It was his fifth, sixth, and seventh time at the New Crest Public Library, and he was in love—twice and thrice over. Frank Shaul, an earthen astra-solicitor from the first century, once said that reading would open the box your mind has been kept in. Jenne felt that. He really did.
Books at Se Fina often marked every event as ‘Before the Great Oppression’ or ‘After the Great Oppression’. Here, he had read pages and pages without coming across the phrase ‘Great Henrikia’ or a passage about how the motherland crushed its enemies.
On one of his visits, he found a lectern standing between two tall shelves. He’d seen people standing behind it and glaring for a while, but never understood what they were doing.
“Give it a try,” said a stout man in a buttoned suit, a friendly, moustached helper. “It will help you find what you’re looking for better.”
There was no ledger to read from on the lectern. There was no screen to interact with. Yet the man encouraged Jenne with an even bigger smile. Sceptical, Jenne came closer and did what he’d seen people do. He squinted and jerked away as lights spread from the lectern. It was a hologram, expanding and spiralling out of control.
“That’s… that’s… um.” What the hell was this? “That’s not magic.”
“Of course not,” said the man. “That’s a computer.”
“No, it is not.”
“Argue with the men who invented it.” The man placed a firm hand on the lectern. “You’re interacting with a relic, boy. Try to show some reverence.”
“Sorry,” said Jenne, finding his bearings. Was he the only one seeing the moving images? He focused on the lectern and…
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Query,” said the man. “Search for a book, and it will help you find it.”
“Okay, but there are so many books that come to mind.” Don’t overthink this. Pick any book you want. Remember that professor? Yes, he’s the reason you’re here in the first place.
“Books about the Sorels.”
The man raised an eyebrow, but Jenne had no time to explain. The hologram spun a trail through the shelves, and Jenne followed. He slid around the back and nearly fell over the books a librarian carried. Turn after turn, he reached a dark shelf where the trail ceased. The hologram—or what he thought was a hologram—tapped on an invisible barrier surrounding the shelf. Marker triangles were scattered on the floor where the shelf stood.
Slowly, step by step, Jenne walked around the shelf, eyeing the books. Most were soggy and old-looking. At the top of the tower was an array of books bound in yellow jackets. Leaning as close as he could to the barrier, he read the titles on the spines. They were the same throughout: El Aven Avoc Alesio; A Thousand Ascenders.
“You ran off before I could tell you,” the librarian said from behind. “Be careful not to touch the barrier. We don’t know what might happen if you force your way through.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Good for us.”
“Why are they banned, though? That goes against everything New Crest stands for. Open-mindedness and free-thinking mean everything should be on the table.”
“Sharing these books with the public would endanger us all. And that would render your freedom useless, wouldn’t it?”
“So, you’re protecting our freedom by taking away some liberties.”
“Only as little as possible.”
“I guess,” said Jenne. “Are there any exceptions?”
“Unless you’re a Sorel, no.”
Ashey stood at the librarian’s desk the next day with Jenne beside her. It was Saturday, so she had no classes.
“Ashamel,” the lady behind the desk said. “I haven’t seen you here since Kalin left for abroad.”
“Hi,” Ashey groaned.
“What can I do for you?”
Three yellow books slammed onto the desk in front of Jenne. At Ashey’s request, the librarians had accompanied her and Jenne down to a secret chamber. There was a cage there, and inside the cage was a single table and chairs for readers. After locking them in, the librarians stood guard at the entrance, giving them an hour to finish. One of them prepared a draft of a contract that Jenne and Ashey would sign later.
“Jenne, you don’t have to try this much to get me alone with you.”
“We’re not alone.”
“Yes, I know, but you haven’t seen me for a while and missed me, right? That’s why you made up this dumb excuse for us to be here. Together. In a cage.” She looked at the ceiling. “I’m a bit scared.”
“Do you know what any of these mean?” Jenne showed her the illustrations from the first book. Something strange happened. The more he read, the less sense it made. Symbols jumped at him and bent and twisted. What language was this? Frustrated, he asked Ashey for help, but she shrugged and mumbled something about not understanding why she was down here in the first place. Jenne’s time was up. He felt cheated in a way. The librarian smiled at him, smug and satisfied, a look Jenne did not appreciate.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be much help,” said Ashey once they were back outside.
“You did your part,” he said. “Thank you for making time for me.”
“No, I don’t like that look, Jenne. I don’t like it when you’re sad. Come on, I know the perfect place to go.”
“Where?”
After a trip through a portal, they arrived at an abandoned recreational centre. Shrubs cracked through the stone ground. The merry-go-round was rusted and slanted, as were the carousel, the seesaw, and the mini-train. Metallic scarecrows dotted the park, all in old Black Army uniforms from the Great Oppression. Each had gleaming orange stones in their eye holes, and bullet holes scattered across them.
“Do you want to try?” said Ashey, behind a mounted rifle, aiming at one of the earthen scarecrows. “Master Kalin would bring me here whenever I got bored.” She pulled a cork, leaned over, closed one eye, and let the bullets rattle the dummies. How long would it take Ashey to realise he was earthen himself, and that this would be the last place he’d ever come to have fun? She never did, only asking whether he was ill from how pale he’d become.
After the afternoon, Jenne returned to Se Fina with renewed resolve to study exclusively at New Crest. He put in the work, balancing training with Ren Gallant, participating in classes, and spending time with Ashey. He and Hamis would speak to Renna Sorel, who was still overseas, though Jenne appreciated the calls less each time. Schemel reminded him that Genevie still held Blackwood captive. Everyone involved was tight-lipped about the whole ordeal. Henrikians had a ‘secret’ problem; no one spoke about anything to anyone. It made him remember a few instances when Schemel had passed an out-of-place statement about a ‘foreigner like him’ visiting the Home of Heroes.
Ashey stood at the librarian’s desk the next day with Jenne beside her. It was Saturday, so she had no classes.
“Ashamel,” the lady behind the desk said. “I haven’t seen you here since Kalin left for abroad.”
“Hi,” Ashey groaned.
“What can I do for you?”
Three yellow books slammed onto the desk in front of Jenne. At Ashey’s request, the librarians had accompanied them down to the secret chamber. There was a cage inside, with a single table and chairs for readers. After locking them in, the librarians stood guard at the entrance, giving them an hour to finish. One of them prepared a draft of a contract that Jenne and Ashey would sign later.
“Jenne, you don’t have to try this hard just to get me alone with you.”
“We’re not alone.”
“Yes, I know, but you haven’t seen me for a while and missed me, right? That’s why you made up this dumb excuse for us to be here. Together. In a cage.” She looked at the ceiling. “I’m a bit scared.”
“Do you know what any of these mean?” Jenne showed her the illustrations from the first book. Something strange happened. The more he read, the less sense it made. Symbols jumped at him, bent, and twisted. What language was this? Frustrated, he asked Ashey for help, but she shrugged and mumbled something about not understanding why she was down there in the first place. Jenne’s time ran out. He felt cheated. The librarian smiled at him, smug and satisfied—a look Jenne did not appreciate.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be much help,” said Ashey once they were back outside.
“You did your part,” he said. “Thank you for making time for me.”
“No, I don’t like that look, Jenne. I don’t like it when you’re sad. Come on, I know the perfect place to go.”
“Where?”
After a trip through a portal, they arrived at the abandoned recreational centre. Shrubs cracked through the stone ground. The merry-go-round was rusted and slanted, as were the carousel, the seesaw, and the mini-train. Metallic scarecrows dotted the park, all in old Black Army uniforms from the Great Oppression. Each had gleaming orange stones in their eye holes, and bullet holes scarred their bodies.
“Do you want to try?” said Ashey, behind a mounted rifle, aiming at one of the earthen scarecrows. “Master Kalin would bring me here whenever I got bored.” She pulled a cork, leaned over, closed one eye, and let the bullets rattle the dummies. How long would it take Ashey to realise he was earthen himself, and that this would be the last place he’d ever come to have fun? She never did. She only asked whether he was ill from how pale he’d become.
After the afternoon, Jenne returned to Se Fina with renewed resolve to study exclusively at New Crest. He put in the work—balancing training with Ren Gallant, participating in classes, and spending time with Ashey. He and Hamis would speak to Renna Sorel, who was still overseas, though Jenne appreciated the calls less each time. Schemel reminded him that Genevie still held Blackwood captive. Everyone involved remained tight-lipped about the whole ordeal. Henrikians had a ‘secret’ problem; no one spoke about anything to anyone. He recalled a few instances when Schemel had passed an out-of-place remark about a ‘foreigner like him’ visiting the Home of Heroes.
While there were no records of distinguishable foreigners residing in the country, there was a lot about protecting faeries from Saint Huvris of Solvaria. With rumours about Genevie’s whereabouts strengthening, the public discussed what the sorceress’ motives were. One popular rumour was that she was working for Saint Huvris and had come to find faeries seeking refuge in Henrikia.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
The more Jenne discovered the more alive he felt. There were pieces scattered throughout the wonderful library. He knew any magical creature, ascender or otherwise, would reside at the Home of Heroes. And he would start his search at the place he lived. Se Fina.
Skimming a book about the history of Se Fina, he raised his eyebrows upon several significant details. Swayers used to visit Se Fina a lot. They had grounds within the school kept hidden by illusions. "What can break a swayer spell?" he pondered. If marker-ascension was disrupted by heat, swayer-ascension should be broken by…” He didn’t know, but that wouldn't stop him.
So there he was, standing at the precipice of what might be the biggest discovery since Captain Jamerson’s voyage across the Ossen Sea. Jenne crafted a dagger as he neared the forest edge. He’d not been here many times before, but he could smell what he’d been missing for so long. The sweet whiff of swaying magic. Flowers bloomed within these trees, trying to convince him that the smell belonged to them.
Standing behind the border, he looked through the trees for anything. Gripping the hilt of his dagger, ascension flowed through his palm and lined itself against the blade’s edge, hot and sizzling. He struck three diagonal strikes against the trunk and pressed his empty palm against it. Closing his eyes, he sniffed the air. Nothing. He wasn’t giving up so easily. Jenne walked into the woods, cutting three straight marks across a few trees and praying to Samos, the god of monsters, to answer him. He slashed and slashed again, dashing forward, spinning and slicing stems. His blade landed on one trunk and pink gas exploded through the trees. He tumbled across the forest floor, coughing out the bitter substance, and there before his very eyes, the forest changed.
A clearing among the trees. The tuft was green marshmallows under his feet. Here was a garden with a glass building standing in the middle. It was a prismatic container. With caution as a priority, he numbered his steps and delayed his breathing, stepping closer to the building. To say he was afraid would be misleading. Jenne wanted nothing more than to be where he was. The glass structure had compartments, partitioned by long grey curtains. Within was a carpet and some bean bags. Some books lay around and yarns and fabric pieces. A garden grew at the front of the house, and a short block of stone stairs led up to the glass door.
No sign addressed the building. A smell captured his heart, lifting him off the ground for a brief moment. Jenne sat on the grass, level with the colourful flowers in the garden in front of him. Some had the smell of candy and some, wax. He caressed one, placing his nose against the soft petals. Why did this feel like a daydream within a daydream, on a boat, at midday, on the still Ossen Sea?
And then he stopped, almost at once, knowing someone was watching him. He turned his eyes from the flowers to the glass pane. Through it, he saw bare feet adorned with an ankle bracelet. A skirt covered in flowery patterns. A huge bundle of hair draped over a shoulder, wrapped in multicoloured strips of cloth. It was a girl in a cropped dress made of flowers. Her belly was exposed, revealing bracelets around her waist. He should be looking at her face—but only once he remembered where he was.
Jenne did look up. Grey eyes met his, set on the most symmetrical face he’d ever seen. Her complexion was darker than the average Henrikian—a foreigner’s shade of brown. Whether fae or human, she was beautiful, and she watched him with playful curiosity rather than awe. She smiled, her hands behind her back, head tilted to the side.
“Ezrael,” she said, and Jenne’s heart constricted.
Lying back in the grass, he stared at the plain blue sky, wondering how long he could pretend to be dead. The thought of facing her again, of meeting her faint eyes and responding to the name “Ezrael,” was enough to keep him down.
“Get up,” she said. They were still some distance apart, and she moved her head, examining him. “Come closer. I want to get a better look at you.” He approached, uncertain of what awaited him. When he was close enough, she stopped moving, her eyes scanning him from head to toe. Then, with a downcast tone, she said, “You’re not Ezrael.”
He did not confirm or deny it. He did not speak. The only thing he could do was run. He sprinted to his bedroom, slammed the door, and locked it. Leaping onto his bed, he pressed the pillow over his head. He searched for his phone and tried to call Maselli. Who cared that his brother didn’t own a phone? Nothing mattered now.
Conversations happened outside his door as evening fell. Hamis asked if he would come for dinner. When Jenne didn’t respond, he left. Later, Ashey came by and departed the same way.
Late at night, when silence settled, Jenne looked out his window at the forest below. No matter how hard he tried, he could not see the hidden opening in the trees. It remained as concealed as ever, with one exception—a trace of something sweet lingered in the air.
Father Bliss knew his students better than they knew themselves. Not a minute passed in meditation before the priest asked Jenne what was bothering him.
“Nothing,” Jenne lied, trying to appear convincing.
“He’s been this way since yesterday,” said Hamis. “Something spooked him.”
“Hamis…”
Father Bliss shrugged. “That’s the purpose of this class. We’re here to cleanse our minds of outside filth. Anything that distracts you from your studies throughout the week, release it here and now.”
They breathed in together and let it out. Not Jenne. He held his breath, and he would hold it as long as he could.
“What’s the matter with you?” Hamis asked again.
The marker did not stop bothering Jenne in the days ahead. Every chance he got, Hamis would prod him, asking why he was so quiet. He’d trip Jenne and suspend him in the air, forcing him to invent excuses before letting him go. Jenne’s usual answer—that he missed home—eventually failed to satisfy Hamis.
On Friday, they had Hyper Physicals training. Jenne performed horribly. Every step was wrong, and Tenrad criticized him severely. After a brutal and humiliating session, Hamis met Jenne in the gym locker room and shook Jenne by the shoulders.
“Do you know any secret grounds in Se Fina?” Jenne asked, exhausted by his pestering.
Hamis denied it. Jenne believed him. No one who had seen what he had that day would remain so calm in the aftermath.
He waited until night, knowing Hamis was asleep, then slipped out of their hut into the cold evening. Mist hung low, soaking through his sleeping shirt as he moved into the forest. With his enhanced vision, navigating the pitch-black woods was effortless, and soon he arrived back at the garden.
The moon was enormous here, filling the navy sky. At first glance, it seemed deserted. Jenne resolved to circle the glass house once; if he found no one, he would convince himself it had all been a dream and rest easy. Step by step, he moved clockwise around the house.
On the smaller side, more of the same fabrics and woven materials lay scattered across the floor. A twig snapped beneath his shoes, and he froze, eyes shutting instinctively. He half-expected her to be watching when he opened them, but no one was there—a good sign. Passing a partition, he entered the next section. It was mostly empty except for a few candles arranged in a peculiar pattern, none lit. Then he heard it: a faint, eerie humming that made his lungs tighten.
This fear was oddly inviting. He pressed on, reminding himself why he had come. In the final partition of the glass house, he found her behind a dressing mirror, brushing a handful of her hair. She wore a nightgown threaded with moonlight that shimmered with every movement. He longed for her to see him so he could run away again.
She stopped brushing as she noticed him and dragged her chair back, spinning to face the window. Jenne turned and scurried, but she called after him: “Wait!”
He quickened his pace but she caught up, saying, “Would you stop walking away?”
He lowered his hand, about to respond, when something impossible happened. Right before his eyes, she walked through the partition. True, it was a curtain, but no one simply passed through solid material. She was a ghost—or something very close.
Reaching the front of the glass house, he glanced into the forest he had just crossed. “Turn around and look at me. I would speak to you now,” her voice urged.
He obeyed. She stood behind the glass, looking exhausted. Her dress had changed—now a silver gown, laced with sparkling gems along the hem.
“I apologize for scaring you the other day,” she said. “I thought you were someone else. But I am glad you returned. I was hoping you would. There is much I want to know about you. You would not be snooping around if you were not curious yourself.”
She paused, her composure faltering when he did not answer. “Can you talk?”
“Who are you?” he finally asked.
“So, you do talk,” she said, smiling. “You must be a Southerner… and earthen. A real earthen. Fascinating. But how do you smell like an ascender? Are you a student at Se Fina, or do you work here for a wage?”
Her smile faded. “Are you my servant? I’ve asked Renna Sorel for a servant for so long. I wanted someone to talk to. It gets dull.”
Jenne remained silent.
“What is your name?” she pressed.
“Jenne.”
“Jenne? A torch? Renna Sorel gave you that name. She hasn’t told me about you. I wonder why that is.”
“She hasn’t told me anything about you either. I… I don’t think we’re meant to meet. I could get into trouble being here.”
“You found this place. You’re exactly where you were meant to be, accidentally or not. Are you not burning with questions? I can help you answer them.”
“You live in a box,” said Jenne. “How would you know anything?”
“I live in a box, but so do you,” she giggled. “And your box is smaller than mine.”
“You’re a swayer.”
“Not a swayer.”
“You’re magic.”
“I think so.”
“Prove you’re not a swayer,” he challenged.
“How? Unless you open the door and let me out,” she said, poking at the wall. “You can’t smell me through the glass.”
So why could she smell him through the glass? She was lying somehow. There had to be vents around the building, or else she would suffocate and die. Yes, Jenne reasoned, the ghost would suffocate if trapped. But why was she in a cage? Couldn’t she leave if she wanted? If she could, she wouldn’t ask him to open the door.
“Are you alright?” she asked, concern threading her voice. “You stopped moving.”
Jenne stepped closer to the glass. Unable to discern whether the scent lingering in his mind came from her or the flowers, he used the second method Ms. Class had taught him in identifying other ascenders. He drew a deep breath, exhaled, and let a stream of vapour coat the glass. Starting from the crafter hex, he traced six distinct triangles. Her eyes followed, not with wonder but with a faint, teasing amusement.
Jenne covered one eye with his hand. “Walk across the hexes,” he instructed. “Slowly.”
She slapped her hands on her hips and obeyed. The crafter hex was dull. The marker, the ripper, the creator, and the swayer hexes were equally muted. But the fae hex flared green. Jenne removed his hand from his face, defeated.
“Satisfied?” she asked.
“I don’t understand,” he admitted. “Why does it feel like you’re in my head?”
“A fae would always know more than you,” she said. She began branching outward from the six symbols he had drawn, creating more hexes on her side of the glass. She added a seventh, Shaphet’s Law, and two branches from the ripper hex: Gate and Grim-Rippers. One branch emerged from the crafter hex, five from the swayer hex. She continued, adding more than he could count. Once she was certain he had accepted how outmatched in knowledge he was, she stopped.
“That’s… impressive,” he said, sadness pricking him at the discoveries before him.
“This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time,” she laughed.
“I’m glad I could help,” he murmured.
“Don’t be sad. It takes years to learn this much, and even then, I do not know everything.”
“It’s not that at all, Miss,” he said. “I don’t think I should be here. Renna and my teachers at Se Fina haven’t told me about you yet. I can’t put myself in danger.”
She lost her glow. “You’re afraid of me,” she said softly. “You’ve lost friends you weren’t meant to have. Schemel got rid of them, and you’re afraid she’ll do the same to me. Schemel isn’t in the country. She won’t know about us as long as you keep me secret. And would you prefer to avoid me forever or be in my company for a short while?”
Her words mirrored his heart’s language better than he ever could. “How are you not a swayer?” he asked again.
“I’m a fae,” she said simply. “We know some things.”
“Do you know where my parents are?” he asked. “How are they?”
“I don’t know that,” she said. “I’m no oracle.”
Jenne laughed ruefully. “I guess not.”
“I know they live in Blackwood; you’re from Blackwood, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“She would never let you go home,” she said. “Schemel is fond of cages. She put me in one and you in a smaller one.”
“Maybe she just wants to protect me. I don’t know much about her, but I know her better than you.”
“Schemel is good to only herself. She killed Hamis’ father to save Ashey’s after all.”
She was speaking of the unfortunate schism that occurred during the first Henrikian-Sexite negotiation at Tardis. She had mistaken Hamis’ uncle for his father and assumed Pariston Llyod was Ashey’s father. As bizarre as it sounded, Jenne did not refute her claim.
“Why would Hamis call his father his uncle?” he murmured.
“Because he’s trapped in a box, just like us.” She placed her hands together. “There’s a reason Sirios is so miserable.” She giggled. “You know so little.”
“And Pariston?” Jenne asked, ashamed for his curiosity. “Is he really Ashey’s father?”
“I could tell you all you need to know if you opened the door and let me out. I want to stretch my legs in the garden for a bit, then go back inside. It’s unfair to live trapped in the same place.”
Her words reminded him of another faerie he knew. If this was Ezra, he would not have hesitated to let her out. But he couldn’t trust her.
Jenne apologized and left. She watched him long enough to ask, “Are you upset about the secrets they keep from you? Do you feel betrayed?”
“A little.”
“But you have secrets of your own,” she said.
“So do you,” he replied. “I don’t know your name.”
“Because I have not decided yet.”
“On what?”
“On whether you deserve it.”
“Can I know where you’re from at least?”
“That shouldn’t be hard to guess, given what I am.”
“You’re an easterner,” said Jenne. “Solvarian.”
The fae folded her arms, frowning slightly. “Is everyone across the sea Solvarian to you?”
“You’re not Solvarian?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“Would you like to know my ethnicity or my nationality?” she asked. “I could ask you the same. Are you Henrikian?”
“No, I’m a southerner.”
“That doesn’t make you less Henrikian. Your earthen family feeds the city. You pay taxes to the government. You live on Henrikian land.”
“I guess, but I don’t feel Henrikian.”
“Because it represents something you do not stand for.” She placed her hands behind her and leaned closer to the window. “You know, it wasn’t always this way. To be Henrikian was more earthen than anything else. Captain Henrik built this city—and he built it for earthens. That all changed—”
“After the Great Oppression, I know,” mumbled Jenne.
She giggled again. “I like you,” she concluded. “Would you like to meet again, Jenne?”
