Indira screamed, staggering away as it struck her. Her arms shook.
Rickard grabbed hold of her shoulders, one hand out before him. The air around it shimmered, glowing red-hot. Owl gaped, momentarily dumbstruck. He’s collecting the heat. The energy. He’s diverting it.
Owl leapt back just in time, shielding his face. Rickard hurled the ball of condensed heat to the ground at Owl’s feet with a snarl. A burst of light filled the study, the air crackling with heat and the uncanny tang of ozone.
And there, spreading from the point of impact, the stones glowed cherry-red. It advanced on him, smoking and burning with little pops of soot.
“No,” Owl gasped, grabbing for the heat with one hand. The stone beneath him cooled, settling into tiny swirls and ridges. He sent the contained energy deeper into the ground, coiling back toward the pair.
Up. He coaxed it on, intensifying the heat. Rickard had an arm around Indira, then, dragging the hapless woman on. Owl clenched his jaw, swaying himself. He was...so tired. More tired than he’d been since Olivia, since the dreamers erupted in protest. Tired of pain, and fighting, and hiding amid the books, wondering where the next enemy was going to come from.
Now, with the enemy leaders right in his sights, no way in hell was he going to let them run away so easily.
The heat rose, shooting skyward—and the stones behind Rickard and Indira heaved, bulging outward. Superheated stone sprayed out, spreading into a wall of lava behind them. The air in the study thickened by the second, filling with smoke and steam.
Rickard spun back around, fury in his eyes. “Enough,” he hissed. “If you will not submit, then-”
His words vanished into a muted grunt as he clenched a fist. Chunks of the lava ripped free, hurtling back at Owl.
Behind his mask, he smiled, the weariness sinking deeper. Back and forth they went. They could trade blows all night. All week. They’d just spray magic at each other, reshaping each other’s attacks into something new, and it’d never end.
I’m sorry, he whispered. He didn’t shy away from the lava, didn’t flee. It struck his form, each ball hitting like a hammer, and cooled instantly. The red-hot slop turned to angry black obsidian, layering over his chest, his arms, his legs. Rickard’s eyes widened again, shock spreading across his face like wildfire.
Coated in his new, stony ‘armor’, Owl lurched forward, not bothering to craft a new attack. I know you don’t want to hurt anyone. I know that this place is supposed to be safe for everyone. But...they’ll kill me. They’ll use you.
Rickard’s arms were back around Indira, and he dragged her on with new urgency. Owl stumbled after him, not exactly ‘fast’ but picking up speed.
This won’t stop. None of this will stop until they’re gone—and I can’t stop them without killing them. He raised a blackened, stone-covered fist, closing the gap between the two and him. I don’t want to. But I don’t know another way.
Forgive me.
Alexandria seemed to shudder, the lights dimming—but she didn’t stop him, either. Owl gritted his teeth, breaking into an awkward, pained run. Each step sent shudders through the Library. His footsteps resounded through the wing like thunderclaps.
For the first time, fear appeared in Rickard’s eyes.
And then it vanished, replaced by surprise. He sagged, carrying Indira to the ground along with him.
“W-What?” Owl spluttered. The heaviness hit him a heartbeat after. It was completely different from his own exhaustion, his world-weariness. There was no fighting it. All he could do was pitch forward, eyelids drooping, and let gravity take over.
He never felt the ground.
- Chapter Thirty-Six -
Daniel’s eyes snapped open.
He was back in that office chair, his hands pinned back, his head hanging forward until his chin rested against his chest. All around him were crumpled, twitching figures just starting to rise—Indira and Rickard at their center, but surrounded by figures he vaguely remembered from inside the Library.
A hand was clenched around the back of his head, but as he twitched, starting to come awake, it loosened. “Oh,” he heard someone say. The sound was still foggy, buried beneath layers of haze and disorientation. “Sir. I, uh-”
“No, no,” someone else said. A man, his voice weathered and stern. “Don’t trouble yourself. Rest.”
“Y-Yes, sir,” the first man said. Footsteps. He was moving away.
Daniel raised his head, blinking at the sudden return of light. It was dark inside Alexandria—not that it wasn’t dark in the makeshift office, but even still, it left him reeling. The front door was open, with someone standing silhouetted against the light. They strode in, with other figures filtering through in their wake.
Rickard swayed, stumbling to his feet. “M-Madis. I didn’t- I wasn’t informed you were coming. I would’ve-”
“Yes, I know,” the first man said. Madis, if Rickard was to be believed. His face was weathered and rough, sunk through with lines, but he had a full head of silvered blond hair slicked back. He looked down the length of his nose at Rickard, his lips curling unhappily. “I had to make the trip after I heard about your troubles, did I not?”
Rickard shrank back, licking his lips. “W-Well. I-”
“I’m disappointed.” Madis didn’t yell, but Rickard’s eyes went wide all the same. Madis shifted, lifting his chin. “This is quite the mess you’ve made. When I assigned you a crew-”
“It’s not a mess,” Rickard mumbled.
Madis’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Truly, now? That is your argument? How many of our demis are now dust, because of your foolish onslaught?”
“Yes,” Rickard said. As Daniel watched, he collected himself, setting his shoulders against the verbal attack. “There have been losses, Madis. And I regret that.”
Madis arched an eyebrow. “But.”
Rickard smiled tightly. “But, it has not been for nothing. I will not pretend to have led a perfect raid. I have made mistakes. But in the end, you will find that it has been worth it, Madis.”
“Yes,” Madis said,
