I shuffle from section to section, until I have a stack of books almost too heavy to carry. I’m about to haul them back to the tables near the statue when I stumble across another table, hidden away in a corner so shadowed and secluded, I almost miss it.
Someone has set up their own little research station in this corner, with a stack of books waiting on one of the round tables. Behind the table, the wall is marred by a crack that splinters outward from a fist-sized hole, the stone crumbling at its edges.
Whoever was researching here was both incredibly angry and incredibly strong.
A vampire.
I lean closer, peering at the open book, but the language is one I’ve never seen before. One that pokes sharply into my mind.
I scan the page, and my eyes water.
With a hiss, I press my fingers to suddenly aching eyes, wiping away moisture.
I reach out, flicking to the next page, and my hand trembles. Myfinger is damp with blood, and I’ve left a single, perfect fingerprint on the page.
Shit.
Flicking the pages back, I let out a relieved breath. Mine isn’t the only bloody fingerprint staining the parchment. Although it is the freshest.
I turn back to the first page. The words blur, and my mind rebels, pain stabbing into my head.
My eyes sting, and I attempt to blink away the pain. Shaking my head, I straighten, turning the page back to where I found it.
Wait.
The words have rearranged themselves into sentences I can read.
Noxdraught was created by Serehaina, the goddess of agriculture, grain crops, fertility, and dreams. Serehaina designed the poison as a mercy, during the Great Sigil Wars—a time shortly after Umbros created his vampires, when countless mortals and vampires perished in battle as the gods warred.
I wipe at the bloody tears that drip from my eyes, careful not to smear the blood on the pages once more. It still feels like a spike is being driven through my head. But some part of me—the part that still wishes I’d been tutored—is fascinated by this book.
Is it the language that requires blood, or the book itself? Is it protected by some kind of charm or ward?
No. I need to focus. Taking my pile of books, I head to a table near the statue, sitting and opening the first tome.
It’s a book about maginari.
The first few pages are dedicated to wyverns.
These creatures value honor, loyalty, and courage. They will only bond with those who display these traits.
I snort. Honor, loyalty, and courage? None of those sound like Rorrik. He must have trapped the wyvern into a bond somehow. I scan the page, looking for ways that it could be done.
Nothing. But that doesn’t mean someone like Rorrik hasn’t found a way.
Flicking to the page about griffons, I search for something to explain how Antigrus gave me his power.
As I’d expected, there’s no mention of such a thing being possible,but I find it difficult to believe maginari would share their secrets willingly with vampires and sigilmarked.
This book is useless.
Pushing it aside, I reach for the next book.
The Empire of Senthara: A History.
The author is long-winded and dry, and I scan page after page, searching for any mention of maginari giving their powers to sigilmarked.
Nothing.
