The library had a section on demonology wedged between agricultural tax records and a surprisingly large collection of sheep poetry. I'd been at a back corner table for about six hours, with a stack of books as my small fortress. "Abyssal Hierarchies and Their Discontents," "A Comprehensive History of the Tower of Ruin, Volumes I through IX," "Guardians of the Abyss: An Incomplete Taxonomy," and a fragile, worn volume titled "On the Covenant and Its Bindings" that I had to persuade the archivist to let me touch.
The archivist was not a fan of mine. She had made her disapproval evident the moment I entered the building at dawn and asked where they kept the books on demons, and she'd made it clearer every hour since by appearing at the day with frequent visits to my table and audible sighs of exasperation at the state of my notes.
This is what I have discovered so far:
In the game version of Eternal Requiem, floor guardians were hardcoded to their floors. Players couldn't mod them out or glitch them free. They only spawned in their boss rooms and remained there until a player defeated them and the floor unlocked.
But the books told a different story. In this world, the lock had a name: the Covenant. A binding pact between each guardian and the tower itself, forged at the moment of their creation. The texts were ambiguous regarding the guardians' creators or motivations, but they were unequivocal on the stipulations. A guardian was prohibited from leaving the tower, yet granted unfettered access all of the floors.
I pulled "On the Covenant and Its Bindings" closer and flipped to the dog-eared section.
A final floor guardian may be released from the Covenant by one of two means. First: defeat at the hands of a Challenger, which dissolves the binding and opens the floor. The guardian perishes and their essence returns to the tower and the floor resets, awaiting the birth of a new guardian.
Second: the Final Transposition. A guardian who wills it may shed the Covenant and leave the tower, but in doing so they surrender to their abyssal nature. The guardian transforms into their true form: a creature of ruin, unbound and unconfined, but the transposition is irreversible. The monster devours the ego. Over time, the guardian's mind, memory, and will erode, replaced by hunger and violence, until nothing remains of who they once were. They become destruction without purpose.
So option one killed her. And option two let her walk out the front door, except she'd slowly stop being Lily and start being a mindless, bloodthirsty monster until there was nothing left of her. Free, but no person inside to care about the difference.
Great.
I closed the book and tried to pick up the next one, but my brain refused to cooperate. After six hours of reading, it had turned to mush. I leaned backward, rubbing my tired eyes. The library was quiet around me, with just the archivist and me here. The afternoon light came through the tall windows, making dust motes drift through the air.
My gaze wandered to the wanted poster that I had been jotting down notes on. Lily's face, drawn by someone who had clearly never seen her, stares up at me from under my handwriting. I'd been jotting research notes on the back of a poster calling for her execution, in a world that used to be a game on my TV. My pen cap had been gnawed to shreds, and my back was sore.
Part of me, felt extra strange these days. Sure, I was sitting in the library like a normal person, doing normal research, except that my research was about freeing my dead ex-girlfriend from an magical prison, and everything was actually super fucked.
Despite this entire situation, sometimes, in the morning, I would wake up and feel normal. The grief would go quiet and the panic would sink below the surface. Other mornings I'd lie in bed trying to remember my mother's voice and come up empty. I didn't know if that was because of the memory wipe or because she didn't spend enough time with me for it to leave a mark.
I kept coming back to the question of who I really was: a terrible person, or just an honest one? What had I left behind? A family that didn't deserve the name? A shitty apartment where the landlord couldn't even remember my name after three years? A group of casual acquaintances who would mourn my death for a week before moving on? My greatest loss was Lily, who was right here, being a pain in my ass.
I used to lie awake, begging the universe to take me into another world: one with magic, quests and a version of me that mattered. I had read every isekai novel I could find, watched every anime, and played every game. I wanted out, I wanted to be chosen, and now here I was.
Chosen, needed, living the literal fantasy. It was weirder than any story had prepared me for because none of them mentioned that you'd feel like two people stitched together at the seams. Ayla-from-before and Ayla-from-after. Both of them were me. Neither one felt complete on its own.
I shook my head and reached for the next book. Navel-gazing wasn't going to get Lily out of that tower.
That was the job right now. Whether Lily wanted it or not, we were all each other had. If I could find a loophole in the Covenant: a third option, something the game designers had buried in the lore, an exploit or exception, then she might not have to choose between dying or walking out the door and losing herself one piece at a time. If the loophole didn't exist, I'd figure something else out. Every wall had a crack if you looked long enough.
I closed "On the Covenant and Its Bindings" and put it on top of the others. I gathered my pile of notes, shoved them into my bag, and stood up. The archivist watched me leave, and I just knew she'd be counting the books as soon as I was out the door.
"Sorry — sorry, wasn't looking, my bad." I accidentally bumped into someone. I was already sidestepping them, carrying my bag over one shoulder, still mulling over the Covenant clauses in my head.
"Ayla?"
I paused and looked up.
Séimh stood in the library corridor. He looked me up and down with furrowed eyebrows.
"Hey!" I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Séimh! How are you? How's the group?"
"We're good. Missed you, though." He leaned his back against the wall. "Haven't seen you in a while. Few weeks now?"
"Yeah, I've been… busy." I moved my bag to the opposite shoulder. "Things came up. Life stuff. You know how it goes."
"Life stuff." He nodded slowly and his eyes fell on the book sticking out of my bag. I watched as he read the spine and then his gaze drifted to the stack of notes poking out of the side pocket. I wrote “FLOOR 100 GUARDIAN” in large letters across one of the napkins because I was apparently an idiot who couldn't be subtle to save her afterlife.
"Come on, kid." His expression hardened.
"It's not what you think."
"You've got demon lore, tower history, and what I'm pretty sure is a wanted poster that says 'Floor 100 Guardian' in your bag." He pushed off the wall and moved closer. "You told us you were putting distance between yourself and the tower."
"This is a different situation."
"Is it?" He folded his arms over his chest. "Because I've been doing this a long time, Ayla, and I've seen this pattern before. I know it’s easy to find a reason to go back."
"Séimh, I hear you, and I appreciate everything you and the group have done for me. You got me through some really dark days and I'm not going to pretend otherwise."
"But?"
"But this is a completely different situation that I can't explain right now." I looked into his eyes. “Trust me on this. If you knew what I knew, you'd understand. We are in very different boats here, pal."
He stared at me for a long moment. "Different boats," he repeated.
"Wildly different boats. Different oceans, even."
He let out a breath through his nose. "You know where to find us if the boat starts sinking."
"I do. And I mean that." I readjusted my bag and took a step backwards. "Tell the group I said hi."
He watched me disappear down the corridor. I didn't turn around, because I knew his eyes would be there, and I didn't want to see that look again.
"Lily, come on. One more try."
"No thank you."
"You almost had it last time."
"I didn't almost have it. I threw up!” She turned her head to one side, revealing one eye, while the other pressed flat against the stone. "My brain feels like someone put it in a blender. Can we do something fun instead?"
"This IS fun. You're learning to become the most fearsome demon queen in the realm! Isn’t that super cool?”
"It's not super cool if it makes me want to die. And I’ve already died, so that's saying a lot." She flipped onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “Can we play cards or something? Tell her about the game, Spite."
Spite, perked up next to her. "It's called Throat Rip and the rules are —"
"We're not playing Throat Rip," I said.
Lily groaned and draped an arm over her face. "You're the worst teacher I've ever had.”
I counted to five, then to ten because five wasn't enough. I was starting to wonder if Lily had any intention of leaving this tower at all. Maybe she'd decided that being a demon queen with a captive audience and a throne was, on balance, not that bad of a deal.
"Lily, you need to take this seriously."
"Why?" She sat up. "It's pointless, Ayla. Didn't your little book say there are only two ways out? Someone kills me, or I turn into an ugly beast. At least in here, I’m still hot! I have minions who bring me food, a throne that's honestly pretty comfortable, and other than the occasional murder attempt I'm basically royalty."
“Dude, you're the most powerful being in this entire world and you're wasting it and complaining."
"Being powerful hasn't exactly been working out for me." She pulled at a split end. "In case you haven't noticed."
"But you were so excited the other night! You were doing victory laps around me, Lily."
"Yeah, and then the next morning I woke up and my nose was bleeding and I couldn't see straight for three hours." She massaged her forehead. "It drains me. Every time I use one of those moves it feels like something is scooping out the inside of my skull. And you’re mean! You just keep attacking me and it’s honestly pretty freaking scary!”
"That's how you learn! Under pressure!"
"That's how YOU learn. I learn by not having spells thrown at my face while someone yells 'just dodge' at me." She folded her arms across her chest. "You've always been like this. You treat everything like a competition and then get annoyed when I don't want to play by your rules."
"Lily, you're the most powerful being in this world. You know that, right?"
"Yes, Ayla, you've said that about forty times now."
"And what have you done with it?"
She glared at me. "Survived. Which, given the circumstances, feels like a pretty solid accomplishment."
I didn't have a comeback for that one. For months, she had been alone in this tower, figuring everything out on her own and managing to stay alive with one ability, while an entire kingdom sent people to kill her.
"I appreciate the help," she said. “Even though you're really annoying about it. But can we just chill out? There's a new season of Lair or Liar and apparently it's incredible." She was already on her feet, swaying slightly with a shimmy of her shoulders.
I stared at her. "So that's it? You're just giving up?"
"I'm not giving up, I'm taking a break."
"You're giving up. You're deciding that the situation is hopeless and instead of fighting it you're going to sit on your ass and watch fantasy television until someone climbs up here and puts a sword through you."
"Okay, stop being a bitch. And don’t give me that look right there, the disappointed one. I hate that look." She let out a sigh and raked her hands through her hair. "You know this is a hopeless situation, right? Like, objectively? I'd at least like to enjoy my time before someone shows up and cashes in on the bounty. Is that a crime?"
Maybe she was right. There may not have been a loophole. Maybe I'll spend weeks sifting through library books and ancient texts, only to find that what I'm looking for doesn't exist, that I'm chasing a third option that some game designer never bothered to code in. But I wasn't prepared to accept that, and I wasn't going to let her either. I didn't know how to make her see it, so I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"Pussy."
Lily's eyes narrowed, and then a corner of her mouth slowly curved upward. "You are what you eat. Ayeeee.” She held her hand out to the side without looking. Spite struck his paw against her palm in a high-five.
"Ayyyy," Spite repeated, nodding, but looking slightly bewildered.
I stood up and slung my bag over my shoulder. "I'm going to go figure this out." I made my way toward the door. "Watch your show. Get over the pity party. I'll be back tomorrow and we're training whether you like it or not."
"Ugh, you're exhausting."
I had already opened the door when she spoke again, her voice quiet and almost childlike. "You're not staying tonight?"
I stopped walking. I turned around.
She sat on the steps, hugging her legs, with her chin resting on them. She appeared more youthful in that position, not the Demon Queen or Morrígan, but rather a lonely girl in a vast, empty room, making an effort to appear indifferent to my departure or stay.
"I can't tonight.”
"Whatever. Fine." She waved her hand and looked at the far wall. "I don't care. Go do your nerd stuff."
"I'll be back first thing tomorrow."
“Whatever.”
"Tomorrow," I repeated, this time softer.
She didn't respond; Spite hissed at me. Malice had fallen asleep and was snoring loudly.
I turned and left. As I descended the tower, it was quiet, a hundred floors of silence, my boots echoing off the stone walls. The lanterns on each landing flickered as I passed. By now, my legs had learned the rhythm of the stairs, and my mind no longer needed to guide me. Step, turn, step, turn. Going down, down, down.
I pushed through the front door, and the night air hit me like a splash of cold water. The forest was shrouded in darkness, with the path barely discernible beneath the dense canopy. The moon, a mere sliver, peeked through a curtain of clouds. I pulled my hood over my head and started walking.
I managed to get about 200 feet from the tower when a heavy object struck me from behind. My face was forced into the ground, and a massive hand clamped down on my mouth. Several pairs of hands grabbed my arms and pinned them behind my back. They yanked the staff out of my grip before I could even think about casting. I struggled, flailing my limbs and shifting my weight, but a force struck me in the back of the head, and my vision faded to white, then to dots, then to nothing.