33. Sybil

Chapter 33

Sybil

I s he going to be alright?" Aramis hovers over his best friend, who lies writhing in one of the infirmary beds between us.

"I've done everything I can, and so have the healers here, but he took extensive damage. It's up to his body now to fight."

I lean against the side table, dipping the cloth into the basin of fresh water from the underground springs. My body aches, but I pay no mind to the discomfort as I focus on soothing Nero's fevered body. His breathing is labored, and his murmurs grow more coherent but still laced with delirium. The makeshift infirmary has rows of single white beds lining one stone wall, all with curtains wrapping around them. Despite being deep in the cool stone tunnels, the heat radiating off his body causes sweat to bead along my brow, plastering my hair to my face.

"He's burning up." I dab his forehead with the moist cloth. "Keep fighting, Nero," I whisper.

The high priestess and the Council of the white witches had welcomed us despite their strict security measures. Granted, we did look as if we'd come back from the front lines of battle, all battered up with burned clothes, tattered shoes, a thick layer of dust on our skin and hair, and a barely alive draken. So whether their help was born out of pity or solidarity, we'll never know.

Thalia immediately took the situation into her hands, organized hot baths and nutritious meals for all of us, and instructed every healer in the library to help save Nero. After his lungs had stopped, they had to use a complicated emergency procedure I had only read of in my parents' medical books to restore them. The healers spent hours stitching his every wound, casting spells to close his internal bleedings, and brewing tonics to replenish the blood in his veins. When my magic had finally started to return, I joined them in the infirmary to lend my powers, but once the body starts to heal on its terms, there is nothing for my magic left to do.

I dry my hands, take the white healer's apron off, and hang it at the end of Nero's bed. Aramis sits on the mattress next to him, his gaze lost in thought, brows furrowed, while the book sits next to him. Since getting to the library this morning, we have not let it out of our sight.

I walk up to him and rake a hand through his golden hair. It is soft and smells like lilacs after the bath. With my index finger, I lift his freshly shaven chin until his eyes meet mine.

"We have to go. It's time to see if all of this was worth it," I say as I nod to the Book of Light and let my hand fall.

Aramis wraps his arms around my middle and rests his head on my stomach. "It was already worth it because it brought me to you."

I caress his hair, reveling in this moment where the world seems to have stopped, and we can finally breathe. "And it brought me to you," I echo his words. After a moment, I pick up the Book of Light. Its now familiar buzz fills my ears, and despite its heaviness, it feels like an extension of myself.

After rendering ourselves presentable again, I caved to curiosity and opened the Book of Light. Trembling fingers gently moved the ancient and yellowed pages as my heart raced, awaiting to be blessed with secret knowledge. Only to be met with symbols I had never seen, a language to me unknown, for which I was going to need the brightest minds Craeweth had to offer. Lucky for us, we are already at the library of Harpalyke.

"But now we must bring this to the witches and the scholars. You'll get to meet Cassara and Thalia, too. They know about you," I continue with a smirk and drag him off the bed and out of the infirmary.

"This isn't a language I am familiar with," the elder scribe, Zanthos, says as he sits down, rubbing the creases out of his brow. "Nor could we find it in any text on ancient languages."

"How is it possible to have an ancient text in a language no one has seen or heard of before?" Aramis says, slamming his fist impatiently on the table after hours of research.

"Could it be a cipher, or code?" I inquire and I rest my hand on Aramis' forearm. He glances up andnods apologetically before turning to the head of the table.

"It is unlikely," he says, flipping the pages. "There is no indication that it is written in code. It is a forgotten language, lost to time."

"Someone has to have the knowledge to read it," Aramis says, his muscles tensing under my hand. "Tricella has the Book of Darkness and is actively using it to teach herself dark magic. Is there a spell for translation? Or some other magical library who may have the knowledge?"

"Ow!" Aramis says as a quill lifts from the table and pricks his finger. He looks up, confused as to who or what made that happen, and I bite my lip.

"Be nice," I whisper as I cut him a glance. I grab his hand, running my thumb over the droplet of blood that wells on the pad of his offended digit, and let my magic heal the small wound. "Aramis is right. If Tricella has found a way to decipher its twin, there has to be someone with the knowledge."

"We have the most extensive collection of books in all of Craeweth," Marcelene says, crossing her fingers under her chin. Dark circles linger under her eyes and Cassara told me she has refused to eat—the worry for Nero too great to even look after herself. I make a mental note to talk to her in private.

"If Axton's accounts of his retrieval of the books were true, it means that Tricella has had the book for nearly two hundred years." I frown, staring into my teacup, watching the dregs float in the bottom.

"It's possible she had it translated all those years ago, and that person is no longer on this earth. While unlikely, it is possible," Zanthos says, rapping his knuckles on the counter. "You would have to look at someone or something ancient, difficult when it comes to living beings, of course, although there are creatures–"

"Zanthos!" Thalia snaps her fingers. "We all love a good history lesson, but the fate of our home is at stake here and time is running out."

"Of course," he says, nodding profusely and caressing his long white beard. "If not a living being then maybe an ancient institution might have records about a language as such. If the legend is true and this is one of the two books penned by the Goddess herself, then you might be better off going to the temple to light a candle hoping she'll grant you the knowledge overnigh–"

"Nova Esther!" I say, pushing up from the table and knocking over my tea in my haste, everyone's eyes turning to me. The liquid instantly disappears, and in its place appears a fresh full teacup and saucer.

"Nova Esther?" Zanthos exclaims mid-stroke. "It's possible but a long shot. While not as ancient as the library of Harpalyke, the institution of Nova Esther does have some interesting tomes in their collection. After the war, however, we haven't had much communication. They too decided upon a more secure approach, and made venturing to their gates practically impossible for outsiders. They even disabled their portal that allowed us to directly travel to them," he scoffs. "But our portal is still able to take you to the last known entrance we have on record, on the edge of the Armaghdale forest. The rest of the way is up to you."

"But what would give them reason to help us?" I ask, remembering how much convincing Aramis had to do with the Council and I with the witches.

"The signs of looming war have grown exponentially since you left the library," Cassara interjects. "Thanks to your upheaval against the library's strict rules about neutrality, we've been sending scouts to different territories in Shadowvale." She points to six out of the twelve territories in the Kingdom."Unrest is spreading as more of the soil continues to rot. She is becoming reckless in her attempts to find you. Shadow beasts have been spotted all the way to the Kallistar border. Mentions of her soulless guards marching through villages and causing upheaval are spreading," she continues, and I rub my brow at the weight becoming heavier and heavier on my shoulders.

"War is coming. Tricella won't be satisfied with just Shadowvale. We can already see that. From the plans Phoebe was able to see, she won't rest until she takes over all of Craeweth and that includes Kallistar," Aramis adds, crossing his arms. "We have to try. "And even if we don't manage to use the Book of Light to our own advantage, we will still need all the help we can get to face her. We must alert the King and Queen of Kallistar of what's on the horizon." The urgency in Aramis' voice is palpable.

"That would mean breaking the treaty between Shadowvale and Kallistar," Thalia notes.

"Tricella doesn't care about the treaty. Kallistar needs to know she plans to take them by force. They won't stand a chance against her, just as we won't without them," I explain, my voice filled with concern.

"We have to try," Aramis repeats, and looks at me.

Our eyes meet and I know he too is asking the Goddess when it will end. The traveling, the danger, the short hours of sleep and the constant worry of what is next. But we both know that the answer is, when our people are free. So we keep trying.

"The only question now is when do we leave?"I say as I stand. I turn and look at Marcelene.

"I'm afraid I won't be accompanying you on this journey, Sybil. The scholar council has asked that I step up and begin my transition into a leadership role."

My heart drops at her words.

"I understand, and I am very happy for you, Marcelene," I say, but the sad smile she gives me makes me wonder if she made this decision with her head but not with her heart.

"It looks like it's just the two of us." I turn to Aramis and stretch out my hand. "Nero will have to indulge in your hospitality for a little while longer, if you'll allow it?" I ask the witches, but I don't even have to finish the words.

"I will take care of him," Marcelene vows and looks at Aramis.

"That settles it then, we leave tomorrow," Aramis exclaims and reaches for my hand, ready for what is going to be another of our many final evenings before having to say goodbye to people we care about and venture into the unknown.