a corner.

Then—barely audible—a shuffling sound.

Not far. Close. A scuffed boot, maybe. A whisper of movement behind one of the arches. Kiraen crouched low, blade angled downward, every muscle tensed. The spider tattoo on her thigh pulsed faintly with old magic. She felt no spellwork flow to her fingertips. No heat. No whisper of power.

Kiraen and Marlena
Kiraen crept forward, drawn by the faintest noise. And there—half-silhouetted in the low gloom—stood Marlena.

Her form was tense, but not frightened. She had one hand on a nearby shelf for balance, the other holding a magical book. The tome was still open, muttering in a cantankerous drawl, "—And if I hear one more unoriginal wizard ask about golem labor laws and their rights, I will redact myself in protest. Don’t tempt me."

Kiraen moves quickly and snaps the book closed, before Marlena can react.
What is going on here? Did it hurt you?

"Is the question not relevant though...? What is the difference between a golem and a summoned beast-"

Marlena almost yelps when Kiraen shuts the book, but she barely manages to push that impulse down. "N-No, it didn't hurt me. I was just checking one of these books to see if it was still functional.

"Um..." She hesitates to go on, but she swallows and finds her nerve. "I'm sorry, it was me that destroyed the Tutela wards, and perhaps a lot of books too. I didn't intend to, but I couldn't keep it under control. It just came out without warning. This... This power, I don't know what to call it, or where it originates from. I've just been trying to keep it in check until I could find a lead on it. That's what I intended to do here, but look how that turned out. I'm going to lose my job. What if I'm saddled with a massive debt? What if I'm expelled?" Her anxiety continues to grow.

Stop being stupid Marlena!
Go talk to Callador, tell them the truth, and trust that they will take care of this. To them, this is just a new challenge just as... golems vs summoned creature -whatever. Kiraen waves her hands dismissively.

Kiraen leads Marlena out of the stacks and back to the library proper where they can find Callador.

Dorian nods a little, then clears his throat. "Yes, tutela spells, at least the basics. The weave, you say. Sounds positively devilish. You should know, then, that I am not one to judge on what is normal around here, if anything can be said to be. Does this weave thin often? Say everyday at this time? Or has it never before been this bad? I couldn't tell, so warn me if this is mundane or unprecedented."

He's rather pleased hearing himself speak, and enjoys the turn of phrase. Still, he mentally prepares for the worst, despite his roguish demeanor.

Dorian
Rhamud stroked his long, silver-streaked beard, the motion slow and thoughtful as his gaze drifted toward the vaulted ceiling of the Biblioplex. "Not everyday," he rumbled at last, his voice the worn timbre of ancient tomes and long winters. "But not unheard of either. The Biblioplex is—how shall I say it—a place of accumulated intricacies."

He gestured vaguely around them with a gnarled hand, as if the very architecture listened.

"So many enchantments layered over one another. Wards, counter-wards, detection spells, protections, automation, illusions, sapient books with opinions, libraries within libraries... It’s a miracle the place doesn’t implode from the arcane strain."

His lips curled into the ghost of a smile, though his eyes remained sharp beneath the low brim of his hat.

"Think of it like a castle of cards made from raw spellcraft. Every addition must be placed with care, or the whole weave trembles. Most of the time, the wards hold steady. But once in a while… something nudges the wrong thread."

He tilted his head at Dorian, studying the young man.

"This time feels different, though. The tremor wasn’t just imbalance—it was something unraveling, intentionally or otherwise." His voice dropped to a low murmur. "I suspect we’re about to find out which."

Then, almost as an afterthought, he turned toward one of the sections at the second floor. The floating lights that should have danced overhead were flickering like fireflies caught in wind. "Come if you’d like, LaCroix," he said over his shoulder. "But don’t stray. The library notices strangers when its balance is shaken."

Many questions raced through Marlena's mind regarding what would happen to her, but she would rather not risk disturbing Callador's focus. She goes over to the alcove and eyes the seemingly dejected chair warily before sitting down slowly and carefully.

She's still holding the book from the ethics section, but she keeps it tucked under her arm for now. She's too uneasy to continue the debate with it.

"I can't believe he's going to put the wards back up on his own. He must be quite skilled." She whispers to Kiraen.

Ofcorse he is stilled. This is also his job. We might be involved with ward maintenance as well. Kiraen muses over this thought for a moment
No what I had envisioned when I applied for this job, but interesting nonetheless.

Kiraen stands with her friend in silence for a moment more before she adds.
You should properly put that book down. Make a note of it, and borrow it at your own time. Not during work
Kiraen hands Marlena a small notebook with a few titles that caught Kiraens eye


The Mirror That Lied: A Practical Guide to Illusions and Deception
Author: Proctor Vellum of the Seven Reflections

Threads of the Unseen: Weaving Magic in Darkness
Author: Maerithen Duskmire

Fang & Flame: The History of Duelist Wands and Their Masters
Author: Archmage Orlon Thornfield

Moonlight on Marble Skin: A Tale of Velvet Vows and Venomous Vows
Author: Lira Vexheart

Dorian relishes the chance to explore the library in more details. "I'll check the librarians office. Perhaps they left notes before fleeing."

He passes through the library, stacks of books towering around him, trying not to 'stray' which to him means 'moving fast and not staying still'.

The spines of the books call to him, his curiosity drawn but he shoves that into a corner of his mind. Making his way, he listens for signs of magical mischief and mystical mayhem.

Dorian
On the way to the librarians office, they found Callador kneeling near a scorched floor rune, fingers gently tracing the faded gold inlay of a ward circle. One of the Tutela sigils had collapsed inward, the shape warped like wax under heat. A second, subtler glyph—Excidium—pulsed faintly beneath it, a warning ripple in the protective lattice of the floor.

"Second layer wasn’t just active," Callador rumbled, not looking up. "It was amplified. Something—someone—disturbed the weave, and the Excidium magic overcompensated. Tried to purge a threat that wasn’t even attacking."

Rhamud sighed through his nose. "As I feared. The Tutela spells were overwhelmed, not broken. This defensive layering is too complex. Anyway, you said it was misaligned… by what, I wonder?"

He knelt beside the minotaur and extended a hand, fingertips glowing faintly. A shimmer of arcane script appeared over the floor—a diagnostic spell, slowly mapping out the damaged threadwork.

Callador leaned back slightly to give him space. He explained: "The backlash spread like a skipped stone—no pattern, but more than one pocket of instability. I’ve stabilized the west wing for now, but I suspect there were multiple causes. Regardless, if we reroute the grounding sigils, I believe we can bring the others back under control."

"Mm. Already on it," Rhamud muttered, flicking his fingers. A soft hum filled the air as the golden threads realigned and fed gently into the floor again. The lights overhead flickered, then steadied.

Meanwhile, Callador rose to his full height and turned towards Dorian. "LaCroix. If you're looking for your fellow students, Kiraen and Marlena went east. Nearest reading alcove should still be intact."

Then to Rhamud, with a low growl, "Let’s finish this. I want to get home before another wave of sorcery influences the books to rewrite themselves and change the DCC as if that meant the Drow Decimal Classification system. Again. Mage Emeritus Dewey hates that prank."

"I'm not on the clock. But I suppose you have a point nonetheless... I should borrow it properly when I can." Marlena carefully takes the notebook and looks at it. She seems impressed.

"Oh. Thornfield? Duskmire? Proctor Vellum? You have a very good eye, Kiraen! Can't say I've had the pleasure of reading the works of this 'Lira Vexheart' though. What about you? Are you familiar with her work?"

ehm.... Well...Vexhearts writing is very... Ehm... Engaging and grafic Kiraen is embarrassed as any young girl would be when her flavor of smut has been called out.

Dorian frowns and runs off to find his classmates.

"Is it now? Don't worry about me, I'm no stranger to graphic works." Marlena smiles. She's blissfully unaware as to what Kiraen really means. "If you think it's engaging, I'll have to borrow one of her books sometime. Which would you recommend?"

From the corner of her eye, she notices Dorian's approach. Her focus turns to him, saving Kiraen from having to answer. "Dorian? What brings you here?"

Dorian is relieved to see Marlena. "I was looking for you two, and found the librarians downstairs befuddled by disturbances in the library. Tell me, what's happening and how can I help?"

I would suggest A Touch of Twilight Silk Its about a noble fae heir who binds himself to a mortal illusionist in a pact that blurs love, identity, and reality.

Oh hi Dorian. Kiraen has very flushed cheeks.

Well there was an incident, but I think we have it under control, right Marlena?
Perhaps Callador knows something by now. He was working on the wards.

He blushes at the overheard description of what might be a lurid tale of ribald adventure.

"Yes, Callador appears to be on top of things. He referred to a backlash of some sort, and having to reroute the wards."

"A Touch of Twilight Silk... Noted. Sounds lovely. I do enjoy a good tale of romance." Marlena writes it down in her own journal.

"Yes, all under control!" She says a little too fast, looking rather guilty. "I'm afraid that backlash was my doing, but I don't expect to cause any more trouble. Why don't we return to Callador and see what we can do to help? I can hardly just sit here while he fixes my mess."

Kiraen was the first to notice it. Her eyes, sharper than most in low light, caught the glint of something that shouldn’t be there—a shimmer between the shelves just beyond Marlena’s shoulder. It moved with a kind of twitchy, unnatural rhythm, almost as if its limbs bent in ways that defied anatomy.

She narrowed her eyes.

"Marl… don’t make any sudden movements," she murmured, slowly raising a hand to indicate stillness. "There’s something watching us."

Marlena blinked. "What—?"

And then it hissed.

From between the cracked bindings of an overturned shelf, a creature unfurled like a slinking shadow. Barely two feet tall, with leathery crimson skin and wings that looked more like shredded parchment than flesh, the imp crawled into view. Its yellow eyes glowed faintly in the dimness, and its grin stretched too wide, too many teeth for something that small. A faint trace of sulfur wafted in the air behind it, carried on the flick of its barbed tail.

It perched atop a half-burned volume of Illusions and Instincts, claws tapping on the cover. Watching. Waiting.

"Tutela!" Dorian exclaims unnecessarily, other than to explain to the others what he attempts. Which is to form a barrier between them and the imp.

He wonders if this is some fiend sent by his tormentor, but it seems wrong somehow.

She slowly turns to face the imp. Her green eyes go wide with fear. "A-An imp...!? Here? Why?" Marlena backs off slowly as she pulls her Decayer off her belt, but she doesn't aim it yet, afraid that such a motion would set the creature off. She quickly wracks her mind for information she may have picked up regarding imps.

Results in my next post.

The shimmer of Dorian’s magic surged to life in front of them, and a rippling barrier expanded like a soap bubble of glimmering blue light, settling between them and the imp. The barrier hummed with protective energy—faint, but present.

The imp hissed, flinching back as the barrier snapped into place, then leered with renewed curiosity, its claws drumming on the fallen book like it was amused.

---

Marlena’s mind spun through what she’d read:

Imps—minor fiends, commonly used as familiars or spies by warlocks and demons. Capable of turning invisible, shapeshifting into small animals, and usually aligned with trickery or chaos. They’re opportunists, more likely to observe and scheme than outright attack unless cornered. They love fear. Feed on it.

---

Meanwhile, Kiraen’s eyes scanned the creature sharply, searching for inconsistencies: a shifting shadow, an outline that didn’t hold, any signs of glamor or trickery. But what she saw made her grip tighten on her stiletto wand.

No shimmer. No blur. The shadow lined up with the lanterns, dull as they were. Its body had weight. Its breathing stirred dust on the pages beneath its perch. The scent was real, acrid and sulfurous. This was no illusion.

She let out a quiet breath. "It’s real."

The imp leaned forward, pressing a claw to the barrier, where it sizzled softly. Its voice rasped, more curious than hostile.

"You broke the wards, little green-eyed girl... You cracked the door. So many secrets, so many little lies... and so many open doors. Shall I stay awhile?"

Show no fear.

Marlena steps out from behind Kiraen and leans in to meet the imp's gaze through the barrier. She tries to project confidence and mask her fear.

"You can, if you want. Though I suspect you'll get bored here, little one. It's just books, books and more books. My idea of heaven, really, but that might not be the case for you. The assistant librarian will have the ward back up shortly, so why don't you fly back to your master before you get trapped in here? Can't imagine you'd like that."

Dorian's eyes go wide but he knows better than to break a feint. He nods at the imp, and says, "Yeah." He concentrates on holding the shield.

The imp claws skittered across the surface of Dorian’s shimmering ward, testing it again with a curious prod. Tiny arcs of energy sparked at the contact, but it didn’t recoil this time. Instead, it leaned in until its leathery nose was nearly pressed against the barrier, grin stretching far too wide for its face.

"Oh no," it purred, voice curling like smoke. "My master sits fat and sullen in his Hell, glutted on the screams of oath-breakers. He doesn’t even know I’m gone. I slipped through the crack when the pretty green one—" it cast Marlena a slow, oily wink "—unwound the nice tidy stitches in this little tower of whispers. I was just going to read a book." It gave a theatrical sigh, tail twitching behind it like a metronome. "But now you’ve made it better."

It turned its gaze lazily between them, locking briefly with Dorian. "You’re sweating," it said with amusement. Then to Kiraen: "And you drew a line on your blade. Why? So you’ll know how far to bury it before you panic?"

Its eyes glimmered. "You're afraid. All of you. I can smell it. The fear. The potential. I love potential."

The imp sniffed the air again and grinned broader, crouching low like it was about to pounce—testing their nerves, their resolve, and perhaps their fear of escalation.

"Make me leave," it whispered.

Dorian had been in Dimitar situations as the imp, seemingly having the upper hand in a confrontation even if house goal is only a rude sort of entertainment. That is, pushing someone to act in a certain way.

"Mister imp, your master sounds lovely, just lovely. I'm sure that you would find conversation with us more entertaining than a dusty book or fisticuffs. What say you?"

"Mmm… Flattery and an invitation to parley?" it drawled, licking a fang with a forked tongue. "You’ve got better manners than most mages I’ve met in the mortal stacks."

It glanced at the ward with a raised brow ridge, then casually sat down on a crooked shelf, tail curling around another book.

"Very well, boy with the charming voice. Talk, if you like. Impress me. I’m all ears—and claws—and teeth, of course, but mostly ears for now."

Dorian feels the thrill, his soul likely on the line, but given what he'd done to it, is it even worth much anymore?

He lets hiss mind wander and then asks, "A crafty being you are, to escape your masters hell to come here to read books. In your secret forbidden musings, have you heard of a nasty tasty bit of magic called the 'Hollow Quill Incident'?"

"Ohhh, now you’ve got my attention, my boy," it purred. "The Hollow Quill... now that was a delightfully wicked affair."

Its tail lashed behind it like a cat’s, excitement barely contained.

"Faculty going rogue, Dominatio magic running wild, memories shredded like parchment in a storm… one of your professors tried to pin it all on a summoned construct, as I recall. Poor thing just wanted to write poetry." The imp snorted.

"I wasn’t there, mind you. But word of it drips through the cracks between realms, like ink through vellum." It tapped its temple. "It’s become a bit of a bedtime story down in the Bleak Archives. ‘Don’t let the mortal mages get bored or they’ll start rewriting your soul,’ we say."

It turned its gaze sharply back to Dorian. "Why do you want to know about it? Thinking of trying to do it yourself? I do love a scandal."

Marlena swallows thickly and falls silent, but a certain thing the imp says ends up catching her attention, so she can't help but speak up.

"The Bleak Archives? What is that? Do you mean to say there's more to the Biblioplex?" She asks, thoroughly intrigued despite her fear. She realizes she's getting ahead of herself, so she tries to employ flattery as Dorian did. "Oh, um... If you could spare a bit of your knowledge to this humble mortal, that would be so kind of you. I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot."

Dorian presses further. "All the secrets will be mine someday. This sort of magic is exactly what I'd love to learn here. What better secret than one no one knows you know? The chaos I could cause with that." His eyes go blank, living the delicious thoughts.

Of course, it is a ruse of sorts. He hopes that his allies don't call him out in front of the twisted being, it likely wouldn't take kindly to being played so clumsily. Of course, that would be one way out of this impasse.

"What I wouldn't give to learn who is this expert magician."

The imp raises a spindly brow ridge and gives Marlena a slow, theatrical blink. Its leathery wings flex slightly, and then it leans in as if to share a delicious secret.

"Oho... what’s this? Polite and curious? My favorite kind of mortal." It clasps its little clawed hands together as if genuinely touched. "Yes, sweet little sapling, the Bleak Archives. Not part of your Biblioplex, oh no no no. But a place like it, in a sense—deep in the folds of the Lower Realms. A library of forbidden memories, truths no tongue dares to speak, and histories that even time itself choked on."

It grinned wider, clearly pleased with the effect of its words.

"Some say it was built by a forgotten god of knowledge. Others say it’s just what happens when too many secrets die in the same place." It winks at Marlena.

"But I hear echoes of your Biblioplex in its walls sometimes. And maybe… I hear echoes of it here, as well..."

Its gaze sharpens.

"Wouldn’t it be curious if the two were linked somehow? Hmm?"

Then it tilts its head with mock innocence. "But perhaps I’ve said too much. I’m just a poor runaway imp, after all. What do I know?"

Dorian laughs genuinely, but his eyes turn to a kind of sharpness. The imp would use whatever guile it had to turn them against each other or set them against innocents.

"There it is, the twist. Come now demon, you've out stayed your welcome. Shall we bind you into one of the books you do love? A guide to archaic sand classification, perhaps, that shall never be checked out again? A little floor on the pages... Yes, a plan forms."

"You do know we're in a mystical library, don't you? I don't think any of that will be a problem. And your master's fury ? You won't have the pleasure of watching him scream when you're, as I was saying, bound in a unwanted book."

Okay Dorian, step one, scare him off. If that fails, we kick his ass and then figure out how to do that binding stuff. Orrrrr, we stick him in the puzzle box. Yeahhhhhhh.

He focuses on imaging the binding ritual, as he may not to conjure that momentarily. He looks at the women, hoping they'll back him up on his unformed plan.

"Dor-" Marlena catches herself just before she ends up saying Dorian's name. It wouldn't be wise to let that slip to the imp. "Sorry. Are you sure, though? He hasn't done anything yet."

She knows better than to believe the imp is up to anything good, but the idea of the Bleak Archives calls to her curiosity. What could she find out in such a place? Probably more on the Hollow Quill incident that the faculty has worked so hard to scrub from the records. No, that would only be the beginning.

"I just think we have more to gain by establishing a rapport with... What's your name?" She looks over at the imp. "I'm Marlena."

She presses a gloved hand against the barrier. The spell was meant to keep the imp out rather than keep them in, so she's able to push her hand through, albeit with some resistance. She's presenting a handshake to the imp. Her heart is nearly beating out of her chest, but she maintains a steady gaze.

Dorian bows lightly, returning to the polite demeanor of earlier. "I defer to my better mannered colleagues."

Zh'rakkalith'vessk'thunael, please leave this university

Marlena decides to give it a shot. "Please, Your Grace. It would be best for you to leave for now. Time runs short. I do want to know more about the Bleak Archives though. If I wished to call upon you at a later date, what would I need? Just Creatio, your formal name and the proper rituals?"

Dorian concentrates, thinking it through and willing his will to be done, yet he says simply, "Please Zessk."

Gone, just like that. Marlena almost believed that Zessk was never here in the first place. Almost. That claw touching her hand was unmistakably real, undeniably otherworldly. She'd just met her first demon, and the encounter wasn't... unpleasant. It certainly had the potential to be, but no one got hurt. It is while she's still processing what happened when Callador arrives.

Marlena turns to face Callador. She decides to bend the truth some, omitting the details of the conversation. "It was just here. Got in when the wards went down, it said. It didn't say much of consequence. It simply spoke in perplexing riddles and trickery until it heard you coming, then it simply vanished."

"On that note, how are the wards doing? There was no lasting damage, was there?" Some worry creeps into her voice. "I can explain. Just don't ban me. This was all so I could learn about why this happens to me."

Kiraen looks affronted at Marlena.
She fears to be expelled and lies about the imp?
Kiraen made a promis to have her back, and that is the only thing holding her back from telling the truth

Marlena holds a tense breath, afraid that Callador may pry the details out of her, but when he seems to move on from the topic, she lets herself relax. That sense of relief is short-lived though. Lorridian wants to see them? "I see... We shouldn't keep him waiting long then."

"Something else...?" Her eyes widen. In a sense, it was good to know she wasn't solely at fault for this. However, an unnerving thought strikes her. Was it mere coincidence that this other party struck at the same time as her sudden loss of control? Or had she unwittingly played a role in some plan?

"Yes, Sir Callador. We can start right away once we see the professor." Marlena flashes Kiraen a sheepish look and leans in to whisper an apology to the half-drow. "Sorry about dragging you into this. I really owe you one."

She's prepared to head for Professor Lorridian's office as soon as he is ready to see them.

Kiraen starts to pick up books and shelf them. She leaves the loose papers to Marlena to handle. The damage to the bookshelves is a task they will return to after their meeting with Professor Lorridian.
Once the worst of the mess is cleared up, then she will head to the professor's office.

Dorian is a little put out that he's fallen into janitorial duties, but then realizes that they're assistant librarians. "I won't get in your way then, I'd likely file the sand histories with the glassware treatises!"

Marlena tentatively approaches Lorridian's desk. She's not sure what to expect. "Good day, Professor Lorridian. Am I right to assume you want our own recount of the incident?"

Marlena takes in a breath and slowly releases it. "Very well... I'll start. This started when I went up to the second floor's archives with Kiraen. We were just starting to peruse the illusion wing under Sir Callador's supervision when I accidentally released an anti-magical pulse of sorts. It disturbed the books and the lights, but more than that, it caused the Tutela wards to come undone. Though I should mention someone else apparently tried to dispel the wards at the same time and partially succeeded. Those two factors combined were likely more than the wards could withstand."

"I'm ashamed to admit I panicked and hid myself, but Kiraen brought me back to my senses and we returned to Sir Callador. While he went to reestablish the wards, Kiraen stayed with me. Dorian came waltzing along at that point. Soon after that, Kiraen notices an imp observing us. Dorian puts a barrier between it and us, but it was just... watching. Observing. It spoke a lot of nonsense designed to rattle us, typical of a demonic trickster. His kind feeds on fear after all. We stayed like that for a while until it heard Sir Callador approaching and proceeded to vanish. After that, Sir Callador informed us you wanted to speak with us as soon as possible once Rhamud concluded his report."

Dorian adds, "I was looking for them and found the librarians in a turmoil, attempting to curtail some disturbance but not overly concerned. I followed their directions and found the ladies and then as she said, we found ourselves under the gaze of an imp. I'm just glad that we survived with our souls intact."

I would not call the imps speech nonsens. It was coherent, trying tempt, lie and/or manipulate us. But compartmentalize it as nonsens makes its words easier to dismiss.

Other than that, I have nothing to add.

"I look forward to your classes next week." Marlena bows her head slightly. However, guilt is etched onto her face once again. Of course, she knows the significance of the Biblioplex on a logical level, but it is truly sinking in now. She doesn't want to threaten the security of such a wonderful collection of knowledge by merely being there.

"If I'm going to be helping you though, I should figure out a way to avoid being a liability. If I don't control whatever this is—" She looks at her hands. "—It will just happen again. I've been trying to research it on my own to avoid undue attention, but maybe that was the wrong approach. May I have your guidance, Professor Lorridian?"

Dorian looks to the women, but sees that they're in to of things. "If you need my help, I'll be in the usual places."

He shares a look with them, they've all shared something incredible, and dark.

He will leave.