The library's antechamber was decently sized. Could probably fit multiple girl dormitories.

  Before getting inside the library I had to put a special padded covering over my new knee-high leathery boots. My guess is that that was Vice Keeper Sabina's invention. She is number two of the Great Library, set to become the next Master Keeper. Or would her future title be: Mistress Keeper? I don't know.

  The current Master Keeper is older than old. Him considered being half-deaf and half-mad, you can imagine who truly governs this wonderful pce. Vice Keeper Sabina is sorta like Rings in this regard.

  Anyway, the current Vice Keeper is a firm believer that noise gives birth to more noise. I wouldn't be surprised if she had better hearing than me. On several occasions, at least five girls from my css lost library privileges—some for a few days, others: a week—for supposedly ughing raucously. And one or two girls said their banishment was due to them breathing too loudly or coughing, I can't remember exactly. Such punishments, especially during times of exams, can be a schorly death sentence for some students.

  I approach the bck-brown desk. Bent at a right angle, the desk was thrown into the antechamber's corner, its both ends almost seamlessly fusing with the sandstone wall. A small door on the other side, only access point.

  Vice Keeper Sabina narrows her eyes upon seeing me. ''You again.'' She doesn't like working at night. Nor during the day, perhaps.

  Vice Keeper Sabina Sabinus is in charge of library access. She can be a tiny bit strict. Damage a book or make noise one too many times, and you lose access to the library perhaps indefinitely.

  I've heard some older students calling her, ''The Whip.'' She has a special thin stonewood stick. Basically, the offending student is given a choice: fingers or exile. Depending on your offense, she sms your fingers with that stick. Sometimes until they get swollen like sausages. You can always choose exile, of course. Hmmm...I guess naming her ''The Stick'' would be a bit silly-sounding.

  I scratch my cheek. ''Greetings. Yes, me...again,'' I say, softly.

  ''You know, it's interesting. You practically live there,'' she nods at the library's rge entrance, ''and yet I never seem to see shoddy red bristles anywhere.''

  ''I'm very quiet.'' I give her a tiny smile. If I gave her anything more, like: ''One end of the broom is on top of my head, but the other end is deep inside your back end,'' or anything of the sort, it would just give her an excuse to use her power on me. She would search and find a reason to get me barred from the Great Library.

  ''What do you want?'' Her pinkish gaze is slightly down. Even at fourteen, I'm only about half a head shorter than her.

  Unshockingly, she wears pink-tinted crystal lenses with a thin and elegant golden alloy frame. Mother had plenty of berating for my father about how he should be focusing his craft more on making these remarkable vision-improving wonders. There was simply more hex to be made that way.

  Grudgingly, I must admit she is not hideous; as is evident by the number of boys frequently asking her stupid questions or staring at her back as she slithers through the library, always ready to disperse punishment for any trifling misdemeanor.

  Vice Keeper Sabina is in her mid-twenties, ancient to my eyes but young considering her position. Her skin of polished marble and fwlessly banced features were harshly contrasted by a vicious nature, hiding beneath the pretty veneer. Although her eyes mirrored each other in immacute likeness, they seemed somehow empty to me—like a fetching but drained Amber.

  Hebe told me some older students start to whisper or cmp their mouths if Sabina's slender form suddenly passes next to them in the Great Chamber or courtyard. She must think of herself as a consul or some such.

  ''Just a ntern, thank you.'' I tap at my satchel. Shoulder strap diagonally cuts across my chest and coat, satchel resting at my right hip.

  Before entering the Great Library, we are allowed to ask for a shining crystal or two, attached to a stick or inside a ntern. The stick is easier to carry but ntern is more suitable for reading.

  ''Cobalt, I assume,'' Sabina says.

  I've always found the pleasant blue light of Cobalt to be the best for reading. Not that it matters that much to my eyes. ''Yes please.''

  She hands me a simple-looking bck-gray iron ntern with a shining Cobalt inside.

  I smile at her and leave for the library's entrance.

  As is so often the way throughout the Academy, the rge double doors have their own small portal embedded at the side.

  The swirling vortex forming in my midsection is far different from the one I had upon first entering the Academy with Aleera. No fear of the unknown this time. Just the thrill and the feeling of thousands of tiny spiders moving beneath the skin of my lower back.

  Even after so many times of coming here, the feeling of awe is undiminished.

  Resembling some forgotten strongroom bursting with lost treasures, the Great Library is located very deep within the cliff.

  The library's main aisle is simple in design, really. Basically, the Gutter is a very wide and long central corridor that stretches straight forward, disappearing into the Void's mouth. Its floor is a river made of perfectly ft stone, about half a mile long.

  I always feel as though I'm inside the rib cage of a mountain, walking its spine.

  Oh! I was repeatedly corrected and told that the Great Library is a chamber and not a hall. So...anyway, this gargantuan hall stretches the length of the Gutter—the library's main aisle reminds me a bit of that middle entrance corridor Aleera and I walked through, a lifetime ago. The same way a candle might remind one of Sol, I suppose.

  Giant upright sbs of stone are embedded with books, millions of books.

  On each side of the wide walkway, bookcases—if I can call them that—are carved from the very pale red stone of the cliff itself. Many stories high, the cases stretch at a right angle from the Gutter and seem to additionally serve as pilrs...hmmm...no, obviously they look nothing like pilrs, but, I'm fairly certain they function as a pilr does. They must support the ceilings.

  Stacked shelves are recessed into these wall-pilrs, taking the form of special indentations used for storing books.

  All this panthassa of knowledge is a gift by the Goddess to our holy ancestors. I've learned that word here. Can't really use it much, if at all. Although, Grandmaster Hadrianus would surely know its meaning.

  The Great Library boasts many illuminated manuscripts whose eborate illuminations typically include shiny metals such as gold or silver, sparkling on pages beyond count.

  Inside this giant vault of knowledge, the shelves abound with luxurious tomes that seem as though they might be works of art; too precious to be touched and read and instead needed to be admired from a distance with pure reverie.

  Astonishingly, endless thousands of books are bound in silk and velvet.

  Silk has an appearance simir to nanilu and is one of the hallowed vestiges passed down to us by our holy ancestors. Not even consuls wear silk. It might be rarer than nanilu itself but not nearly as strong.

  Yet here, here the silk is far from rare. I've read several books just to hold and feel the softness of their luxurious covers.

  Many of the most richly decorated works are often religious ones.

  Tonight, my sapphire satchel holds three books, and none interests me. A book needs to be requested in advance, a day or two earlier before you wish to get it. Usually, we can't have more than three taken outside the library, but this rule is flexible.

  Those that graduate get expanded access. And, you can take ten or more books with you to your own private chambers. Imagine that, your own quarters. No need to share anything, or listen to someone's noisy breathing and snoring; or having to pretend to be sleeping, or...ah. Despite Academy's spaciousness, privacy is rather cking.

  The books of medicine, science, history, philosophy, art, poetry—even a precious few about Genesis—and beyond. All is here. Knowledge of the world permeates the space. Neatly cut and stacked sheets of papyrus and parchment are braced with velum, leather, and such.

  Was there ever such a pce? Worldly understanding at your fingertips.

  On top of that, Academy's library is sealed to most of the public. The pce has its perks.

  Leathery, earthy, slightly sweet, and a faint scent of wood, all blended together to form a subtle aromatic mixture. There was even a whiff of an acrid smell, which strangely didn't disgust me, but complemented the rest of the smells quite nicely. Like adding garum to a cake batter: it shouldn't go well together but it does.

  An occasional faint aroma of hyacinth flows around me. That's probably just me, though.

  The majority of reading spaces are thrown at the far sides of the library.

  Within the distant walls of the Great Library, there are high, hollowed-out small rooms, with only a sb of protruding stone and no chairs inside. The sbs burst out of these rooms' walls, acting as legless tables, so you can read while standing. Why would anyone wanna do that? I don't know. Even sitting on the floor is preferable to standing all the time.

  The library's name, although well-earned, is...quite bnd. Why not name it: ''Parchment Imperium,'' or ''The Arcanium''? If everything is named ''Great'' then nothing truly is.

  In all four corners of the library, there are these fantastic double helix staircases—the only stairs I wish to tread—that can lead one to many levels of reading alcoves, honeycombing the tall walls. The alcoves are so numerous that even if all the guards, the students of each year, and all the caretakers suddenly felt that divine urge to read, all at this very moment, they...they would still be mere grains of sand thrown at a rge hill.

  Elbow space, indeed.

  It would be incredibly wasteful to try and bring crystal light everywhere. That's why there are plenty of areas where darkness rules, making haunting images of cave-like entrances swallowed by the bck.

  Pockets of trapped inky bckness had an edge of vivacity to them, pying tricks on the eyes. Shadows here can come to life, if you let them.

  During my first year, I did a little discreet exploring of the forgotten and rarely-used alcoves lining the highest reaches of the library's walls. So, I discreetly punched the walls inside some of these very high reading rooms, listening to the sound my punches made. Conclusion: huge sections of the library are hidden from the students—possibly even from fully-fledged Breakers. I was thinking of using my little ears to learn who else knows of these concealed areas.

  My hearing manipution has improved, but I'd rather not push my luck. One can be discreet only so many times, you see.

  Orbs of light throw radiant spears at the unkilble night.

  Scattered across most of this...hmmm, what is the best word...magnificent. Yes! Magnificent.

  Scattered across this magnificent expanse, thousands of crystals shine their red, blue, yellow, and green glow.

  During the day, a small army of caretakers is responsible for replenishing and charging the spent Cobalts. There are some Viridians and Ambers, pced willy-nilly, but I would wager they are used for variety's sake rather than any practical purpose.

  Edging the spots of brightness, twilit nooks and crannies spread like ghostly vines across the Great Library.

  Lantern is handy mostly while studying at one of the many carved reading alcoves dotting the walls, or those far-away tenebrious areas between the bookcases that have secluded, fine-textured stonewood desks and tables. Otherwise, the spaces near the main entrance have plenty of light.

  Every time I'm here, my mind struggles to expin how this Alldora of volumes can be possible. I feel as though it would take thousands of years and resources beyond imagining to make all the tomes around me. Creation...mark of the Goddess is evident everywhere I look.

  Not only that but there are books here—the biggest slice of the cake, really—that are filled with strange, punctiliously drawn letters on crystal-sleek papyrus.

  Most of the books have lettering so crisp and clear, they look as though made with a ruler. Since Allmother gifted them to our chosen ancestors, these books are considered holy. And I must admit, their papyrus is divinely smooth, so pleasing to the touch, and whiter than purest marble, often with barely any yellowish tint to it.

  Forever gazing sternly across the Gutter were the towering shapes of philosophers, poets, writers, semioticians, arithmeticians, and schors of all sorts. The narrower side of every bookcase is carved into a statue of their likeness. Sentinels of stone guarding parchment. Luminaries of the past, hidden but not forgotten.

  On closer inspection, roughly resembling wood grain, the statues are streaked with countless lines of varying thicknesses. Each line has its own unique shade of red, brown, or pale yellow.

  Surrounding me on both sides, the bookcases are so wide I'm having problems discerning their farthest shelves.

  Some shelves are stacked with books whose spines have no letters but strange, almost blossoming flowing gilt shapes that create floral-like lines, instead. The pretty patterns would often repeat more than two times across the spine, separated by raised bands, or fat golden lines. Must be a delight to catalog those.

  The Great Library has dozens of levels of shelves, soaring upward. Each level has its own balcony.

  Spiraling svelte staircases, often narrow and soaring, are everywhere; cutting through balconies, connecting them.

  Each balcony has a slender spiral staircase made of wrought iron connecting it to the one above.

  They remind me of the pendant, warmly resting on my chest.

  The triquetra pendant Mother gave me looks pin and cheap. As though made of iron. But, the pendant was made of rare Lic, ter coated deeply in bck-gray metallic paint. For the most part, we are not allowed to have jewelry. And not only that but a Lic would certainly get stolen.

  Ascending galleries kiss the distant ceiling.

  It would take me dozens of jumps to reach the top gallery. I never had the proper opportunity to test myself fully in that way but I could probably leap over the combined height of six or seven adults without much difficulty.

  Sometimes I'm tempted to do just that. To jump high and race the wind.

  The library has about twenty flying crystalborn for reaching the highest balconies faster. They are small, enough for just one rider, and have owl-like wings. Sometimes even I struggle to hear them. I think these Winged are specially trained to be quiet. Of course, there are more than twenty in total. Those inside would perish without the sunlight and need to be rotated from time to time.

  My favorite is a pink, winged horse. Her name is Bel. She is so pretty and sweet and nds gently like a feather. And to pour honey on seaweed jellies, she doesn't shit all over the pce.

  As I walk the Gutter, I notice what must be hundreds of dark greenish-brown dders pced on balconies. Stonewood dders, several times taller than a man, are everywhere, often several per balcony, and yet, they are twigs in a rge forest.

  All the balconies held ptform-like four-wheeled dders, for reaching the higher shelves.

  The dders often seem to be fairly new, and not that old.

  Straight, rolling, swooshing, swaying, twirling, curvy, winding, sinuous, coiling, wandering, flexuous, unduting, tortuous balustrades infuse the space around me. Their top rails are sometimes level and sometimes curvy like a snake.

  Rising around balconies, the often meandering balustrades had their handrails supported by thousands of newel posts, most of which had ft newel caps. Each of these caps had its own unique, fist-sized, intricately detailed figure on top. These finials portrayed familiars in all their splendorous variety of shapes; possessing manes, horns, scales, scutes, feathers, blunted cws, beaks.

  Just like the crystals, no two figures were the same.

  Crystalborn of every type and shape were here, forever standing guard over a myriad of books.

  When I was a little girl...well, a smaller girl; anyway, when I was smaller I would try to guess the number of pages in a manuscript simply by observing its thickness. I was terrible at it, but it did give me some sense of scale. If all the figures in the Great Library turned into a leaf of parchment, I imagine the stack would rise to burst through its ceiling.

  And the most astonishing part about the balustrades is that all of them are made of Valley-type of wood. Their oak has a warm dark brown tone with a tint of yellow.

  The lower levels of bookcases are well-lit while higher levels are often lost in darkness, shelves reaching into the distance everywhere I look.

  Vaulted ceilings are frequently eaten by the dark. Without a crystal ntern, one could easily get lost in the embrace of raven's wings.

  Candles, torches...thinking of embers, and such, were strictly forbidden in the Great Library.

  Obviously, we were told nicely that if even the smallest candle is found within the library, the student who brought the fme is barred from it forever. In addition, all the cssmates of the perpetrator are also forbidden to set foot in the library for a month. I believe, if you are lucky, the minimum punishment for bringing any fme to this pce is that you get banished for two years. Same dust, in my view.

  It is strange. I should be partly exhausted from all the running in the city but I do not feel achy. The opposite is true. A fiery vigor is coursing through my blood.

  I may or may not have slipped my tongue to a few girls in my css about how I overheard ''two guards'' talking about the voting test. I'm as innocent as a mb.

  At this time of night, the Academy's library is even more tranquil. I'm not sure if that's truly possible, my mind is probably pying tricks.

  A feather in my hand, the iron ntern serves its purpose, casting a small sphere of blue radiance about this much less lit region of the library, keeping the encroaching darkness at bay.

  At the distant end of the Gutter, rge double doors made entirely out of amarium dominate the view. They rise, embedded into the Great Library's end wall. The carved-out reading alcoves and nooks continue far above.

  The doors have hundreds of strange symbols etched all over their surface: circles, inverted triangles, flowing and straight lines growing out of squares, and triangles forming simple and eborate shapes alike.

  Crossed and symmetrical lines created intricate patterns and glyphs whose true meaning is only known to the best Genesis semioticians.

  During my first year, I was told that if caught simply touching those doors or sketching the symbols, I would get barred—for at least two months—from using the library. Or maybe even expelled from the Academy.

  I've memorized most of the symbols. Many nights I've imagined myself drawing them again and again.

  The double doors seem to have been made by giants for giants.

  The sealed entryway has eight child-sized hinges, four on each side. They could probably reach my shoulders, a bit hard to say, though. Even for me. From this distance...of about eighty paces—yes, the length of a decently-sized gymnasium—the hinges appear small when compared to the doors.

  They are arched, but unlike most of the Academy's rger doors, this arch is slightly more aggressive in appearance: slightly more pointy at the apex than just mildly curved.

  A few months ago, as I passed closer to those doors, at the corner of my eye I'd glimpse the metallic-gray shadowy stains and swirls of amarium seemingly dancing across its surface, locked inside the metal.

  Not once have I seen them opened. There were no marks of heavy usage on the hinges and I noticed a very thin yer of dust on the doors' cantilevering bottom rails, at my eye level. The light of the ntern was pale, the st time I went there, but my gaze was undeterred. Got a voidish headache that night, too.

  I turn left.

  The space between the bookcases is a gorge whose soaring cliffs are made of books.

  This region of the library has probably been quiescent for months.

  It is serenely quiet, so much so that at moments it seemed as though someone might hear your very thoughts. This is a pce where every whisper seems magnified and most of the time if there is a sound it only comes from the spider-quiet steps of library-keepers.

  At this time of night, The Breaker Academy's library is devoid of even such rare sounds.

  Every so often I hear the daintily tippy-tapping made by some dormouse's teeny steps. But that's about it. Dead silence.

  Now and then, I avoided going to this forlorn area of the library, the obscure section feels strangely colder, probably because of its remoteness.

  Sometimes when I read, my ears would pick up even the faintest of sounds. To escape people and the noise I prefer going to some of the Great Library's most remote regions, pces quieter than quiet. Reading alcoves during the day, cozy ground nooks at night.

  Usually, I like to begin my reading sessions with the book on the table, or, during the daytime, on one of those ft sbs of stone in the alcoves far above. This never sts, and I always end up sitting on the floor or on a chair with my legs up, a book perched over my thighs. Since I prefer my fingers the way they are, slender and smooth, and since I prefer not to be noticed, this forsaken spot is perfect. Add the sublime quiet into the mixture, and my reading haven is ''better than honeyed mustacei,'' as Father might say.

  A chair, table, and wide balcony above.

  Slender spiral staircase behind me.

  I leave the crystal ntern on the table, pull out my books, and adjust the reading reflector.

  Most reading spots on the ground and high up have a polished gold pte attached to small post; it serves as a reflective mirror that concentrates the crystal light on the parchment. The Great Library holds thousands of reading reflectors, a good chunk rarely used.

  I make myself snug and begin reading.

  ...In the long human history, it was often those cultures that have procimed themselves to be the most superior and pure that have committed the greatest sins against all mankind.

  Only true superior culture would be the one that acknowledges its own failings and openly admits the possibility of not being the best...

  ...Those that build roads and bridges that they themselves will rarely walk upon may end up with their progeny conquering the world.

  There is a pattern in history. The greatest civilizations were those in which their citizens were willing to work, live and die for the glory of the state. Cultures where loyalty, sense of duty, and valor were deeds, not words. Regrettably, such remarkable traits are...

  ...Long ago there were two renowned swordsmiths, fierce rivals. One day, in order to decide who makes superior bdes they each pnted their finest sword in a shallow stream.

  First sword would cut every leaf and twig the water brought at it. The second one would cut only some leaves and twigs, others moving delicately around the bde. Since his bde cut everything, the maker of the first sword, naturally, decred himself the victor. However, the sagacious justiciar decided that second sword is superior because its edge cut with purpose. Moreover, it was decided---...

  Plotinus -Date Unknown.

  Well, this is boring. I stretch my legs and lower the old book. Reading philosophical works is a good way to solve my sleeping problem. We are often given lists of tomes, which are obligatory to read. I have no idea what does all that have to do with Genesis. Some, no doubt, older than dirt grandmaster deemed it to be part of the studies, and now it's taken as holy curriculum.

  My short break over, I continue perusing the old text.

  ...Rules and ws work for those who create them. As individuals we are limited to the knowledge gathered by a narrow scope of one's own life, therefore, concentration of power into one individual is a folly of the greatest order.

  Ruling over everything requires a ruler who knows everything. Span of one life, with all its limitations, is simply not enough to produce such an individual. In an empire of millions, avoiding famine alone can be a major logistical challenge. If those around the ruler are valued for their loyalty far more than merit, well, worms and crows will hunger not. Of course, preventing the colpse of an empire is a far greater challenge than---...

  Author Unknown

  Again, that symbol. Papyrus of about one in ten books I've read here had a small symbol of a snake eating its own tail, hidden inside it. Only seen by shining a crystal through the papyrus. The impression is easy to miss. I first noticed it months ago by chance, when turning the pages while the Cobalt shone at my side.

  ...It is part of human nature to always want more, to be restless. This can be good for avoiding stagnation of mankind but it can also give birth to conflict and destruction...

  ...The most dangerous individuals are those that do not know they are...

  ...There are 2 types of anger: Fire and Bde. Fire seems more powerful but it dies quickly. It destroys a small area around itself and then gets extinguished. It is quick anger. Bde waits patiently, cutting flesh with purpose and calcution. It can cut many times before going dull. The Bde is cold anger.

  Fire is easier and more satisfying to many, however, in most cases, the Bde is more effective and devastating in the long run. It should be noted that in a primitive situation Fire---...

  Tiny tremors scatter across the back of my neck. Hours of pure silence are broken. A delicate sound reaches my ears: barely audible rustle of pages.

  Balcony above.

  I stop breathing and focus.

  Even during the day, this area of the library should be a desert.

  Using the nearby staircase, I dawdle to the first-level balcony and towards the sound.

  The st few treads creak a bit. I don't think I've ever---

  THEIA'S TITS!

  My stomach is a bubble of pain as spine after spine of books fills my vision, flying upwards.

  Moments after I reached the balcony, my body was catapulted over the handrail.

  I nd hard in a jumble of dark-green linen and red tresses.

  There is a rge tear on my coat's left shoulder.

  That was meant to kill. One of my cssmates could have died from that.

  The library, the Academy; the world is gone and my mind is full tilt focused on my ''killer.''

  Despite partially losing my breath and the fall; in mere moments I'm getting up. Dull pain radiates through multiple spots on my head and body. A feeling quickly muted, thrown into the background as my frenzied heart bursts out of its cage.

  No need for discretion anymore.

  I compose myself wind-fast, and jump all the way back up to the first-level balcony.

  As I gre at the young man that kicked me, his cloaked shape, now clearly shaken, takes a step back, quickly pulling his hood low.

  The Hood's reaction is that of palpable fear. There is something more, he seems confused about what to do.

  I bend my knees and hips a little. My toe, knee, and shoulder arrange to form a line. My feet are hip distance apart, right one in front; hands in front and bent at the elbows. Perhaps this pce is not teaching only useless dross.

  Minding my new stance, I move forward to repay the friendly tap in kind. My eyes are fervid, unmoving, unrelenting, unblinking; not leaving this man-shaped dustbag for even a swash of time.

  Horrendous images and thoughts of Hebe, Michael, or some other student lying broken on the floor, fsh through my mind.

  A dark fme burns inside my chest, and I realize: I am going to kill him.

  Judging by the hooded man's body nguage, he seems surprised. I expected him to try and hurt me, but instead: he begins to flee.

  I chase after.

  The cloaked man runs with an impressive speed of a Winged and then jumps impossibly high, grabbing the balustrade of a next-level balcony.

  He moves like I can!

  I follow the Hood whip-close, my own jump spearing me through the air until I grab and squeeze my fingers around one baluster's narrower part. I'm over the handrail in half a moment.

  Just as his form is about to reach a dimly lit area of the library, I notice a shape outlining the right side of his fpping cloak. The shape is that of an oversized wax tablet. Did he steal a book!?

  The Hood suddenly jumps, throwing himself from balcony's end.

  In a fsh of movement, his right hand flings a pouch in my direction.

  A pale blue mist hugs my eyes.

  Holding my breath, I continue to chase.

  In no time at all, whatever that smoke-mist was is already behind me.

  Where are you?Where are you?

  Fruitlessly and for some time, I try to hear, to hear anything, focusing my hearing everywhere around me.

  He is gone.

  He sent me flying across like a thrown toy. The bastard moved so fast, perhaps even faster than I can. And where did he disappear? All the exits are always guarded.

  The lion pin of the bronze fibu in my inner pocket stabbed at my heart as I fell. Hope I didn't break it.