56. Library of handwritten histories

It was achingly cold in the burrowing passageways beneath Wysthaven, and Ada was alone once again. Wrapped in her grandmother's cloak, with its hood drawn up and draping, she walked through an endless underground.

Ada had left the bandits and Min back in Hester's infirmary. She had been shaking when she had slipped through the doorway, unnoticed with all eyes on Min. The girl had spoken Ada's name with such a strength, such a power, that it had made Ada believe that nothing in the worlds mattered more than Min's will. Ada had seen magic, had participated in it, but had never had it used upon her. It hadn't felt mystical and wonderous, not like in fairy tales and bedtime stories; it had felt wrong, revolting.

She shivered and sucked in a breath of frigid air. Her chest was still sore.

It couldn't have been long past nightfall, though Ada wasn't certain as the sky was lost above layers of dirt, brick, and pavement. She could see though, as with each turn she took, new trails of sage-light sparked to life. Their low fires guided her down underground passageways, and Ada didn't care where they were taking her. She only wanted to be alone.

Shards of marble marked an arch into a particularly wide passage, and when Ada ducked through, she saw circular doors carved into the walls all the way down. Some of the entrances had been veiled with thin linen drapes, though others simply opened up into low, hollow rooms. Each had a small fire pit in their centre, which was circled around with pillows and stools. Many of the fires were lit, and the seats were occupied by fae of varying age and appearance. A few were eating by themselves, writing in journals, or sewing up smocks, but others were cooking meals with their families, the scent of sweet herbs and rich meat spiralling into the air.

Children laughed and dared each other near the fires, and Ada thought of Min's silence, then of games with her siblings. Heat prickled the corners of her eyes and she hurried on, careful not to peer into any more of the rooms. More sage-lights drew Ada up a short stack of stone steps, and she entered into the largest space she had so far seen in the underground city. Tables ran down the length of the room, and the ceiling was hung with bundles of vegetables and the occasional plucked chicken. Dried meats, hard loaves, and baskets of nuts covered the tables, and a number of fae walked between them with baskets.

Ada's stomach twisted and she edged towards the closest table. It was obvious that the best foods had been picked over already, but that hardly mattered as she grabbed a hunk of bread and a fat-lined slice of beef. She left before anyone could approach her, following the sage again and devouring her makeshift meal. She was retracing her steps, but before reaching the passage of fae families, the lights took an abrupt left, through a crack in a tall rock wall that stood hidden in the shadows.

Not wanting to return to the giggling fae children, Ada slipped through the crack without a moment's hesitation. Amongst the shadows, she saw lines of Old Fae written down the stone, but then she was blinded by a sudden burst of light. Ada had to blink up at the ceiling, where a mass of sage-lights had flared into fires simultaneously. They smouldered high above, bright as sunshine but drifting like stars set aflame. Beneath them rose shelf after shelf, stacked further than Ada could see and crammed with more books than she could have ever dreamed of.

Ada had never been to a library before, but she had heard of the ones in the great cities built far from the countryside. Her father had told her they were heaped with every study known to mankind, and if you went searching between the shelves you could discover anything, from myths to medicine. To think that she should find herself in a fae library, where notions beyond the loftiest of human imaginations could be printed within these thousands of pages.

Ada traced a finger along a nearby line of books, which were clear of dust but also of titles. No words, in either English or Old Fae, were written down their spines. She leaned closer when, from behind her, she heard the rustling of pages. Ada turned with a gasp. But there was nobody there, and the books lay still and silent. She inched over to the opposite shelf and peered around, but when no sound came again, she pulled out a book at random. It was plain and held shut with a knot of purple twine, which Ada unravelled easily and then flipped to the first page. The book was laid out like the academic journals Ada had studied at school, but the entire page was untidily written in ink and seemed to start immediately on the first chapter, without a title page or contents.

1. The Elementary Principles of Agrestal Casting, was written at the top of the page. Ada read on, The basic methods of magic must be learnt and followed by any Caster wishing to become proficient in the art. While any natural resource may be Casted on, it is known that only the four main elements may be used in order to create true magic. The pairing of these resources and elements must be understood and practised to develop a potent resulting magic.

The first pairing is the easiest and most accessible to new students in the arts, and that is the combining of flora with water. Casters should be aware of the potential property of the plant they intend to cast upon, as well as the strength of their water sources. Note that the use of rainwater, river water, and seawater will all produce slight differences in their magics.

Practices in wood-casting will tire the Caster more quickly than Casting upon flora, and the necessity of fire in this method makes it more difficult to conduct and control. Casters should here be aware of the heat of the fire they are using, and more so, the quality of wood that they burn. Wystwood remains the most potent of resources, and should be used with caution if ever possessed.

While the elemental pairing of stone and earth makes stone-casting a relatively simple form of magic, the long Casting period, as well as its low-magic return makes it a seldom practiced art for new students. However, a stone's enduring magic should not be dismissed. Likewise, the pairing of metal and the air elemental is rarely practised by students, though this is due to its level of Casting difficulty and its exhausting nature.

The book went on, but with words and diagrams that Ada was unable to decipher. Eventually, she returned the book to its shelf and went back to her wandering. Stealing deeper into the library, she passed row after row of books, some old and dogeared, others pristine and wrapped around with ribbon.  But none bore a name.

Ada wasn't certain what she wanted to discover, and tried to think of all the curiosities she had seen so far in Wysthaven. From amongst the shelves came a rustle of paper, and Ada turned with a glare, this time determined to find whoever was hiding with her in the library. But again, the shelves stood untouched and alone, with only the sage-lights moving above.

Pale light flicked upon a ruby-red book stacked right in front of Ada, its spine looking as though it had been crafted from a gemstone. Ada was sure she would have noticed it while passing moments before, yet there it lay, bright and immaculate, as if conjured by the library itself.

Ada picked up the book and opened it to the place where a plait of silk had been laid as a marker. Again the words were all hand-inked, though this time they were small and closely scrawled. The writing stopped midway down the second page, and the rest of the book held only blank pages. Ada read the final few sentences, And so the sap has driven my sisters to madness. The power it brings is like no other, and yet it makes you crave more each moment it does not touch your lips. I fear I have already drunk too deeply, though my sisters continue on, their magic, in turn, growing greater and more terrible than we have ever known it to be. They speak of hearing lies, of seeing fates and touching shadows.

The Wind is all I know now, though it comes with riddles and phantoms. I, too, fear the sap has led me to insanity. My sisters have mutilated themselves, they live alone by the forest and no longer roam the valley. When I sleep I can only see the trees. Perhaps my sisters were not wrong to disfigure themselves, for the senses are a curse as this life is a torment. My fingers itch to scratch and pluck and tear. I wish to see no more of this world.

Ada's hands were trembling when she closed the book. It no longer looked like a ruby between her fingers. It looked like it had been soaked in blood. Ada could almost smell the snake-seer's sour breath from the cave upon the hillside, could almost hear her final words. We're already inside the walls.

A step echoed through the library, and when Ada turned for the third time, a figure stood silhouetted between the shelves. The sage-lights drifted above, their fires flaring the scars where Hester's eyes should have been as red as the book clutched in Ada's hands.