Hitting the Books

I was right where I had said I never wanted to be again, but I had done it to myself. It was because of needing to control how the triop passed their exams that I had made the three angry with me. 

Since the day of the academic betrayal, Rionriv had refused to acknowledge my existence. I had tried to approach her and apologize multiple times, but as soon as I came into view, she disappeared with a clap of thunder. The hate and anguish I saw still on her face days later broke my heart, as it slowly began to feel more and more like nothing I could do would ever make it up to her.

That was why I shifted, gunning instead for Aesandoral, who I knew would be sympathetic to my apology. And I could see it in her elven eyes, even at a distance, as she caught glimpses of me, she would flash a soft smile, relief washing over her face. From afar, I could tell that she wanted to talk with me. The sweet, loving Aesandoral, who was only caught up in this because her sister refused to budge.

This was where the problem occurred. Everywhere I knew I could find the elven archer, her sister was at her side. It was as though Rionriv could sense me coming, and as soon as I made a move for Aesandoral, she would step in, and both would fly off. They had often remained at each other's sides beforehand, but after the conflict, it seemed that they were inseparable. 

At one point, I had even gone so far as to bait Rionriv away, getting but a second with Aesandoral. Luring the sorceress away with a tantalizing prize, I stepped up to the archer.

"Hey," I spoke softly. "Aes."

"Iz." Her sweet voice replied in a hushed tone.

"I—"

"Aesandoral, ignore that scum!" Rionriv interrupted, reappearing and taking her sister's hand. Then, with a blast of thunder and wind, they were gone.

That was the extent of the conversation I was able to have with them in the two weeks since our blowout: three syllables and a breath. The smallest bit of something, but also nothing. Nothing I could use. Not even enough space to say how sorry I was.

I did attempt to talk with Sharzin as well, but it was more like I spoke to every shadow I had a chance encounter with. Hoping that at least once she would be inhabiting them. More than once, I spoke into the emptiness with no reply. And, with every quiet apology and failed attempt to make contact, my heart broke more.

Loneliness returned to me. A feeling I had forgotten in recent weeks. It ravaged my mind, ripping away at my body, bringing forth terrible thoughts, and the only thing that broke up these miserable waking moments was sleep. The depressive state consumed my mind as I lay in bed, moping the evenings away, dreading the following morning before the veil of night took me. No longer did the trauma dreams only come to me when I was in combat, but now with every sleep, something more slipped out. My fragile mental state, the feeling of remorse mixed with abandonment, triggered a flash flood of memories that consumed me with awkward preteen and teenage terror.

The memories had me reliving friends making fun of me for being too intense or clingy. They tore into young Tahvin, making me believe that no one wanted to be around me because of how I acted. Dreams showed me youthful love that I had forgotten—girlfriends who left me for other boys who were better suited to their needs. The mixture of 'it's not you' and 'you're just too much' filled my mind like concrete, doing nothing more than weighing me down, dragging me deeper into the sea of sorrow. And at the end of them all, the twisted and tormented dreams that I fought to deny, memories of my parents telling me that I didn't need anyone. Telling me that all I needed was myself and that one day I'd be successful without another soul holding me back. That I'd thank them for the strength they gave me. That I'd be rich and famous, and I'd understand why they were so harsh.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. I thought to myself, these memories flooding my mind as I awoke from a midafternoon nap.

With a shutter, I looked around the space I found myself. It was the Grand Central Library, tucked away in the legal section, where I had been studying ancient tomes dating back to the time of Al'Magi's founding. But it wasn't for an upcoming legal battle for the good of the world. It was less thrilling, though still as important to me, if not more so. I knew that somewhere in those dusty old tomes primarily used by history buffs and legal nerds, there had to be a loophole in the academy's founding documentation. A legislation, an amendment, or even a single line of text that would give me the ammunition I needed to help the triop pass the final examination in the coming week.

Help them pass, and bring them back to me. Bring us back together.

"God damn it!" I yelled out, throwing my arms out.

With a sweep of my hands, I threw the books to the ground and slammed my head into the table. I had fallen asleep once again, reading the same tome and even dozing off at the exact page. The stuffiness of the library didn't help, the warm atmosphere making it easy for me to fall asleep. And, even as I hated myself for it, I couldn't help finding myself beginning to drift away once more.

That was, until a voice spoke up from a nearby cubicle.

"Whoa, everything okay?" They asked, pushing themselves out of their chair and slowly approaching. "Ouf, Hotchski's Third-Millennia Arcano-Legislation? Transcribing Legal Codex and its Placement in New Moal'aw Documentation? Al'magi: From Thought to Practice, Designing Magic for Progression? These are pretty heavy tomes, my friend."

Lifting my head, I stared into the determined and caring eyes of a lanky young man with slicked-back black hair. Grey streaks had already begun to show themselves on his temples, adding to his regal appearance. I knew who this boy was at a glance. While he wasn't a member of the heroic triop, he did hover in their orbit.

Lich House legal savant Greye Wandermire, though his actual name is Greye VanHorne. His family had disgraced their Anak'hati lineage after his ancestor sided with Talir'sahn in the war. Tituba VanHorne, his sister, is a member of the rebel group known as Shatter. And, to top it all off, he's the future husband of Maren Highland.

"Greye?" I stammered. "Y-You're here?"

"I—how do you know who I am? Do we have class together?"

Shit.

"I-uhh, I work with Phyllis." I quickly corrected, deciding to draw on some story knowledge to help me. "You're the one who navigated the Phyllis contract on behalf of Gio, Maren, and Poppy, right? That was some slick work. Not many can navigate the lich's arcanolegalese."

"Oh, you—" He cleared his throat, looking down at the books he had picked up before placing them on my table. "You work with Phyllis? What's that like?"

"Shitty, mostly. But it has its perks."

"Is that why you're looking through this stuff on legal code? Are you trying to find a contractual loophole of some kind?"

Damn, this kid is good. I mean, I know I wrote him to be a legal whizz, but this is—wait!

"Greye! Actually, you're just who I needed to talk to." I stood from my chair.

Reaching over, I took hold of the boy's shoulders and gripped them firmly. With a gentle shake, I did my best to control the volume of my voice, but still barely managed not to yell.

"I'm looking for the Al'magi executive documentation from the Age of Foundation. The touchstone for all future Al'magi rules. The goddamn commandments of the school. Do-do you know where those are in here?"

"Whoa, so intense." He muttered, allowing himself to be shaken wildly. "Why do you need that stuff?"

"I, umm, reasons," I spoke quickly, pausing to think for a moment. "A project! Yeah, I'm researching the—umm—fundamentals of arcanodisciplinary extrapolation concerning Al'magi's legal codex for my winter project."

"Holy—that sounds really cool!"

Pshh, fuggin' nerd. I immediately thought. Gyah! No, bad. Don't judge someone for their likes. Bad me.

"Yeah, I know, right?" I spoke quickly, "So what do you say? Know where I can find those original documents?"

"Hmm, well, they're definitely not here if that's what you're asking." He informed me, rubbing at his hair as he thought. "The Al’magi Magnus Codex was locked away over a century ago to preserve it before the Two Generations War. And no copies were put on display—"

"Why wouldn't they make a copy?"

At this, Greye shrugged, his face contorting at a question that even his legally charged mind had no answer for. As he continued to think about the question, my attention became torn between him and approaching footsteps. Heavy, familiar footfalls came from behind.

"Hey, Greye," A sweet voice called out from my blind spot. "I thought I'd find you here."

"Oh, hey Maren!" Her replied, his gaze warming as he looked to the figure that neared us.

Shit! I thought, turning slightly and catching Maren Highland's gaze.

"Oh, hey, it's you!" She replied excitedly. "Tahishara, right?"

My heart began to race as anxiety filled me. I was interrupting a library meet-cute I was never supposed to be a part of. So, doing what I did best, I snatched the legal tomes from the table and sprinted away.

"Wait, no! Come back!" I could hear Maren yell out. "Why do you always run away?!"

"Yeah, wait!" Greye joined in. "I didn't get to tell you where to look!"

I skidded to a halt at the end of the legal stack and looked back at the two. They stood together, her tall, broad shoulders looming over his lanky form as they both stared at me.

"School of Procedural Disorder," Greye shouted to me. "Check the legal archive there. You'll need a professor to buzz you in, though."

"School of Procedural Disorder, got it." I nodded to him and smiled. "Thanks! Bye!"

Sprinting away, I was off to the next library in one of the adjoining campuses. Luckily, unknown to Greye, I wouldn't need a professor to give me access to the ancient archives. I still had max-level administration access on my student card, which at least had some perks aside from nearly getting me killed multiple times.