The butler knocked twice against the oak door.
A calm voice answered from within.
"Come in."
The doors opened.
Sunlight spilled through tall windows, painting long golden rectangles across the floor.
Books.
Everywhere.
Shelves climbed from floor to ceiling, connected by narrow iron walkways suspended several metres above the ground. Ladders rested against them at impossible angles.
Thousands of books.
"So you’ve finally brought me another pair of hands."
The voice was gentle, carrying the easy warmth of someone greeting an old friend rather than a servant.
An elderly man emerged from between two towering shelves.
His robes were plain brown, their sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. Silver hair fell to his shoulders, tied loosely behind his neck.
His eyes...
Were clouded.
Completely white.
No pupils.
No focus.
Blind.
Eldrin blinked.
The old man smiled toward the sound of their footsteps.
"You must be Caiden."
"Yes, sir."
The smile widened.
A soft chuckle escaped him.
"Rowan."
The butler cleared his throat.
"The boy understands Marian reasonably well."
"Good."
"His duties begin today."
Master Rowan nodded absentmindedly.
"They usually do."
The butler gave a faint, almost imperceptible sigh.
"I’ll leave him in your care."
"Try not to lose this one."
"I only misplaced the last assistant once."
The butler stared.
"...You misplaced him?"
The butler, apparently deciding further conversation was pointless, turned and left.
The heavy doors closed.
Silence settled over the library.
Master Rowan tilted his head slightly.
"You’re wondering how a blind man keeps a library."
"I can hear your thoughts."
Eldrin froze.
The old man laughed again.
"No, no."
"Not literally."
Without another word...
Master Rowan raised one hand.
Mana gathered quietly around his fingers.
The air trembled.
A book slid from the highest shelf.
Then another.
And another.
One after another, thick volumes drifted into the air as though carried by invisible hands. They floated gracefully between the shelves before arranging themselves into neat stacks upon a nearby table.
Each movement was effortless.
Controlled.
Master Rowan never once looked at them.
He couldn’t.
Yet every book found exactly where it belonged.
Eldrin watched in silence.
Magic
He remembered another of Professor Arlen’s lessons.
"Most people awaken their affinity between fifteen and seventeen."
"Some earlier."
"Many never do."
"If nothing manifests after seventeen..."
"It usually never will."
Eldrin was fourteen.
One more year.
Perhaps two.
If fate allowed...
The thought lingered only briefly before Rowan clapped his hands together.
"Now then."
Master Rowan lifted a hand.
Several books drifted from the shelves, gliding through the air before settling neatly onto a nearby desk.
"This one."
"A beginner’s Marian primer."
"You already understand a fair amount when spoken to."
"Reading will catch up quickly."
He pushed the book gently toward Eldrin.
"When you don’t understand something..."
"Look for another book."
"And if that fails..."
He shrugged lightly.
"Then you may ask me."
Eldrin nodded.
"I understand."
"I’m sure you don’t."
Master Rowan chuckled.
"But that’s how learning usually begins."
Within moments...
He had disappeared among the towering bookcases.
Only the occasional floating book drifting across the library hinted at where he was.
Eldrin looked down at the primer resting before him.
The first page contained nothing but the Marian alphabet.
Simple characters.
Some familiar.
Others entirely foreign.
He drew a slow breath and opened to the next page.
The library seemed to exist apart from the rest of the estate.
Hours passed unnoticed.
Eldrin copied unfamiliar letters onto a scrap sheet beside him, comparing each word with its Aldian equivalent. Every few pages he paused, sounding out a sentence beneath his breath before continuing.
Occasionally, a book floated overhead on its own before disappearing deeper into the shelves.
Nearly three hours had passed.
He flexed his cramped fingers and closed the primer for a moment.
Learning Marian wasn’t difficult.
Aldian and Marian shared the same roots, but the meanings drifted apart in strange ways. A word that sounded respectful in one language could become an insult in the other.
No wonder servants feared speaking in front of nobles.
A misplaced word could cost more than embarrassment.
Master Rowan emerged briefly between two shelves carrying a stack of books suspended in the air beside him.
He stood, stretching his aching shoulders.
His eyes wandered across the endless shelves.
History.
Natural Philosophy.
Military Records.
Botany.
Languages.
Law.
He paused.
Military Records.
Almost instinctively, he took a step toward the section.
Then another.
He stopped himself.
He turned away.
Instead, he wandered slowly through the nearest aisle, pretending to familiarize himself with the layout.
Every shelf carried a small brass plaque.
Every row followed an exact system.
For a blind man...
Master Rowan maintained an impossibly orderly library.
Eldrin glanced around.
"How..."
Then....
From somewhere on the upper floor...
A single book slid from a shelf.
It wasn’t thrown.
It wasn’t blown by the wind.
It simply...
...slipped free.
The book drifted through the empty air for a heartbeat before landing neatly on a table below.
Eldrin frowned.
He looked toward the aisle where Rowan had disappeared.
The old librarian wasn’t there.
No footsteps.
No voice.
Nothing.
Yet...
The book had moved.
On its own.
Or so it seemed.
Eldrin stared at it for another moment.
Then quietly walked over.
It wasn’t a strange book.
Just an old leather-bound volume covered in dust.
But one thing caught his attention.
It hadn’t fallen near him.
It had landed...
Open.
As though someone had been reading it.
The book had already fallen open.
Closing it and pretending he hadn’t noticed would have been the sensible thing to do.
Instead...
Curiosity won.
He stepped closer.
The leather cover had long since faded, its corners softened by decades of use.
He brushed a thin layer of dust from the page.
The handwriting wasn’t printed.
It had been written by hand.
Like a journal rather than a published work.
Eldrin lowered his eyes.
Field Journal — Expedition Seven
...crossed the northern pass on the twelfth day.
Supplies remain stable.
House Korrandis has agreed to provide additional escorts before we proceed farther east...
East?
He frowned.
His eyes continued down the page.
Most of it described supply wagons, weather, and routes through unfamiliar mountains.
Nothing unusual.
Then...
A single line caught his attention.
"Passed through Eldia without incident."
His fingers stopped.
Eldia.
He hadn’t expected to see the name here.
He read the next few lines.
There was no mention of war.
No mention of politics.
Just roads.
Trade.
Weather.
People.
It described Eldia as though it had simply been another stop along a long journey.
His gaze lingered on the words.
He turned the page.
The next entry had been written several months later.
The handwriting was shakier.
Messier.
News reached us today.
House Novaryn...found us
Eldrin’s breath caught in his throat. His thumb pressed so hard against the parchment that the old leather creaked.
"Who are you?"
The voice was soft, carrying a crisp, melodic Marian accent.
Eldrin snapped his gaze upward.
A girl stood at the end of the aisle, a heavy stack of books resting against one hip. She looked about his age. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, catching the vivid, striking shade of her red hair.
Clear green eyes regarded him with open curiosity.
She looked from Eldrin...
...to the journal lying open in his hands.
Then back again.
"...I’ve never seen you before."
Her gaze shifted back to the journal in his hands.
"I’m reading that one."
"Master Rowan must’ve put it back on the wrong table."
She took a few steps closer and held out her hand.
"May I?"