I'm not one for transposing my thoughts in a retrospective fashion, yet, due to my [the word 'my' has a large ink splotch at the top right tip of the 'y'] lack of constraint, it seems that there is now a high demand for my blood, which I've assured the authorities, is quite limited. However, there are those that parade themselves as 'heroes' and I worry that I may have to abandon my [again the same ink splotch as if the writer had to take time to think] home... again. And, probably have a civilized discussion with said heroes, which may or may not end up with my head on a stick. my friend assures me isn't as bad as it se- [An ink stain runs through the words, and bleeds through the paper] my story may become twisted and reviled by the victors, actually, no, nevermind, I might as well make a nice stick for my head, like a carpenter making his own coffin, wonderful.

Life demanded that you worked for the moments of pleasure. Well, that's what the Elders said at the Edifice. I had done grueling work for the past week for what was wrapped up in parchment in the crook of my arm. The package was warm, and it took me all my willpower to not satisfy myself. I was terrible at creating things, but had I asked for help I would've been turned in the moment I turned my back.

I stopped in front of a door, hanging above it was a sun-bleached sign that swung from a singular chain that connected to the roof. I couldn't make much of the sign, but someone had conveniently written above the door, 'The Room.' Not the most creative name.

Pushing the door open I stepped in. It was aptly named, the room was chock-full of smoke. The unwashed paupers of the city gathered in small groups around tables sucking on pipes that were connected to tall devices in the center of tables. Smoke curled out of their mouths and noses, it dribbled downwards onto the floor which was virtually invisible.

Curious eyes turned and watched me, I walked with purpose to the corner of the room opposite of the dead fireplace. Two men sat there, talking quietly, they were gaunt figures, clothing hung off of them like scarecrows. They watched me as I neared them but continued talking.

I slid into the bench across from them.

"Well?" Said the one on the right, his chapped lips pulled into a smile.

Placing the package on the table I offered a smile of my own. I patted the package with my hand.

"Open it, c'mon show us." The other said excitedly. This one had half-moon glasses, and displayed a scruffy beard that contained what seemed like food particles.

I began unwrapping it, the warm parchment crinkled as I pulled the layers off. The smell was the first thing we noticed, the mens' eyes nearly rolled into the back of their skulls.

"Mhmm." Moaned the chapped-lipped fellow. "I see what you meant." He said to his friend.

I pulled it from its coffin of paper and placed it on top of the wrapping. Seeds lay around it, and white particles lightly covered everything.

"It's amazing!" The one wearing glasses intoned.

I nodded, getting the materials to make it had been hard. Though only one ingredient had been only obtainable through the black market. I was proud, and the smiles of the two men made me giddy.

Rade reached down into a bag that I hadn't seen which slouched against the wall. His fingers trembled as he struggled to pull out the heavy object. A book slowly peeked over the table where I could see it. It was macabre, life-like paintings of people being tortured in unfathomable ways. Snakes slithering into orifices, half-peeled women slowly walked across the cover, and then reappeared on the other side, never stopping, blood covering their trail like snails. Spiders and insects were shown ravaging what appeared to be royalty of some sort. It was blood-curdling. Nausea crept into my stomach, my excitement now quenched.

Chapped Lips smiled at me, "We found this," he tapped the book with his index finger several times, "Plain old book freshly delivered from the East. My instincts were just screaming at me to snatch it."

I nodded my head but my mind was winding like a crossbow bolt. Pushing the loaf of bread towards them I slipped the tome into my satchel. Rade, the one wearing the glasses gripped the mage bread and tore it in half.

Rade's friend called it plain, was he joking? The two didn't seem disgusted by the cover. Perhaps only sorcerers could see the cover, it made sense, sorcerers that wrote books would disguise their writings to prevent ordinary people from seeing them. Everybody had the capacity to use magic, but magic was like a muscle that had to be exercised, and being able to passively cut through weak illusions was done unconsciously.

Rade put his hand up, "Just don't tell my Master anything about it." He pointed his index finger upward. "Two, Make sure no one else sees it." The man rose his middle finger up next. "Lastly, when you're done memorizing everything, get rid of it." He finished by lifting his ring finger. "Also, the book was a new shipment from the Eastern Enclave, the old hag running the place wasn't keen on giving it up." He shrugged, "Saints use our place as if it's a warehouse." The young man pulled a bang of blond hair back, "I don't know why you asked for this particular book though."

"I didn't ask for it specifically, I asked you to get me something that can teach me some real magic. Fireballs and runes are monotonous trash." I realized that my voice had raised itself, but I meant what I said. Everything else he said made sense though. He didn't want to be kicked out of the Edifice Library for snatching up a random book with sickening magic art on it. Anyone seeing the book would probably kick a fuss and attract unwanted attention. And getting rid of it? I stroked my chin, the book was designated to be destroyed at the next book burning. So I could probably leave it somewhere on the street and hope someone would turn the book into the Saints. This was the best way with dealing with tomes, Rade and I had dealt in the past, he would pick out a random book that might have something for me learn and I got him something he didn't have access to. The books were going to be destroyed anyway by the Saints, they destroyed everything that they thought was too dangerous for 'the people' to handle.

The Saints though made me sick with hatred, it boiled in my stomach like a vat of bubbling oil. Their hypocrisy and pretentious attitude towards people. They took lore and hid it away in their archives, and burnt whatever they deemed dangerous. My face twisted into a sneer, and my hands clenched.

"Vasra?"

The sneer vanished, I smiled, "Oh, just thinking."

"Don't want to be on the end of those thoughts." Rade chuckled nervously. "You did ask us though to get you this book though."

I shook my head slowly and squinted my eyes. I never asked them for it. "When have I ever specifically asked for a book?"

"This time?" Chapped Lips offered.

I raked my brain for his name, but calling him Chapped Lips would make him self-conscious, but I had known the guy for a year and still didn't know his name, and I couldn't ask for his name now. It was far too late.

The two, not eager to start an argument wrapped their pieces of bread with the paper, "thanks, friend." Gesturing vaguely at the bread.

I shook my head, "It's all right, what you did was far more dangerous."

Rade and his friend swapped looks.

Rade's friend leaned over the table, "Feeding mage bread to anyone but, is forbidden by the Saints. It's punishable by death."

"Is it?"

"You didn't know!" He growled.

I shrugged. "For a book? Worth it."

The librarian rubbed his face, "You idiot."

"I'm a genius, just ask your local Saint."

The chapped lip fellow whispered into Rades' ear.

"It seems we have to go, see you soon, Vas." Said Rade.

"See ya." I waved with my hand.

The two slid out of the bench and cut their way through the smoke like a knife through bread.

I sat there thinking. The two couldn't betray me because they had given me the book, and they carried the bread. I shouldn't worry too much, Rade owed me several favors, and his friend too. He had assured me in the beginning that Chapped Lips helped him out in getting the books, a talented thief and so on. But the main issue bothering me was that I never asked for the book, and how they recognized it as a tome was beyond me, perhaps Chapped Lips' insticts were attuned to magic? Perhaps through a past trauma.

A sliver Smoke crawled across the table, snaking its way to my satchel. I watched it curiously. It slowly fed into the bag and stopped. The smoke around the bag swelled out and contacted.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. The hot air pushed the smoke— My eyes widened. Was the book breathing? Was it alive? What? What what what what what?!

I picked up my satchel and ran out the door.

I knew I was acting irrationally at the time, but my curiosity was eating me from the inside. A living book? It defied the fundamentals of magic; But defiance has a price, and apparently, the deal that I took left me bankrupt and screaming for the sweet release of death—Okay, I'm being melodramatic, it wasn't that bad in retrospect.

Home wasn't really home, it never felt that it was. I lived in a building next to the bona fide college. The building contained apartments for students, they were able to house seventy-two students each, and there were four of these, yet only one had inhabitants. Twenty-nine students shared the place with me, which meant that the college only had twenty-nine students, truly the end times have come.

If there is one thing I'm proud of, it's that after when everything was said and done, Colleges around the world were struggling to find space for student housing.

I made my way up the stairs slowly in a cold sweat. I had tired in minutes when I ran from The Room and walked the rest of the way anxiously peeking into my satchel the whole way.

After counting three floors I stepped out of the spiral staircase and into a hallway. I fumbled for my keys as I neared my door, the twenty-eight was carved onto my door. After several seconds of playing with the lock, it clicked.

I stepped into my room and shrugging off my tail coat I threw it onto the chair in front of my desk. I placed the bag containing the book on my bed. Slipping my shoes off and the rest of my clothing I went into the water room to shower. I toweled off and crawled into my sheets.

I reached and caught hold of the strap of my satchel. I opened it and withdrew the book. It felt lighter than it did at the meeting, though it must've been the smoke clouding my senses.

I bit my lip in anticipation, my chest tightened in excitement. I giggled girlishly, and the giggle turned into a chuckle, then the chuckle turned into a chortle, and soon I was convulsing with laughter. I hugged the book to my torso, finally, magic, real magic! None of that object etching shit, workshopping glorified sticks and swords with fancy patterns on them that did nothing more than roast a turkey, or ruin a suit of armor. Every book that those two had gotten me had been worthless, magic theory, it was stupid pretentious horseshit, using obscure vocabulary that required rotting dictionaries of ages gone.

It was curious through that those two thought I asked them for the book, perhaps since the book was alive it used magic to trick them into picking it up? The implications of that made me bit my lip in worry.

I held my breath and turned on the reading light above my bed. The book was propped on my legs that served as a sort of table.

The cover had changed, it was no longer gruesome and eye-watering. Now it simply displayed a title, Nyx. I exhaled and my breath came out foggy. I placed my thumb behind the cover and opened the book.

It was empty. Blank. Nill. I began flipping through the pages. There was nothing. No ancient rituals, no world-shattering sorceries, no power. I remembered a book very much like this one, though without the art, it too had been blank and on the last page the author had written, "Magic comes from the heart and soul." There was no such thing as a soul having been disproven in the last decade. The tension in my body dissolved away. At least I had learned how to make mage bread, which would be useful in getting arrested next time I was baking in a bakery I had broken into.

I let my legs go flat. I lifted the book up above my head and stared at the cover. Perhaps it was a test of some sort? The book had displayed magic at work. I didn't want to toss the book at wall like some angsty hero from one of those cliche stories and insult the book. There was evidence of this book being magical, unlike the other.

"Nyx," I whispered.

Nope.

"Xyn," I tried.

Na-uh.

Okay, let's casually talk to the book. It wasn't going to work, and if I told that to myself it was going to work, because when you thought something wasn't going to work it would end up working.

"Hello," I said. I waited for something to happen. I sighed, "Hello… Nyx?"

"Instead of trying to figure out if there was a secret phrase, you could've just started with hello." The book with a reprimanding attitude.

I blinked. My heart raced. My palms began to exude a sweat-

"Please don't sweat on me. It's nauseating."

I set the book beside me.

The voice was definitely female and sounded that of a mentor or tutor. Especially its attitude. It wasn't strict, but… playful, I suppose it also sounded rather amused. But a talking book? It was surreal, my head felt like it was the container for a pool of water that was softly lapping against my walls.

"It's rather inappropriate to take a lady to bed without buying them dinner first."

I did what was a mix between a choke and a laugh. I peered at my hand, it was shaking like a palsy's. Rubbing my face I pushed myself up against the headboard of my bed so that my back was against it.

"You're alive," I said, but it was phrased like a question.

"Alive is a strong word for my condition, I prefer, literaturely impaired."

"So you're a talking book? Or someone stuck in a book?"

"This is no mere book!" This is a tome of knowledge and the downfall of civilization!" The women's voice laughed diabolically. "Stop giving me that look, I'm joking."

"I felt a portion of truth in that."

I rubbed my hands on my sheets and picked up the tome. The cover was a made of a dark leather, and it was blank.

"So you want to learn magic?"

"Real magic?"

She chuckled, "Yes. Real magic."

"I—well… yes. I do."

"Of course, I want something in return." She purred, pages rustled.

"My soul isn't on sale."

"Hah! I want to be free." The dark tome replied with a determination oft not said by books.

She wanted to be free? That was a reasonable request, all I needed to know was how to do magic. Setting her free though… I was hesitant, that would require a lot of years to learn how to undo a curse like that, and even then, she might stop teaching me, or even try to kill me to stop the spread of her knowledge. I could simply agree with her deal and once I was satisfied with what I've learned I can tie the book to a stone and throw her overboard into the ocean, I doubted the book could be destroyed through conventional means. That was the safest option, trusting her completely was insanity, but pretending to befriend her would be the most beneficial.

"Okay," I nodded my head, "I'll free you."

"Great! Now, do as I show you." The book opened to a random page near the middle, a woman stood there, black hair draped down her chest all the way down to her waist. Her skin was as white as alabaster, and eyes a dark blue. The woman wore a black tailcoat but didn't have her arms through the sleeves, her shirt clung to her figure, a collared white shirt with several buttons undone revealing what I would call, an ample chest. Additionally, she wore black canvas trousers that disappeared into her boots.

My eyebrows rose a fraction, okay, maybe we can wait a while before drowning her in Yara's salty tub.

She smiled knowingly and then turned her head so that the back of it was showing. A circle appeared on the paper in front of her, she stood a step to the side onto the left page so that I could see the entirety of the circle. It was covered in a myriad of glyphs of runes of some sort, an eastern language with its strange squiggly alphabet wrapped around the edge of the circle, several shapes also took up space within. There were two circles in fact, the eastern language was set in between the two which there was just enough space for, several inches from what I had to guess if I were to make the circle on the floor, and a triangle which took the inner circle, and inside the triangle there was a hexagon. The runes or glyphs, whatever they were, filled the hexagon. The circle took up the entire page.

"I need you to recreate this perfectly in order to release me, and then we can get started learning real magic." She waved her arms dramatically.

"Teach me magic first, and then I'll release you, it's not guaranteed that you'd bother teaching me once you're free." I retorted.

"No, release me first, then I'll teach you."

We were at an impasse. Perhaps she could read my mind and figure out I was going to do the equivalent of killing her? Well, if that was true, then if I decided that I would give the book to someone else and hope that that person would release her, then would she teach me? No no no, that was stupid.

"It would be much harder to be your mentor if I'm not able to correct you in the world."

She made a fair point, but the spell could attract attention, a lot of attention. The Saints weren't just ignorant evil ironheads, they had methods of tracking big, flashy spells. I sighed, I had more leverage than her.

"No, teach me magic first, there's a very large chance I might make a mistake if I don't do the ritual correctly."

"That's just propaganda, nothing happens when you do rituals incorrectly. A Sorcerer several centuries back tricked his rival into performing a sacrificial spell, everyone that witnessed it said that he turned himself inside out, as well the ground that the circle encompassed."

I eyed her suspiciously. "I'm not letting you out, there's a reason you're stuck in a book. No one goes around sticking people into books, otherwise, there'd be laws regarding them."

"You won't do it will you, you really won't." She sighed.

I hardly comprehend what happened next before a hand tore through the page with a ripping noise and seized my wrist. I yelled out in surprise, the hand pinned my wrist to the book. I tried lifting the book but it was immovable.

The hand wore a long fingerless silken glove that went past the elbow, it had nails sharp as razors, the sheer strength threatened to shatter my bones.

"Free me," She said with an undertone of a threat, but the way it sounded was rather ambivalent.

"N-no!" I pulled back, trying to free myself but I felt something crack and a split second later I screamed, the cracking continued, I howled until my voice went hoarse. My hand and wrist were a pulped mess. I fell onto my face, trying to bury it at the foot of my bed, the book lay underneath my stomach, but I couldn't care, the pain ran through my arm and the world collapsed onto me.

"You are an idiot!" She shifted her hand up my arm to the middle, and she squeezed. Bones shattered into dozens of fragments and I found that my body found moving rather disagreeable at the moment.

"What do I have to do to be free!" She continued her way up my arm puncturing and tearing.

A startling peace settled over me. I was going to die. My story was going to end here, my body will rot on this bed, staining it with flesh and fluids, soaking it. I hoped that the janitors wouldn't have too much trouble with my body, I could already sympathize with them. I blinked, trying to regain lucidity. My thoughts returned back to reality, and a dull anger seeped into me, I was going to kill this bitch.

Another crack and my thoughts evaporated, it eerily sounded like somebody cracking open nuts. I felt dizzy, and blackness was creeping into my vision.

"Release me," She whispered.

Should I? Was it worth dying? I hadn't wanted to release her because I thought I had the leverage and that she might've killed me once she was free, but now the scale had shifted, no, it wasn't a scale, my ship had sunk, and water was barreling in through the cannon holes helping the ship down into its grave. All I am now is a pawn for her to use to set herself free.

I didn't want to die.

I mumbled something intelligible into the blanket. I tried again, "hmmph." My mind was swimming in a cloud of blood. "Yeah." I managed weakly before I slumped down, the darkness swept over me like a wave and then I felt nothing.