The Soulbook

When Diane wakes up, she finds the sun peeking through a gap in the heavy curtains and Aster still in the chair by the door. His boots are back on, and he’s reading, a dark frown on his face as he flips a page back and forth. Angrily. Or nervously?

“Good morning.” Diane sits up, and he turns to her, snapping the book shut. It glows faintly, then shrinks. Shrinks? Is she still sound asleep, dreaming? He places the book in the small bag at his belt and smiles at her.

“Good morning to you too. Ready to continue where we left off?”

“Absolutely.” After their discussion last night she’s eager to learn more. If only… “I don’t suppose you have coffee here? I could definitely use a cup. Or five.”

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s a hot beverage you usually drink in the morning. Or whenever you feel a little tired.”

“A stamina potion? We have a few of those, but they’re not exactly a morning drink. They’re very expensive and the taste is vile.”

“Oh no. Coffee is delicious.”

“Some people enjoy hot tea in the mornings though. I’m sure they have some here.”

“Sure, that sounds great too.” But not as great as real coffee.

With longing, she remembers her thermos and its precious content. Hopefully, the homeless man had not been injured and made good use of the supplies she’d left. Maybe he’d even called the police. Not that anyone would believe him if he told them what he’d seen. She hardly believed what she’d seen, and she was here. In this world. About to get another lesson in how to use magic. The logical voice in her mind, listing facts about coma and drug-induced hallucinations, is getting easier to ignore, so she straightens her back, looks at Aster, and asks:

“That book you were reading, the magic one… What is it, and why did you look so troubled reading it?”

“It’s nothing… just something that shouldn’t be possible.” He combs both hands through his hair, leaving it a mess, then laughs. “But it seems that with you around, impossible things are possible.”

Ah, more secrets. Back to his normal self. She decides not to push it. Not too much.

“But it is magic, right? Normal books don’t change size like that.”

“My Soulbook. Everyone has one.” He grins at her, raising an eyebrow. “Since I showed you mine, you must show me yours.”

Her stomach sinks.

“Er, a Soulbook? I don’t have one.”

“Sure you do. It’s not as if you can lose it.” He nods to her backpack. “If it’s not in one of your pockets, I bet it’s in there.”

Despite her doubts, she opens her bag to rummage through its contents, then gasps as she sees it. All the way at the bottom, tucked inside a pocket she’d never really used. A small, colorful, and childish diary.

“I don’t believe it. What is it doing here? I remember this. It was my favorite when I was a kid. I spent hours pouring my heart and soul into it, telling it all my little secrets.” She smiles wistfully, holding it in her palm. “I haven’t thought about it in years, but I remember it being, well, bigger.” In response, the little book glows and grows to twice its size.

“You just didn’t know how important it was. Come on. Open it.”

“Okay.” Heart pounding, she turns to the first page and reads aloud. “‘Name: Diane Hartwell. Class: Healer.’” She frowns and holds the book so Aster can see. “I’m not sure about the rest. What do these numbers mean? And why is some of it blurred?”

“I can’t see it. Only you can read your book. Since you’re a mage, it’ll keep track of your mana, your special techniques, your levels in various aspects, and so on. As well as some other things.”

“Okay… so it works a bit like game stats? That makes sense.” It really doesn’t, but it seems logical enough. She flips through the pages. Most of them are empty.

“Somewhere high up on the first page, it should state your overall level,” Aster informs her. “Considering everything, I’d guess you’re around level 50 in your main class, which should be healing.” He gives her a big smile. “Am I right?”

“Hold on… ‘Manapool: 134'. Is that good? Hang on, I think I found it. ‘Healing skill…’” Her face fell. “It says ‘one’. I’m guessing that’s not good.”

“No, that can’t be right…” The look on his face. The disappointment, disbelief. It hits her like a gut punch. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. Diane would be the first to admit that she’s not up to date with games and movies, but she’s played and watched enough to know that when someone is transported to a world in need, they always get some awesome power. Something that’s guaranteed to get the job done. Staring at the fateful number, she feels even more like a failure than she did yesterday morning.

“Are you sure you’re reading it right?” Aster leans over the book as if he hadn’t just told her he couldn’t read it. “Perhaps that’s some minor ability you haven’t tried yet?”

“I… I don’t think so. There’s something further down, in smaller text. ‘Warm Touch’. It's green and not blurred like the others.” She frowns. “That sounds like a healing technique, doesn’t it?”

He nods but doesn’t look overly optimistic, yet Diane feels a sliver of hope.

“Please let me try it. You have that scratch on your arm, and I still have so little, what did you call it…mana… left that it can’t get out of control. Right?” She fully expects him to say ‘no’, even laugh, but he doesn’t. He just watches her as the silence grows in the room, then nods and holds out his arm.

“Warm Touch,” Diane whispers. Is she even supposed to say it out loud? They often do in movies, so it can’t hurt. Right?

Nothing happens. Closing her eyes, she tries to remember the feeling of almost exploding that had led to her magic bursting out.

More nothing. Not even a tingle. Hearing a sigh, she opens her eyes only to see Aster resting his chin against his other hand, as if he’s expecting to sit like that for a long time.

Jerk. He could at least show some support. Well, she’s going to heal that cut if it’s the last thing she…

Her hand tingles and a blue light emerges from her palm. Soft, nothing like the wild flames from before. She places her hand on the cut, and the light pulses. Slow and steady. Her hand is feeling pleasantly warm and she lifts her head to find Aster staring at her. Eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

Their eyes meet, and it’s the most intimate thing she’s ever experienced. They remain locked like this until the tingling in her hand stops and the light fades. When she lifts her hand, there’s no trace of the cut. Not even a pale scar.

“I did it,” she whispers.

“Not a bad start,” Aster agrees, tilting his head as he studies his now healed arm. “Not bad at all.”

Her eyes widen and she jumps to her feet.

“Then I can help all the villagers now.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’? I must…”

“First of all, you’ll only be able to heal one more person or so. If even that. You have barely any mana left.”

“But…”

“Then there are the safety issues. So far, no one knows you’re a healer. That you’re the healer.” He gives her that little lopsided smile again. “And while I’m confident in my skills to keep you in one piece, I’d prefer if we keep this secret until we’re safely back home.”

She nods, reluctantly. What he says makes sense, she just wishes that…

“I’m sorry. I know you want to help everyone. And you did.” He stands up. “You were confident in your otherworldly healing yesterday, are you less so today?”

“No, but…”

“You can check in on them before we leave. Make fresh wrappings or whatever.” His stomach growls, and he winces. “But after breakfast.”

“Sounds good.” She smoothes down the front of her dress, wrinkled from having been slept in, ready to face today’s patients. Ready for whatever else awaits them. “Let’s do it.”