Quintin Hallenhall // Equinox Athenaeum
âCursed,â he reiterated, âIt uh, it has to be. Who else can naturally live out forâŚhundreds of years? We donât know of any magic capable otherwise, and these books show that Amaranthae has been around for quite some time. If you were stuck alone and immortal, I guess it would drive you to insanity as well.â Which was actually quite tragic considering the possibility they were on the right track. Trapped through time, maybe Westeria had some sort of old position for containing all the excess magic. Perhaps it was once a position of power, something revered and bestowed to great leaders. Whoever ended with that much an excess ability had to be using it for good. It didnât make sense that the land would create a unique role such as this one to tear civilizations apart. The war, even, that was only within the last decade. Amaranthae had been seen in images over a hundred years ago.
There wasnât nearly enough time to gather a full diagnosis, but the library made it quite clear that time was up. Barely enough information to string together a working theory before the ground started dangerously rumbling. Maybe two people were the golden number, but as soon as Peterâs friend appeared, something hit the turning point. Quintin made a break for the shelves even though the entire floorboards were splitting apart like a mouth. Books hovering across as the rows of teeth, while a darker, negative eleventh floor revealed itself below. Broken lights, a dim red glow, torn pages, certainly nothing he wanted to fall through.
Whoever Peterâs friend was, she was intuitive enough to float a few beanbags over, to which Quintin then grasped on for dear life. The sense of magic was stronger in the room, roaring out in protest to combat whatever energy the athenaeum held. A breeze picked up, more torn pages and paper scraps whipping by, sharp enough to cut, all while the beanbags dropped further. He was still situated in the centre of his, increasingly more paranoid when their direction didnât turn out to be upwards. The lights only dropped further as they floated past the gaping jaws split into the floor, toward the red glow below.
âE-e-exits,â he stuttered, âT-there are always ways out.â The report from the fragment retrieval quest mentioned incorrect doors that would expel the cadets back toward the lobby. Nothing mentioned being dragged deeper into the building. The beanbags were sufficient to slow their landing, but it didnât mean Quintin particularly wanted to step off his. Though their descent only took a few moments to crash through the floorboards, looking up at the âceilingâ revealed the gaping hole to be a mere spot in the distance. Kilometres of columns all around them, most of them falling apart. The darkness extended a few meters out before drenching the place in obscurity. The new floor could be as wide as it was tall, but the remaining light would never shine that far.
âYou,â he eventually blurted, pointing at the new girl, âHow did you get in here? Can you get out the same way?â Wait, evidence. They needed something to bring back. Quintin scrambled off the beanbag, lost in a new directive enough to forget his fear momentarily. This time, the fallen books slithered out of the way wherever he ran. A light followed from an unspecified location before he fell against a cracked bookshelf. One last parting gift from the athenaeum.
âPeter!â Quintin called, drawing a crimson cover. The book wouldnât pry open, a negative pressure pulling the pages tight. The mysterious negative eleventh floor was already filled to the brim with secrets; letting one more out would shatter the balance. A most peculiar thing inscribed on the front, not a name, but a carved rose.
Peter and the other girl were standing in the distance now, specks between the wide dusk between them. Quintin tried calling out for them again, then waving his free hand once the wind picked up. Lights, they needed lights. The choking darkness wasnât just the non-illuminated areas. There was literally nothing there, a void that extended beyond this world. It was the libraryâs way of saving space, only rendering what people needed to see. It just didnât seem all that keen on keeping the glow on.
@Edelgard - Peter
@Bexs - Odessa
