Raum shut the door, closing off the view of the library. He then stepped back, and Ezra felt a weird trickle of something through the ambient magic fields, so slight he almost dismissed it as a natural shift in energies if not for the wary expression on Raum’s face.
“What’s going on?” Ezra asked, not worried or afraid, but something was definitely up.
“Before I show you,” Raum began. “Can you keep this secret for me? My ancestors were hunted to near extinction for this secret.”
“I promise,” Ezra swore, perhaps foolishly. He barely knew Raum, but what he did know about the man was that he was kind, honest, and generous with his time and knowledge. It felt like Ezra was on the precipice of something huge.
Raum took a deep breath. “Open the door.”
Ezra squinted at Raum but walked the few steps to the door and opened it. He stared at the white wall of a long hallway, and then slowly shut the door, before opening it once more to see the same hallway.
The Special Collections room of the Rutherford Library was gone. In its place was a long hallway with white walls, tiled floors, and he carefully stuck his head out to see other doors down either direction of the hall, some open, but most of them closed. At the far end of the hall was a sign hanging from the ceiling, and he made out the words ‘History Department’ before he leaned back into the office, thinking hard.
Portals were possible, but they were exceptionally difficult to make, expended a ton of energy, and were loud, bright, and impossible to anchor permanently to one place. Wormholes were theoretical, as far as he knew, and they would also be impossible to anchor to a physical location. They were theorized to be rips in reality, loud and chaotic, and dangerous to traverse.
Magical scientific theory postulated that teleportation was possible, and it was theorized to be an ability innate to various species of fae, but it wasn’t confirmed officially. The fae were notorious about keeping their abilities a secret from human populations. Ezra didn’t blame them for it, either.
Raum was descended from High Court Sidhe, was mostly fae, with some human mixed in. Raum just said that the secret he had was responsible for his ancestors being hunted near to extinction. Legends of the High Court Sidhe had them living in massive kingdoms underground at the height of their power and influence. Historians considered those kingdoms to be magical dimensions or perhaps alternate realities, under the control of the more powerful sidhe, like the legendary Oberon or even Celtic deities, like Arawn or the Morrigan.
Ezra carefully shut the door, locked it, and stepped away from the doorway. He spoke carefully, quietly, locking eyes with Raum. “Your office is an underhill.”
Raum’s eyebrows went to his hairline, as if surprised that Ezra knew the term. Ezra knew his history of magic, and the continuous wars between the humans and fae peoples of Europe since the inception of the High Council of Sorcery were part of that history.
“Yes,” Raum answered. He paused, shifting a bit, watching Ezra. “You’re taking this better than I expected.”
“I’m medicated and accustomed to rare magics,” Ezra said, some sass sneaking through in his tone. “Why the hell are youtelling me? We’ve slept together once and known each other for a week. I’m usually impulsive as hell, but you’ve won this time.”
Raum chuckled. He then tapped a single finger to his temple. “I can see you, Ezra Redmayne, down to the very core of what makes you, you. And you’re trustworthy. Remember, you told me to look. And what I saw told me I can trust you with this secret.”
“I—oh,” Ezra floundered, blinking rapidly. He fought back unexpected tears. “That’s the sweetest and craziest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
Raum went to his desk and grabbed a few tissues from the box sitting on the corner, and he handed them to Ezra, their fingers touching. Ezra smiled and took the tissues, wiping his eyes while Raum watched him patiently.
Ezra tossed the tissues in the trash. He then went back to the door, unlocked it, and opened it just enough for him to verify they were still in the history department. He softly shut the door, leaning on it, and asked, “How does no one notice that your office moves around campus?”
“Summer session,” Raum replied. “Fewer students and faculty, fewer staff. If I have office hours, I’m here in the history department building. If I’m doing research, I’m in the Special Collections room of the Rutherford, or I’m here, using the department’s research library. When I teach, I leave the office here, since my classroom is in the building. You’ve only seen me in the Rutherford the last week because I’ve been working on my bibliography and sources list for my book. During the regular year I don’t move the office unless I’m going home.”
“That’s convenient,” Ezra observed, and Raum shrugged one shoulder, not denying it. “Tell me about the underhill?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Is it just this room?”
Raum tipped his hand back and forth a bit. “It grows every year, and is actually a bit larger than the confines of the office. The borders aren’t strictly defined.”
“Who else knows?” That was a worry suddenly blooming in Ezra’s chest—who knew about this gigantic secret, and how he could keep Raum safe.
“My parents, Grandpa Saemund, and you.”
“Okay,” he breathed out, and went to the couch, sitting heavily on the center cushion. “Okay, that’s really good.” He bent at the waist and put his head between his knees. “Gimme a moment.”
“Ezra?”
He tried breathing slowly, but his heart was racing.
The High Court Sidhe were almost extinct because humans hunted them across the planet to gain access to the faerie mounds, the sidhe underhills—known by many names, but they all described a legendary type of magic, something humans never managed to learn—the harnessing of pocket dimensions and the altering of reality by sheer will and thought. True conversion of energy into matter and back again. The closest humanity ever got was the creation of reliquaries, which were considered miniature pocket dimensions, but they were restricted by how big they could get, they couldn’t alter reality, and anything bigger than a cat died the instant they were placed inside a reliquary. Humans died without fail.
Raum was in so much danger. And he told Ezra his most dangerous secret without skipping a beat.
