Chapter Text
The book sprite walked slowly to the edge of the keep's wall, the gloom of pre-dawn enough to hide her for now, from any mages should they have wondered in to the area. While alone, she stood watching as the sky slowly bloomed into the brightness of warmth colours, her mind ran in circles like a puppy chasing its tail. Sadness seemed to radiate from the sprite's small form, regardless of the beauty of the world surrounding her.
That morning she had risen from her scruffy nest of cast-offs, in the soft grey light the harsh actualization that today was her last in this strange form of liberation. Something she had unexpectedly woken to find, and a state she was finding a part of her would like to selfishly retain. *But I am bound regardless.* A soft sigh left her as a wave of depression crested once more, dampening any joy she felt.
Last night, she was positive that the cat witcher who had startled her, will have reported her presence to the residing mages, and they would be coming to discipline her before long.
She shivered from her very core at the thought of those hated men and their foul touches, be it by looks or physical or magic. Deep scars had been carved and still lay on her soul from their past cruelties.
In what could be her last moments of freedom, a quiet final defiant stand, she took a small amount of damped joy in just standing and breathing the clean mountain air.
Resolved, the book sprite waits for her doom to arrive, hidden in the comforting shadows cast from her vantage point. While watching as the keep awoke slowly from its night slumber. Water was drawn from the well. Newly stoked fires sent smoke into the air, and the smell of the kitchen's producing vast amounts of food reached her. Animals lowed, and in turn was called a greeting by those who were tending to the morning chores.
A lone figure had caught the melancholy sprite's interest, while it bolted witcher quick, away from the odd new building that burped smoke and bellowed sound periodically. An interesting area, she had overheard while spying during the chatter of one evening meal, it had been constructed merely for the crane witchers to use. Distracted from her bleak mood, an urgency seemed to speed them onwards. The sprite watched the lightning-fast process across the open land between the keep and the building, as the large witcher drew closer, she could see their arms were full of rolled-up scrolls.
Curious, she closed her ochre eyes while sending a trickle of her kind's magical energy to mentally brush the collection within the man's big corded arms. "Oh greetings blueprints, were well looked after my lovelies?" She softly crooned. "I look forward to tucking you away in your new home later."
The realization then hit her hard. The need to once more weep washed over her, with despair strangling thickly at her throat like choking ivy.
She had failed.
There were no additional schools to pin her significant yearnings on. No more people to give treasured gifts and hope they gallantly save her. All the book sprites avenues had fully closed. Past begging and screaming herself raw in the centre of the grand hall during tonight's evening meal, like some petulant child throwing a tantrum.
The sun's bright rays emitted on her while it began its usual climb towards its zenith, the warmth on her body seemed to matter little. To her aching and freezing soul, the sun's heat was nothing, leaving the distressed sprite feeling cold. *Alone!*
After standing for a while, stunned to the spot, the sprite needed to return to their beloved library and attempt to regain whatever dribbles of magic they could. Her steps were heavy with fatigue, she cursed herself for the frivolous spending of power last night. It was stupid to flicker back to where her resting place should have existed.
It was instinct that caused her to respond with a portal to safety when the cat witcher, who looked like her was about to eat her, suddenly pounced. Her reaction, one born from the mage's past evil games.
Furthermore, it was unwise to have used so much power when she had no way to easily recharge. With her containment glass box gone, how long before she was also terminated? She rested for a moment in the shadows of an alcove before she could once more move on to her destination.
The keeper of Kaer Morhen's library was trailing her slender fingers over the spines of books as she passed. She felt the gentle thrumming of knowledges power as it trickled through her fingertips, pooling in her tired body. The books, almost vibrating and eager to share what they could, recognizing her as the one who looked after their wellbeing.
The strained smile she'd held since walking from the outside wall this morning felt hollow and about to shatter any moment. But she felt the need to look joyful before her chargers, they were innocent to her plight, and cherished, like children to their mother.
"Thank you for seeing me, for the nourishment." Her natural whisper-soft voice floated among the stacks. "Thank you all." Tears bubbled to the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall unbid.
Closing her eyes to throttle her emotions, the sprite let her sensors spread outwards, a crystal glass map in her mind formed of Kaer Morhen, she could feel the warm pulse of each charge under the keeper's tender care. Old and new alike, it did not matter if she had interacted with them since awakening, time held no sway over her claim.
First, those books clustered close to hand in the dense, orderly stacks of her main territory.
Then further afield where smaller piles or neat rows lay, in the personal rooms of the inhabitants of the keep, she would never dare enter such hallowed places.
Yes, she knew which room held what library book and the state that reading matter was in. Each was a small bright spot emitting on the twilight map of her mind.
On a whim, she narrowed her focus to the specific books and scrolls she had given out as gifts over the last few weeks, each sparkling back at her tender call.
Snapping, her ochre red-brown eyes suddenly open, a deep frown now replacing the wooden smile. "My lovelies, why are you all there?" Concern clear in the words.
Weighing up the options of walking so far just to satisfy her peculiar nature. Over leaving the library where she should be easily found. The sprite decides to go discover why so many of her gifts were crowded together in one room.
A final bright strand of hope pulled on her psyche.
It is with outrage engulfing her soul, that the book sprite returns via a portal, back to the side room off Kaer Morhen's library. Anger clouded her rational need to reserve energy.
Struggling to drag the large, once-locked chest into the main part of her dominion. She flips open the lid with forcefulness, gently lifting, nuzzling and cradling each book or scroll in turn. Whispering soft words of comfort like a protective individual would to a harmed child.
Rage builds in her breast, rising like hot molten laver filling a caldera, slowly searing her mind.
*How dare they!* To turn their back on her was one thing, and she could forgive them for that insult.
But to do such a crime as this, would have been an affront to any of the witcher school keepers were they alive, let alone the last of her kind in servitude to them.
To lock up knowledge that was freely given as a gift was unthinkable. *Heinous mutant barbarians.*
Voices from the hallway made her head rise sharply, red-brown eyes narrowed. They sounded joyful, joking fresh from the midday meal, as they came closer to the library. *Oh! No you don't.* She thinks in scathing outrage.
Reaching for her dangerously dwindling store of magic, she additionally bolsters the small cash by using her very life force. Grimly determined, she slams shimmering barriers at all entrances to the library, bar one. Adding further protection in the form of Yrden holding traps just past those thresholds, a second layer of glimmering colour pops up on her glass mental war map.
Small in body she might be, meek by nature, yet at this dire moment she was not that entity. The waters of grief, the air of despair, the fires of fury and the bedrock of her soul combined with resolve. Shoulders thrown back, stance tall with pride and duty, the unseen flows of chaos seemed to vibrate around the book sprite. Then provoked they became forces to rival nature.
She was a custodian of knowledge, held wisdom, oh so much understanding in many things, and battle tactics was one subject. Like a general marshalling his troops into position, the sprite assembled her plans.
Cut off all entrances.
Save resources.
Be adaptable, and think ahead.
Form a viable chokehold.
Stand within the murder area.
Fear not death.
Once, many aeons ago, when she was still keeper of Morgraig castle, the witchers would have bought the children within her boundary should the castle encounter the risk it might fall.
Then she was expected to repel all invaders until help arrived or burn herself to the ground trying, all keepers knew they were any library's last defence. *A privilege*
As the first intruder, thankfully not a mage, stepped over the threshold, she acted swiftly. Casting a snagging Yrden trap on their feet, followed by a quick Aard air blast, knocking them head over heels out of the room. Voices of shock and laughter.
Her emotions seethed at the sound and joined the churning, pressurized, volcanic driving force she had become. *Mock me at your peril*
The next to fall victim was a purple skinned witcher, she cared little about such matters. Just that he met her profound wrath when they had hardly set a booted foot over her invisible battle line, before she blasted them too back into the safety of the corridor.
Currently, she was not looking to kill, hoping to drive them back and make her point. Her unusual behaviour gaining her a brief pause, while her foe was confused.
The sprite could hear their hurried words but was too distracted pooling her dwindling store of power, to pay them much attention.
Let them make plans. *Bring it on, my masters, let's dance.* She felt her face harden.
The following endeavour was two witchers bursting through the doorway at once. Like a well-oiled machine, one threw a steel side knife at her, which she managed to duck. While the other attempted to attack her with a condensed Igni fire stream.
Throwing a quick Quen shield before her for protection, she felt the tension in her manoeuvre to further Aard both witchers out beyond the entrance. Breathing hard from the strain, she gave a small sob of despair. If they kept pushing her like that, she would burn out far too quickly.
But then what life had she?
Through the thunder of the anger-heated blood in her ears, the sprite could hear more witcher's angrily shouting, it was past her boundaries, and thus she gave it little consideration. *Call the mages, I care not any more.*
Eyes closed to help in her concentration, the livid keeper's mental war map showed her twinkling defences within the boundaries of the great library.
No other breaches had been attempted while she fought in her killing zone, so she looped and tied off small trickles of power to her static traps, using the library's dormant reserve. Thus reducing the strain on herself.
This meant she could afford moderate attention to the next attack the witchers would no doubt attempt, and probably soon, with how quiet it had suddenly got.
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Dark thoughts warning:
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The gentle book sprite was well aware that she was on a path of self-destruction. One that would no doubt end in her death, one way or another.
However, she no longer wished to live in this strange world she had woken in.
With her power reserves so low, she could no longer move any more of the orphaned books to Kaer Morhen.
There was the matter that children had deposed her role as the keeper of the library.
Then her sisters' deaths.
No, she had little to live for.
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End thoughts:
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