“Would you think I’m crazy if I told you I believe magic still exists?” Pricilla lowered her voice, as if the books had ears and were likely to mock her.
“Maybe.”
“Many find the idea repulsive, but you seemed intrigued to learn more when I first met you.” Pricilla jumped from the desk chair and ran her hand over the tomes filling her space with mystery and wonder. “The myths speak of a time before the Necrotic Ages blessed with magic.”
Necrotic Ages?Amaris pondered this, then said, “But they’re just myths, right? Not real history?”
“Myths are history,” she snorted. “The stories might be different, but they all speak of the same thing…magic. One depicts ancient beings with everlasting life, another people with the ability to take on another form.”
Amaris pictured Pricilla’s bedroom with a hidden corkboard and red strings running from each title and the exact line adding to her suspicions. “What makes you think magic still exists?”
“You know when you just have this feeling that something’s there?”
“I think I know what you mean,” Amaris said.
Pricilla picked up the rolled scroll, looking defeated, with her shoulders hunched forward.
“What kind of magic was there?”
Pricilla gazed at the rolled piece of parchment in her hand. “I assume people had magic that allowed them to do things to make mundane tasks easier.”
“It doesn’t say?”
“Not exactly. It speaks of magic running through the veins of Magoria and people accomplishing the extraordinary, but there aren’t specific details. A few stories tell of people with gifts, like wielding fire or water, but that must be taken with a grain of salt, like this.” Pricilla skipped over to her loose plank, retrieving a brown leather journal and tossing it to Amaris. For being a librarian, she seemed to let books fall wherever she pleased. “I found that a few years ago but don’t know what to make of it.”
Amaris’s palms grew sweaty as she anticipated what she was about to unleash. She hoped she wasn’t about to read about blood magic or voodoo. At the top of the first journal entry was scribbled1994.
“What do you think?”
Amaris barely had the ability to form a single line of thought, let alone speak. According to Alan, Magoria was well off into the six thousand years already. Her mouth dried as she read the first entry.
I’ve found myself in the most precarious of circumstances. I tried to hide who I was to protect myself, but there wasn’t anything I could do when the anger ripped through me. I couldn’t stop the transformation, so I fled. It’d been years since I slipped up, and I’d prayed to Izmir that I could once again build a new life.
I ran to the edge of Charibert, hoping I’d fall into the Black Sea andfinally be swept up into the rocks to meet my final demise. Alas, the realm had other plans for me. I scaled the nearest tree, narrowly avoiding the man with his sword drawn and a piercing gleam in his eyes.
I thought it would finally be the end to my life. I felt as though I’d lived a hundred lifetimes and was prepared to give it all away. I neither felt the pain nor remembered anything beyond that. I fell from the tree, but instead of meeting the blade of the man, I was sprawled on a rough terrain so unlike the cobblestone streets.
The realm around me buzzed with activity. Loud wails and triumphant calls pounded against my ears. People were everywhere. I was hardly able to stand without being trampled in the process. The structures around me towered far into the clouds. They were taller than any building I’d ever seen in Godwin.
Amaris’s reread the entry to be sure she hadn’t imagined it.
“I presume you’re as baffled as I was when I read it.”
“Yeah,” Amaris whispered. She went to flip to the next entry, when a shadow caught her eye. Amaris stretched her neck to gaze down the aisle and spotted Theodoric passing by.Crap.
Pricilla loomed over her shoulder. “What are we looking at?”
“Theodoric.” Amaris found herself grumbling his name.
“What about him?”
Amaris rolled her eyes.
“I’m all ears if you need to talk,” Pricilla offered. “If you’re worried I might tell anyone, I promise you, most of my friends are leather-bound and crinkly.”
It’s not like she hated the man anymore. He’d quit treating her like she was the last kid picked for dodgeball, but before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “He’s so closed off.”
“I picked up there aren’t entirely positive feelings.”
