The Silver Grove's halls stretched endlessly, a labyrinth of living wood and whispered secrets. Eryk's footsteps were soundless against the moss-carpeted floor, his body still aching from the relentless training Eldrin had forced upon them. Thirteen days. Thirteen days of agony, of Eldrin's cryptic lessons, of Sera's simmering fury, and of the gnawing, ever-present weight of the Null Grimoire coiled inside him like a sleeping beast.
And for that days, Yavanna had been absent.
Eryk flexed his fingers, the ghost of the void's whispers still clinging to his bones.
You are nothing.
The words slithered through his mind, unwelcome but persistent. He exhaled sharply, as if he could physically expel them.
Beside him, Sera walked with her usual scowl, arms crossed, her borrowed elven robes swishing with every irritated step. The dark blue fabric suited her, though she'd sooner die than admit it. Ares, perched on Eryk's shoulder, flicked his tail in lazy arcs, his golden eyes scanning the halls with detached curiosity.
"This place is too damn big!" Sera muttered, kicking a loose pebble. It skittered across the floor, earning a disapproving glance from a passing elf. "How are we supposed to find anyone in this overgrown treehouse?"
Eryk didn't answer. His gaze snagged on a familiar figure rounding the corner. Dame Liriel, her black hair tightly braided, her emerald clasp glinting at her throat. She moved with the effortless grace of all elves, her steps silent, her expression unreadable.
"Dame Liriel!" Eryk called, quickening his pace.
She paused, turning to face them with the barest tilt of her head. "Yes?"
"We—uh—" Eryk faltered, suddenly aware of how out of place they were. Two humans and a dragon, wandering the halls of an elven kingdom like lost children. "We were looking for Yavanna. We haven't seen her in days."
Dame Liriel's lips thinned.
"The princess is occupied with her studies."
Sera snorted. "Studying what? How to be even more insufferable?"
Ares chirped in agreement.
Dame Liriel's gaze sharpened, but her voice remained cool. "The library. If you wish to see her, you may go there. But do not disturb her."
Eryk nodded quickly before Sera could retort.
"Thank you."
Dame Liriel inclined her head and swept past them, her robes whispering against the floor like a sigh.
Sera waited until she was out of earshot before groaning.
"Great. More walking."
Eryk ignored her, already turning down the hall. "Come on! Yavanna said she'd take us to the library when we had time."
"Yeah, well, she also said before she'd be around but we you didn't see her," Sera grumbled, but she followed anyway.
~○~
The library was not what Eryk expected.
He wasn't sure what he had expected—rows of dusty tomes, perhaps, or silent scholars hunched over scrolls. Not this kind of library.
The moment they stepped through the arched doorway, the world shifted. The air hummed with magic, thick and sweet, carrying the scent of aged parchment and ozone, like the breath before a storm. The ceiling soared high above, lost in a canopy of glowing vines that pulsed faintly, casting shifting patterns of sapphire and gold across the floor.
And the books...
They were everywhere. Stacked in towering piles, floating midair, tucked into shelves carved into the very walls. Some glowed faintly, their spines shimmering with runes. Others twitched, as if alive, their pages fluttering like restless wings.
But the most astonishing thing wasn't the books.
It was the librarians.
Tiny elves and fairies, no taller than a bottle, darted through the air on translucent wings or scurried along the shelves with harried expressions. They wore miniature uniforms—vests embroidered with silver thread, tiny spectacles perched on their noses—and they wielded wind magic like scribes wielded pens, guiding wayward tomes back to their places with practiced flicks of their fingers.
One particularly frazzled fairy was wrestling with a book twice her size, her wings buzzing furiously as she tried to shove it onto a shelf. The book, however, had other ideas. It squirmed in her grip, its pages flapping like an indignant bird, before slipping free and soaring off into the rafters.
The fairy let out a sound like a teakettle and gave chase.
Sera stared.
"So," she said slowly, "this is weird."
Eryk couldn't argue.
Ares, however, was delighted. His wings flared, and he launched off Eryk's shoulder, darting after a floating tome like a cat after a bird.
"Ares!" Eryk hissed, but the dragon was already gone, weaving between shelves with gleeful abandon.
Sera rolled her eyes. "That overgrown lizard is going to get us kicked out!"
Eryk sighed. "We should find Yavanna before he sets something on fire."
They ventured deeper into the library, stepping around piles of books that seemed to breathe, their spines rising and falling as if in sleep. The air grew thicker with magic, the runes on the walls pulsing faintly in time with Eryk's heartbeat. It reminded him of the Null Grimoire's whispers, but where the Grimoire was a void, this magic was alive, thrumming with energy.
Sera nudged him.
"You're doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"That staring thing. Like you're about to pass out."
Eryk blinked, shaking himself. "I'm fine."
She didn't look convinced, but she didn't press. Instead, she jerked her chin toward the far end of the library. "There's the librarian! Maybe they know where Yavanna is."
Eryk followed her gaze.
At the heart of the chaos stood an ancient elf, his silver hair cascading down his back like a waterfall frozen in time. His robes were the color of twilight, embroidered with constellations that shifted when Eryk looked at them too long. He was bent over a massive tome, his fingers tracing the lines of text with reverence.
Sera didn't hesitate. She strode forward, her boots scuffing against the floor, and planted her hands on the desk.
"Hey. We're looking for Yavanna."
The librarian didn't look up. "The princess is occupied."
"Yeah, we got that," Sera snapped. "Where is she?"
The elf sighed, as if dealing with Sera was the greatest trial of his immortal life. Slowly, he lifted his head, revealing eyes like polished amber.
"The restricted section," he said flatly. "And you are NOT permitted there."
Sera's smile was all teeth. "Watch us."
She turned on her heel and marched off, leaving Eryk to scramble after her.
"Sera—wait—"
"What?" she shot back, not slowing. "You heard him. Restricted section. That's where she is."
"And we're Not allowed there."
Sera scoffed. "Since when do you care about rules?"
Eryk opened his mouth—then closed it. She had a point.
Ares chose that moment to reappear, fluttering down to land on Eryk's shoulder with a smug chirp.
"I stole a page."
Eryk groaned. "Why?"
The dragon shrugged. "It was shiny."
Sera snorted. "At least one of us is having fun!"
They wove through the labyrinth of shelves, following the pull of magic that grew stronger the deeper they went. The air here was heavier, the books older, their spines cracked and weathered. Some were bound in leather that moved, shifting under Eryk's gaze like living skin. Others whispered as they passed, their voices too soft to decipher but too loud to ignore.