Chapter Text
Taylor opened her eyes to an arched stone ceiling. It reminded her of the pictures of old castles and cathedrals she had seen. The word "Gothic" came to mind first. She blinked a few times, to make sure that it wasn't just her eyes playing tricks on her but the ceiling remained as it was. At the edge of her vision, she could see wrought iron lanterns with strange blue crystals inside attached to the pillars the arches rested on, bathing the room in a harsh artificial light.
Her body felt strange, heavy and light at the same time, sluggish and starving but also full of energy. It was a strange mix of signals that left her brain confused. Behind and around her, she felt more polished stone, warm and smooth on her arms, back, and legs.
She felt a light breeze on her chest and realized that she was probably naked.
Fear roiled in her gut and panic started to creep in.
A hoarse scream came from her parched throat, like a wounded animal.
With all the strength she could muster, Taylor forced her body upright. The world swayed and she was forced to catch herself on the side of the strange stone table. She took deep breaths of the cold and stale air. Her senses suddenly sharpened and she was almost overwhelmed. Everything felt so much more. The faint smell of copper, of blood, that drifted through the air was so enticing it made her flush.
"What happened?" Taylor asked.
There was nobody here to answer.
Only hazy memories floated at the back of her mind. Winslow. It was the first day after Christmas break. She had walked to her locker only to find it full of … things. Sophia had tripped her into the pile of trash and shoved her face in with her foot. Everyone had laughed at her. When she had gone to the gym showers, in the basement, Emma and Sophia had dragged her out, naked, drenched, and thrown her into the old boiler room.
The last thing she remembered was Emma's voice, mocking and taunting her, and the sound of the lock, the final click that sealed her fate, then … nothing.
Taylor closed her eyes and took deep breaths. Inhale … Exhale. One after the other. Inhale … Exhale. She focused only on breathing. Inhale … Exhale. Slowly, her mind settled, her shivers stopped, her deathly grip on the stone relaxed.
When she opened her eyes again, she was calm, her mind still like a pond. She looked around, took in her surroundings. The room was circular with the rectangular stone table Taylor sat on at its center. Against the walls were wooden benches and cabinets covered with strange equipment, alembics and tubes, flasks filled with strange liquids, crystals and instruments. Like the laboratory of a mad alchemist.
On the smooth stone floor, around the table, an intricate diagram was drawn in chalk. Scattered on the floor were a dozen or so dead bodies dressed in grey robes. Taylor could tell they were dead at a glance, mostly from the large amount of blood pooled around them, but also from the lack of any discernible breathing.
She felt strangely okay about that.
She was naked in the middle of their occult ritual.
One didn't need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out they had done something to her, or at least tried to.
Taylor looked down and examined her body. The first thing she noticed, and who could blame her really, were the no-so-subtle changes to her figure. She had gained a few sizes in the chest and hips department, enough that she couldn't be mistaken for a boy anymore, and she could see visible muscles on her stomach, arms, and legs.
That was strange but it wasn't the strangest. She had also been tattooed, for some reason. On her chest, arms, legs, and back - though she could only see part of it over her shoulder - were tattoos of roses and petals that looked like they were made of stained glass.
Taylor frowned. She had a lot of questions. Questions like "how did I get here from Winslow?" and "what happened to me?" and "why do this?" but it looked like the people who knew the answer were all very dead.
She rubbed her temples and let out a long sigh.
What had she been dragged into?
She shook her head. That could wait until she was somewhere that was not here. Whether here was the workshop of a particularly crazy tinker who styles themselves as an alchemist or the hideout of a crazy cult or something else, it didn't matter, she needed to get the fuck out before someone else showed up.
With surprising grace, she slipped off the table and landed on the floor, taking care to land between the chalk lines. She was familiar with occult traditions, her mother had written her doctoral thesis on the subject, and if that really was a working ritual, it was a bad idea to disturb it. She very carefully tip-toed around the chalk lines and over the bodies until she reached the outer part of the room. Taylor briefly considered taking clothes from the dead bodies but her nose told her that it was a bad idea, they hadn't only bled all over the floor but also shat and pissed themselves.
It was better to be naked than wear clothes covered in that.
Hopefully, they had spare clothes somewhere. Taylor made a quick circuit around the room and checked all of the shelves, cabinets, and cupboards. Near the entrance, she spotted something on one of the tables, a bundle of red and black fabric.
When she took a closer look, she discovered it was a dress, a very short and revealing dress. It showed off a lot of cleavage and back, practically all of it, with straps to hold everything together. The sleeves would leave most of her shoulders bare too.
Taylor held the piece of clothing in front of her. The size looked right, almost as if it had been tailored for her, and it came with a black petticoat and bloomers so the short skirt wouldn't be a problem.
At that point, she wasn't all that picky.
It was miles better than shit-stained robes.
She quickly put everything on.
Then she saw the various weapons on the next table and grinned.
"Very nice of them to leave me something to defend myself."
She picked up a long sword and swung it around. It felt much lighter than it looked, or she was stronger than she used to, both were possible.
Emily Piggot rubbed her temples. The operations center was a hive of activity and the constant chatter made her headache worse. She kept her gaze locked on the holographic table in front of her. The situation was one hell of a clusterfuck, the worst Brockton Bay had seen in all her time as a director. It was days like this that made her wish she had retired early.
At around nine that morning, reports had started to flood in from the emergency line that a huge bubble had appeared where Winslow High had previously been. Velocity had been first on site and confirmed that the entire school, building and all, had been replaced by "a huge snow globe."
Immediately, she had dispatched more forces to secure the area and figure out what had happened to the school. The entire Protectorate and Wards, except for Shadow Stalker, who was presumably trapped in the anomaly, had been mobilized.
The first bit of good news had come when they registered emergency calls coming from Winslow students and staff. From all the reports they received, the school building had been teleported somewhere inside the anomaly. Several squads had used their bomb disposal robot to enter the bubble and managed to collect samples of the environment.
As far as they could tell, the snow and trees were real. The wolves too. A pack had poked their snouts out of the perimeter and growled at the troopers before retreating back into the forest.
Armsmaster and Kid Win had deployed more advanced drones into the anomaly and figured out that it was larger on the inside, several miles in diameter and height compared to the six-hundred and fifty-two feet the outside of the sphere occupied.
She had launched a reconnaissance mission, volunteers only, to find the school while they secured as many snow rated transports as they could from the national guard for the rescue operation. Most of them had to come from further north and would need several hours to arrive. In the meantime, they had loaded diesel generators and as many portable heaters as they could into the transports they had on hand to allow the school to stave off the cold for as long as possible.
While all of that had been underway, her analysts had pored over every single frame of the drone video in search of clues. So far, they had figured out that the area inside of the anomaly was from somewhere in Central Europe, Transylvania to be precise. At the center of the anomaly, surrounded by dense forests and harsh terrain, was a small village next to a massive, ominous-looking castle. The Winslow building had been displaced next to the village, on the side of the furthest from the castle.
Several agents had joked that, because of the location, it had to be Dracula's castle.
Emily wasn't sure it was wise to tempt fate like that, they already had enough problems without adding vampires to the mix.
It was pretty obvious to Taylor that had no idea how to actually use a sword beyond using it like a giant kitchen knife. The blade in her hands was sharp, extremely sharp, enough to slice through the five inches thick solid wood workbench with minimal resistance. However, when she put her finger on the edge, the blade felt dull, almost as if refused to cut her. It also felt warm in her hand, like an old friend.
She didn't waste time to ponder the implications of this.
Taylor finished her tour of the room but found nothing else of interest aside from a worn leather journal in a drawer. The name of the author was missing and it was written in Latin, which she could now read, for some reason.
More weirdness ...
She tucked the book inside the leather satchel she had found discarded in one of the closets. It had been filled with empty vials and jars, she had kept the ones that looked the cleanest to store food and drink, if she found any, and thrown out the rest. Taylor didn't have much to carry at the moment but that could change as she explored the building.
There was only a single way out of the circular chamber, an arched hallway with prison cells on each side that ended in a large circular staircase. As she advanced, she checked each of the cells through the bars and they were all empty, no monsters waiting to jump at her or long forgotten skeletons, just cold stone and steel. The staircase wasn't all that high, two stories at most, with only a single door at the very top.
Taylor carefully made her way up, her sword ready to slash at the first sign of movement, but nothing jumped out of the shadows. Once at the top, she flattened herself against the wall and awkwardly fumbled with the handle. She managed to work the latch and pushed the door open but it only cracked open a few inches with a loud creaking sound.
"Movies make this look so much easier …" She grumbled.
With a kick, she slammed the door open and raised her sword.
The circular room in front of her was lit by more "conventional" wrought iron sconces that cast deep shadows everywhere. Despite this, Taylor could very clearly see the three shambling corpses in the room turn towards her. They were dressed like medieval peasants, linen shirts and pants held together by rope, and looked like they had seen better days. Their skin was livid and dotted with green and purple patches, their hair had partially fallen off, and their eyes were cloudy.
The zombie closest to her let out a pained moan and slowly, very slowly, shambled towards her.
"AAAAAAAAAAH!"
Taylor shouted a battle cry to give herself courage and rammed her sword straight into the monster's ribcage, the zombie did not even seem to notice and tried to claw at her. She tried to pull the blade out but it made the zombie slump forward. Taylor, acting more out of instinct than anything, kicked the monster in the gut and pulled her sword free.
At her feel, the zombie gave out one last groan and stopped moving.
She turned towards the rest and, this time, slashed horizontally with her sword. The blade went through the first one's torso, she had aimed to decapitate it but she sucked, and the zombie fell to the ground in two parts. Taylor kept the blade's momentum with a spin and bisected the other zombie diagonally from hip to shoulder.
Surrounded by fallen monsters, she breathed deeply for what felt like an eternity.
"Holy shit ... that felt … really nice."
When the adrenaline came down, she noticed something odd about the bodies. Dark smoke seemed to hang around the corpses and yellow shards of crystal had seeped out from the corpses. She took a step back but accidentally bumped one of the corpses.
The black smoke rose into the air and swirled towards her. She backed off further but the smoke picked up speed and reached her. She slashed at smoke but it passed straight through her blade, unaffected by the air currents, and finally reached her. It touched her skin and was sucked up inside like she was a vacuum. Then, she felt a wave of energy wash over her, exhaustion disappeared and she felt better, more energized.
"Okay … I eat … souls now?"
"What about the crystals then?"
She cautiously poked at the yellow crystals with the tip of her sword and, like the smoke, they were sucked towards her but this time, the tattoos on her chest lit up and absorbed all the fragments. She didn't get the same feeling of energy but rather of something being filled.
All of this confirmed she had powers.
Aegis rubbed his arms through his costume. Even after his power had adapted to the temperature inside of the anomaly, he still got chills from time to time. There was something about the forest that made the hairs at the back of his neck stand up.
"How are you holding up, Aegis?" Miss Militia asked through the radio.
She had also volunteered as part of the reconnaissance squad. The director had outright refused to let him enter the anomaly until he pointed out he was the one with the highest chance to survive this kind of environment. Surprisingly, Miss M had backed him up.
Their team was made up of two dozen troopers with survival training from various squads and the two of them. They had piled as much supplies as they could into three large trucks from the National Guard and driven into the unknown to find the Winslow students.
"I'm fine," he answered, "the cold doesn't bother me."
He was their only reliable means of aerial reconnaissance, their drones batteries lasted shorter than usual in the single digit temperatures. He kept an eye out for wolves and giant bats. Those were the second reason why they had trouble with drones, the bats hunted them down as soon as they took off. After Aegis had fought back and punched a few of them into the ground, they had stopped bothering him.
"Aegis, anything new on the horizon?" Sergeant Ramirez asked.
"Nothing but snow and trees," he replied with a sigh, "the road turns left in about eighty yards."
"Johnson?"
"Same old over here, sir."
"Stay sharp people, if the map Armsmaster just sent is right, we're half an hour from the village."
"Any ideas if there are hostiles?"
"Inconclusive. As far as they can tell, the place is abandoned."
Taylor beheaded the last zombie in the room, she flexed her power and the clusters of essence and crystals flowed into her felt from the various bodies that littered the floor. The various scrapes she had acquired during the fight closed. For every enemy she killed, her own power increased by a minute amount when she harvested the black mist.
Besides zombies, she hadn't found much while exploring the various hallways and chambers of the alchemist's workshop. She had stumbled upon laboratories with alembics or cauldrons surrounded by a plethora of ingredients, rooms that had steampunk contraptions straight out of a Frankenstein movie, human-sized test tubes filled with green liquids, massive electrical coils, clockwork machines whose purpose she couldn't discern.
What she hadn't found yet was a kitchen or a bedroom. There had to be one somewhere, whoever's lair this was, they had to eat and sleep at some point.
Hopefully.
She opened the door marked "LAB 13" and found exactly what she expected to find, another laboratory. At least the mysterious alchemist-tinker was organized, even if the place could have used some signs with directions. Strange machines hummed in the background and seven glass cloches, around four feet in diameter and three high, were arrayed in a half-circle at the back of the room.
Her eyes landed on the black, furry creature trapped under the center-most cloche. It looked like a dog, or maybe a wolf, with red markings on its forehead, almost like horns. Taylor felt herself drawn towards the creature.
She had not even noticed until she was half-way across the room.
The black wolf saw her and let out a plaintive whine while its paws scratched against the glass.
Taylor took a deep breath and looked around the room for a possible ambush but she only found discarded machine parts and piles of rocks. Carefully, she approached the cloche. The wolf looked at her and seemed happy that she had come closer, it poked at the glass with its muzzle and even licked it.
"We're in the same boat, you and I."
She tapped on the glass and the wolf enthusiastically pawed at where her fingers were.
"Okay, let's get you out of here …"
She wasn't sure if it was the best decision but it was the one that felt right. She searched for a way to release the latches on the cloche but she couldn't find anything, everything looked to be actuated by pistons and gears. An idea struck her and Taylor looked at her sword, particularly its very pointy pommel, then back at the cloche.
It looked a bit like one of those glass-breaking safety hammers.
She swung the pommel at the glass with all her strength. The cloche rang like a church bell but a few cracks appeared on the surface. She swung again and the cracks spread. The third time, she used the back of her blade as a hammer and the cloche shattered.
The wolf jumped out and approached her with its tail wagging.
Taylor knelt down and scratched it behind the ears.
"I guess you want to stick with me?"
The wolf barked and she felt something snap into place. For a brief instant, they became one, she was the wolf and it was her, then it was over and things returned to normal. Except that now, she could feel the invisible thread that connected them.
"What the …"
She was interrupted by the sound of stone grinding against stone. When she looked up, what had appeared to be inert piles of rock were in the process of assembling themselves into crude, humanoid shapes.
Golems? It kind of made sense for an alchemist to …
Taylor didn't have the time to gawk, she ran towards the door with the wolf right on her heels, and slammed the door closed. Something, probably the golems, slammed on the door but it held.
"Okay, I get it, no more touching!"
The wolf whined in agreement.
The deafening rapport of Miss Militia's anti-tank rifle echoed over the sounds of battle. In the distance, the figure in medieval armor crumpled as the high velocity round found its target. Aegis tackled the closest empty suit of armor to the ground and wrestled for control of its axe. Around him, troopers fired shotguns loaded with heavy slugs and launched foam grenades at the rest of their assailants.
The armor had surprising strength despite being empty. He struggled to twist the blade of the axe away from his neck. The armor under him lacked the leverage to throw him off and Aegis finally managed to rip the axe out of the armor's grip. Without hesitation, he slammed the weapon down as hard as he could on the empty helmet which crumpled inwards with a satisfying sound. The armor stopped struggling and fell into pieces.
With his new weapon in hand, Aegis barreled towards the nearest animated suit of armor and started to hack away at it. The double headed axe was heavy and the blows left large dents in the armor. His opponent, unable to maneuver its spear properly at such close range, quickly fell to the assault. Aegis glanced up and saw that only two armors still stood.
Miss Militia fired her anti-tank rifle again and one of the remaining armors crumpled to the ground, its helmet pulverized into fragments. The last armor walked right into a foam grenade on its way towards a pair of troopers huddled behind a riot shield.
"Clear," Miss M called out.
"Clear," Aegis called out.
He relaxed and swung the axe up to rest on his shoulder. PR would probably blow a fit if they learned about it but maybe they'd let him keep it as a souvenir, it would look awesome on his wall.
"Get moving people!" The sergeant shouted over the radio. "We need to reach the school!"
In the span of thirty seconds, the injured troopers were carried back to the transports by their friends and everyone was back inside, their weapons ready to repel another assault. The three vehicles roared into action and drove towards their objective with renewed fervor.
Taylor pulled her sword out of the last zombie and pulled its essence and crystals towards. After her encounter with the two stone golems, she had been much more careful when she explored the various rooms around the labyrinthine compound. Fenrir, her new wolf companion, sniffed at one of the doors that lined the circular room.
"What did you find?" She asked.
The plaque on the door had seen some better days, the paint that made the letters stand out had mostly flaked off which made it harder to read the text, but it was still intact.
"A library?" Taylor tilted her head.
She carefully pushed the door open and peeked inside. As the sign said, it was a library. Instead of traditional bookshelves, however, it had cabinets and display cases with glass doors, probably to better protect the books. The room was on two levels, with wooden walkways around and between the stacks of cabinets, and circular staircases made of wrought iron at regular intervals.
The floor was covered in polished stone tiles that formed an intricate pattern across the entire room, which looked to be around sixty feet on each side and a good twenty in height. Amber crystals were used in place of torches and gave off a pleasant warm light that reminded Taylor of a sunset. At the back, directly across the entrance, was an alcove with several seats and tables. The fireplace was lit and the flames crackled softly from behind a grate.
It was a stark contrast to the rest of the area which had very little thought put towards aesthetics.
Taylor carefully advanced through the room, wary of any guardians or traps left behind to prevent any unwanted visitors. Meanwhile, Fenrir disappeared between the stacks, his nose to the ground in search of something.
As she passed through the shelves, Taylor read the titles on display. They were written in various languages that ranged from ancient Greek and Latin to French and German. And the strangest thing was that Taylor understood all of them. The books were on a variety of occult subjects like alchemy, astrology, or conjuration. Magic. Things that, not too long ago, she would have dismissed as superstition.
Out of curiosity, Taylor pulled one of the heavy tomes whose title translated to "The Art of Sorcery (Vol. IX: Advanced Chaos and Void Magics)," out of its display case. She quickly leafed through the first few pages but had to slow down, even the preamble was dense with technical terms that she didn't have the knowledge to understand. It was obvious, in retrospect, that picking the ninth volume to start with was a bad idea.
Taylor placed the tome back in the display case and went in search of volume one. The library was not particularly well organized, books about wildly different subjects were next to each-other and related topics were strewn about seemingly at random. At least, books from the same series were kept together.
She found the other volumes of The Art of Sorcery in the cabinet under the display case. There were twelve volumes in total that began with Fundamental Principles, followed by Basic Conjuration, Simple Enchantments, and Essential Alchemy, then went on to specific branches. Taylor brought the four volumes into the alcove and placed them on the low table.
The seats were old-fashioned, made of dark wood carved with motifs of flowers and dragons and soft red velvet cushions. Taylor sat down and shifted her skirt out of the way. She had never worn a petticoat before and it was somewhat awkward to sit with. The chair was so incredibly comfortable, the fabric of the cushion so soft on her exposed legs and back, that it wasn't that big of an issue.
She picked up Fundamental Principles and ran her hands on the cover of the large tome. The leather was embossed with golden letters and incredibly detailed artwork of three spheres, each with their own distinct glyph, linked together by spiraling branches. A myriad of creatures, plants, and minerals were drawn in every nook and cranny between the tendrils. When she cracked it open, Taylor discovered it was an illuminated manuscript, with intricate decorations on the border every page and colorful illustrations around the paragraphs.
Before she could start to read the first chapter, movement at the edge of her vision caught her attention. She looked up and saw Fenrir appear from between the cabinets. The wolf trotted towards her and gave the books a few sniffs. Apparently satisfied with her choice, he lay down at her feet and curled up against her legs. Taylor bent down and scratched between his ears a few times before she went back to the grimoire.
The practice known as Sorcery, which is also commonly called Magic, Witchcraft, Occultism, and many other names across cultures, is the manipulation of Mana, magical energy, inherent to the practitioner or borrowed from other sources, to impose changes upon the fabric of reality. It is in opposition to Miracles or Theurgy which call upon external divine forces to achieve their effects.
Sorcery is divided into three principal branches: Conjuration, the shaping of mana into constructs which directly alter reality in accordance with the wishes of the caster. This branch is considered the first among peers, often called the Root of Sorcery, and can achieve great workings but lacks permanence unless great care is taken. To address this, two more branches were derived from the root. Enchantment, the inscription of mana constructs into physical objects, and Alchemy, the use of mana to transform, infuse, or create substances with mana.
Taylor had expected more mystical mumbo jumbo, spirits and demons, aconite and nightshade, but the text read more like a university textbook. It did not attempt to convince the reader of the veracity of its claims, it simply stated them as fact. The first chapter built the necessary foundations for the reader, it introduced the basic technical terms and ideas that were at the core of sorcery and walked the reader through the process of casting their first spell.
"If this doesn't work," Taylor mumbled to herself, "I'm going to feel really stupid."
She closed her eyes and pictured the glyph drawn on the page, which looked a bit like an eye, in her mind. It was not as complex as some of the other examples presented, but was still a challenge even with her good memory. When she managed to hold the glyph steady, she felt something click at the back of her mind, and she spoke the incantation. The words felt strange on her tongue.
When she opened her eyes, however, a small sphere of light hovered over her palm.
"Holy shit … Y'er a witch, Taylor."
The Winslow campus looked out of place at the edge of the quaint little village. The houses had pointed roofs and visible wooden beams on their walls. The streets, those not covered in snow, looked to be lined with actual cobblestones and lit with lanterns. It was a stark contrast to the flat concrete walls, steel shutters, and flat roof of the school.
The trucks stopped right next to the gym building, where all the students had been gathered. Miss Militia knocked on the metal double doors once the troopers had established a secure perimeter. They did not have enough people to secure the whole campus but, according to what the school staff had said, none of the creatures in the village had tried to approach, and they hoped it stayed that way until the next wave of reinforcements showed up.
A blonde teen holding a baseball bat opened the door. Aegis could see five more behind him, their improvised weapons at the ready. When they saw Miss M, they all breathed a collective sigh of relief.
"The Protectorate is here!" One of them shouted.
Cheers erupted from the students inside.
"We brought generators, space heaters, and food," Miss M said.
"Thank god," another teen said, "the heater stopped working a while ago and nobody wanted to risk going to the basement, we started burning desks and gym equipment to keep warm."
Aegis entered the gym after Miss M and floated up. Hundreds of students were huddled around the improvised fire pits. Teachers walked between the groups while some of the senior students, armed with baseball bats and hockey sticks, kept watch on the various entrances.
"Look, it's Aegis," one student below pointed at him.
"We can finally leave," another said.
Miss Militia climbed on the bleachers and addressed the crowd.
"I know today has been hard," she said, "and, unfortunately, it's not over yet. Due to the heavy snowfall, rough terrain, and hostile creatures in the area, a safe evacuation is not possible with our current means. The PRT is working hard with the National Guard to bring trucks and additional troops to ensure you can all safely be brought back home."
"Aegis and I were sent ahead with several squads of PRT agents and supplies. We have brought generators and heaters to fend off the cold, food and drinks, and people to help defend the area, but we need your help to make it happen. We need people to carry the supplies from the trucks and help our mechanics set up the generators."
Most of the students in the crowd looked terrified, some even cried, and a few looked angry at them. They whispered among themselves until one of the students, an older boy with dark skin, stood up.
Everyone was silent.
"I will help," his voice carried.
"Me too," another student, this one with blonde hair, stood up.
"Everyone who wants to volunteer, gather here," one of the teachers shouted.
Aegis relaxed and floated down, they were going to make it.
Taylor woke up when Fenrir barked, she looked around for a threat but there was nothing, the library was quiet, only the crackling of the fire echoed through the room. She rubbed at her eyes and yawned. She had not expected to fall asleep, Taylor had been absorbed in the grimoires, but exhaustion from all the fights had finally caught up to her and the feeling of safety the library provided had lulled her to sleep.
Again, she heard Fenrir call for her with several quick barks. Through their link, she felt his call as well, he was urging her to come and see what he had discovered. With a sigh, she put down her book and went to search for her canine companion. He wasn't hard to find, the library wasn't that large after all.
"What's the matter?" She scratched the top of his head. "Found something interesting?"
The shelves had more than just books, scattered everywhere were various trinkets and curios, ornate wooden boxes, and small clockwork devices. Fenrir had put his front paws on a display case and his muzzle was pressed against the glass. Inside was an array of colored crystals on small cushions and a tome. They reminded her of the glowing shards she collected from the zombies, only those were complete.
"You did find something," Taylor opened the latch on the display case but before she could open the glass, Fenrir pawed at the handle of the drawer that was just under the display case, and pulled it slightly open. It revealed a tome Treatise on shardbinders and their origins.
"Required reading?" she asked.
Fenrir chuffed and rubbed against her legs, which she took as a yes. She pulled the book out and lay it on the glass. It was pretty dry compared to the Art of Sorcery and the author seemed to have been more than a little mad but it was also pretty informative. It talked about people called shardbinders who could absorb crystallized power, shards, from demons to wield their powers. They were created through gruesome alchemical rituals that embedded demonic crystals inside them. According to the book, the rate of success was incredibly low and failure meant death or worse.
The last chapter had a theory that it was possible to create what the author referred to as a True Shardbinder, someone who could not only take power from demons but also improve on them and even forge their own shards.
Taylor eyed the crystals in the display case.
The ritual she had been subjected to had turned her into a shardbinder, it was why she collected crystals from the zombies. At the same time, it didn't explain the black mist or the strange thing she had going on with Fenrir, the book made no mention of that at all.
Except …
The Art of Sorcery, in the chapter on enchanting, had mentioned the concept of resonance, where two or more enchants could generate unexpected results if care wasn't taken. Maybe it was the same with her. She was a shardbinder and something else, she wasn't certain yet but she had a hunch, and those two had resonated with each-other.
Taylor opened the case and looked at the crystals with a raised eyebrow. She hovered her hand above one of the shards, the yellow one, and felt the slight pull, like a magnet, from the crystal exactly as described in the book. She took a deep breath and pulled.
The shard flew towards her and stabbed through the rose tattoo on her chest. It was more surprise than anything that made her take a step back, then the pain came. She clutched at her chest and gritted her teeth as the crystal sank into her chest. Then it was over. The pain vanished and she was left out of breath but none the worse for weak.
She felt something bloom at the back of her mind. It wasn't only awareness of the shard she had just absorbed but of several more as well. They formed several clusters, one with the yellow shard and eight empty spaces, another one with a single large shard surrounded by five small ones, and the final one with four medium shards each surrounded by two small ones. She was at the metaphorical center of everything, the largest shard in terms of size. Inside of this one were six and a half motes of energy clustered together.
It was a lot to take in. But she had finally managed to get a hand on her abilities, or part of them at least, and found some invaluable resources, both in terms of knowledge and power. She still wanted to get out of this place and find her way back home, her dad was probably worried to death about her, but the library was an opportunity she couldn't afford to pass up.
The maze of corridors had mostly housed zombies but there was no guarantee it would stay that way. If she came face-to-face with tougher opponents, proper demons most likely, then she needed to be prepared.
Taylor grabbed the second shard and pulled.