Nicholas made eye contact with a marble bust on a podium and bowed his head in a way he hoped came off more deferent than dismissive. There wasn't time to worry about it. He navigated the halls quickly, all too aware he was racing against two tough, athletic, magic-wielding men. Malik had the advantage of encaline, the charmstone; it would lead him directly to the powerful charm that anchored the seer to Halcifer. Nicholas had the advantage of the shortest path and the journal in his hands.

In the chaos of the cave in, he had leaned into his own clumsiness, letting himself be jostled and thrown around as the ceiling rained over them. Malik, who had adamantly carried Nicholas' work bag (and not much else) throughout their journey, was in that moment too focused on surviving to notice Nicholas crashing into his side, let alone the hand diving into the bag's pocket. With a well-timed stumble, Nicholas had placed himself across the center of the mosaic just as the first fractures appeared in the tile.

Now, walking alone through a darkening castle with eyes in its walls, he contemplated hubris. He ducked every time he glimpsed a portrait frame, but many of them were faceless, washed out by the sun or destroyed by wind, rain, and alarmingly, claws. Three flights of stairs, two unfortunate bladder movements (for an abandoned castle, there really were a lot of noises), and one curved door later, he stood at the entrance to a tiny, hexagonal library.

He noticed, inching back into the doorway, that the paintings on these walls had hardly faded. There were no windows, only a stained-glass ceiling that probably didn't let in much sun in broad daylight; so close to dusk, the room was nearly dark. The walls and shelves were wrapped in crawling plants that shouldn't have been able to grow here. The floor was almost completely hidden - by more vines, but also cracking clay sculptures, tarnished statues, suits of armor, dolls, bones. Anything with eyes, or at least a space for them.

Nicholas let the door fall. Fighting the urge to check that it hadn't somehow locked behind him, he cleared his throat and said, "Hello? Miss Dalisay?"

The granite wall opposite him was carved in the likeness of a fair, strict woman from the shoulders up. It was a dedication to Halcifer's first headmistress, but Nicholas supposed that wasn't stated anywhere in the journal. For all he knew, in this version of things he was looking at Dalisay. He opted for that, if only for somewhere to aim his supplicating smile.

"You snuck in."

Nicholas whipped to his left and faced the seer. The witch, apparently, even if he hadn't written her that way (though, when he thought about it, he may have not written her any way at all. Maybe this was how the journal had filled the empty space around her existence, by creating a new branch of magic altogether).

She peered down at him from the portrait of a later, grayer headmaster. Its mouth moved when she spoke, its long beard dipping in and out of frame. "You snuck in. Tell me how, tell me how, tell me why I did not feel you, tell me why I can see you but I still cannot feel you, tell me how!"

Her voice wasn't so much a voice but the rustle of the vines along the walls, the scraping of metal against the shelves, the scattering of skeletal paws over the floor. Yet somehow the sound came directly from the painting's mouth, and somehow every syllable rang clear, and somehow he heard her in it, the witch, the woman.

"I'm...not sure. Sorry. But- it could be," said Nicholas, "I don't have any magic."

"Everybody has magic." Nicholas spun again, this time staring up at a portrait of a ghoulish old headmistress. "It is woven into the earth, fool, and our flesh is born from the earth, fool."

"Not mine." Nicholas held up the book for her to see. There was an unsettled swishing as the floor shifted. "I would like to ask, um, humbly, that you lend me your sight. Ma'am."

The statues, the dolls, the carcasses - all of it began to stand, like a wave rolling over the floor.

"How dare you," she hissed, her voice jumping rapidly from portrait to portrait, centuries of headmasters, until Nicholas was dizzy. "How dare you, how dare you, how dare you!"

He tried to step back toward the door and nearly lost his balance as vines slithered underfoot.

"Is every man from every universe rotten?" A fangy skull gnashed its teeth, a suit of armor bashed its fist against a bookshelf. "What do I owe? Why must I see for you? It is not my fault you are all as dumb and blind as kittens, you kitten, you pitiful kitten, haven't I done enough?"

A tiny skeleton on four legs nipped at Nicholas' ankle with pinprick teeth. Nicholas had to grab a shelf for footing as Dalisay wailed.

"I think I can help you."

The floor shuddered, grumbled, and stilled. "What do you mean?"

"It isn't just that I have no magic, it's like...I'm so magicless that I cancel magic. My hands, my skin..." To prove it, he bent over and pulled his socks low, so the skeleton at his feet bit his bare ankle and slumped. The room murmured. He withdrew his foot and it clambered onto its paws.

"If I touch the talisman and release its magic, even for a second..."

"Would you really?" asked Dalisay from the mouth of a cloth doll with button eyes. The skeleton arched its spine warily. "You would free me, would you?"

"Yes," Nicholas said, tight in the throat because he knew he wouldn't get the chance.

The skeleton trotted over to Nicholas' other foot and stretched its head, rubbing its cheek against his ankle. It began to purr.

"Oh!" she cried. "I was a child, you know, when they took me, and only so much older when the fighting began. And now, how long have I been young? Was I ever truly young, if I've only been young in this room? How long have I been dead? You must be an angel - or a reaper, oh, I will take either, any, if I may leave this place!"

The floor rippled outward in all directions as the junk cleared itself from the center of the room, scuttling toward the walls to reveal a raised circular dais inscribed with runes.

"Come," said Dalisay. "Where I can see you."

Nicholas stepped onto the dais, careful not to touch the object at its center. There, still standing upright after centuries, was a scale welded intricately from bronze and glass. It curved along the stem like a wise old tree, holding up matching round trays with the chains dangling from its branches.

"Do you see the irony? They lectured me about balance. And then they killed each other."

A mud-colored crystal was inlaid at the junction between the branches, unremarkable save for the way it popped and hissed, crackling with barely-held energy. The more significant the object, the more powerful a charm it could hold. For a feat so impossible as binding a body and soul for life, only an impossible talisman would do. The ugly brown gem on the scale was made of all nine kova zem, altogether.

"I don't know how to get home," said Nicholas.

The woman in the granite wall closed her eyes, then opened her mouth to speak. Dalisay looked into his past and said, "You have been alone a long time, have you, Nicholas?"

He made a sound like he'd been punched. But he nodded.

"How long do you feel you've been alive?"

Nicholas hesitated. The wording was strange, but...

"Seven years."

At least, the first seven years of his life were the only ones he truly felt he'd lived. That seemed to appease her.

"You had a lot to say once, when you were very young. Do you remember?"

He shook his head.

"What a shame, what a shame. Such a sweet voice you had, all those years ago."

She moved on to his present. "Oh! You know a witch, how delightful."

"I don't."

"That book you hold. Perhaps it wears another name where you come from, but here we call it witchcraft. Sorcery for the cultured few. She gave you a wonderful gift, I do hope you thank her."

"Gift?" Nicholas spluttered. "This thing ruined my life."

"History cannot be undone, only destroyed and rewritten."

Those were Cici's word's. He had heard them too many times to forget.

"What? Wait, how do you-"

The carving's eyes flew open. Nicholas had to hop to avoid the vines swarming the dais, steered by their olive-shaped flowers - brown with seeds at the center, white and red on every petal, like bloodshot eyes. They curled atop the dais, slowly taking shape.

Dalisay's next words echoed off the walls. "Tread heavily. Look behind you. If you fear fire, learn to harden your skin; you will burn with every step-"

Her booming voice dropped away. The image drawn on the dais was only fully formed for a second before the vines recoiled with a whistling sound, and every figure littering the floor reared onto its haunches. Moments later, Adrian barreled through the door.

"You're here! Saints, we were so worried." He threw his arms around Nicholas. Between the two of them, he looked worse for wear. "Well, mainly I was, but you know Malik, he hides well."

"You're with the Faisan," snarled Dalisay, everywhere at once. The floor surged in on Adrian, an army of animated bodies stalking toward him in tides. They had him encircled before he could press his back to the door.

Nicholas threw himself from the dais and into harm's way. The attack came to a growling hault, and Adrian murmured from behind him, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Don't hurt him. Remember our deal? I'll keep up my end, but you can't hurt him."

Nicholas made up his mind that he meant it, all of it. Even if the journal wouldn't perfectly match up. He had enough proof. Dalisay didn't have to suffer for his sake.

"You formed a pact with this wretch?" sneered Adrian. "Well then tell your friend to stop attacking mine. Leave him be! We came peacefully - Malik has done nothing to you!"

Anger rolled through the room, so bright Nicholas could see it in the empty sockets and lifeless eyes surrounding them. "Do you even know?" asked the walls. "Do you know? Do you have any idea? Have you any knowledge of your history, wretch? Or will it shock you to learn who chained me here? I can feel him, I can feel his magic!"

Nicholas watched it dawn on Adrian - the immense power of the Faisans, their command over encaline. The fact that Malik did know his history, and was too smart not to have anticipated the target on his back, and had come anyway.

"Malik had nothing to do with that. He's fighting for his life out there."

"You do not know a grudge until you've been half-dead hundreds of years, boy."

"You chose to serve Halcifer."

"It was that or die! If I had been any older, I may have chosen death. Tell me, were you ever handed a noose as a child?"

Adrian glanced at the door. When he turned back, his eyes had hardened to stone.

"Fine," he said, bowing his head. "I...apologize. Forgive me. Please allow me to use your eyes."

"What will you offer in return?"

"My friend."

The walls cackled. The dais cleared again. Adrian stepped onto it. He held his chin high, but he looked unsteady.

"I need..." he rasped. He looked to Nicholas. "Can you come here?" Nicholas moved to the edge of the dais, but Adrian pleaded, "Closer."

Any closer might disrupt her sight. Nicholas did what he could, reaching out his hand. Adrian grasped it tight enough to hurt, and didn't let go until the carving in the wall had closed its eyes.

"You miss your father deeply, don't you?"

Adrian didn't react until the silence had stretched on too long. Only when he said, "Every day," the corners of his mouth drawn tight, did Dalisay continue.

"You miss your mother as well, although she is still with you. But then, is she?"

"She is," Adrian snapped. The floor began to groan. The woman on the wall's mouth twitched downward, eyes fluttering. Adrian retreated toward the middle of the dais as bony claws began to scrape at its rim. "No," he wheezed. "No, she isn't. She's been gone a long time."

The room settled.

"What have you felt since?"

"I've been...sad, of course. But I'm trying my best."

The floor rustled. "What have you felt the most?" Dalisay demanded.

Through clenched teeth, Adrian admitted, "Bitterness."

Then, the present. "One dead, one good as dead. Instead of taking their place, you have fled Sigla Palace to drown in your incompetence and...oh, what is that? Ambition. So great an ambition you do not know what to do with yourself. It has taken everything within you to hold it back, you poor, valiant boy. You take it upon yourself to carry all the world, don't you?"

This was not a question Adrian had to answer, but he nodded anyway.

Her eyes shot wide. The vines began to move. The force of Adrian's fortune was so great, her voice rattled the shelves. "Dig through the sands of Lake Charlatan for the poison you seek. Pull it up by the root and possess it, or else cut it at the stem and watch it bloom twice as bright."

Nicholas recognized the shape on the dais. He had seen those oleander bushes in his dream.

"What does that mean?" said Adrian. "What does any of that mean?"

If there was an answer, they wouldn't get to hear it. The room trembled with rage as Malik appeared in the doorway.

He brandished a long metal bat, but it looked heavy in his grip. He stood lopsided, panting with his whole body and bruised all over. His pants and his sleeves were in shreds. A despairing whine came from Adrian's throat.

"And there you are, you devil, you prize!"

Nicholas understood then that Dalisay had never really been attacking before. When the floor rushed at Malik this time, there was no getting away.

Empty armor drew its sword and nearly took Malik's head. Malik swung at the helmet and dented the eye slits; it fell away. But then there was a figurine stabbing at his ankles, and a winged carcass soaring at his head, and a bronze cougar snapping at his thighs, and he could only do so much. Adrian raised his hands to control the vines and blanched when he found he couldn't. They were under the witch's control. A marble bust slammed a wheeze from Malik's chest.

Adrian yelled. The door flew off its hinges as huge, sharp-tipped roots shot into the room from who-knew-how-far. They curled around Malik, snakelike and fiercely protective, swatting and spearing the assailants.

Nicholas lunged for the talisman. The vines shifted beneath his feet and he tripped painfully backward onto his tailbone. They were hurtling for Malik, winding tight around his shins and climbing higher. The other attacks went limp as Dalisay poured all of her magic into rapid mummification.

"Have you forgotten? We made a pact! I know all about pacts! Come, little Faisan, learn how it feels to be trapped."

Malik turned terrified eyes onto Adrian, betrayed.

As the vines climbed around his shoulders, one of the roots twisted around Malik's wrist and yanked, extending his arm far enough for Adrian's outstretched hand to wrap around the bat.

"Wait!" shouted Nicholas. The swarming vines raced over his hands and feet, dragging him down as he tried to stand, just shy of the dais.

The walls shrieked, "You swore! You swore, you swore!"

But Adrian's oath had not been bound by magic. He brought the bat down on the scale with all of his might, over and over until the corpses stopped twitching and the vines went listless. Adrian hauled Malik into an embrace. After a moment, Malik pressed quivering hands to Adrian's back. Dalisay died a second time, still too trusting, betrayed by mages until the very end.

"It is not your duty to mourn her," said Adrian when the dust had settled, joining Nicholas at the edge of the dais. "She was wicked. She was a monster."

"She was lonely."

Adrian hugged Nicholas against his side. Nicholas didn't understand how touch came so effortlessly for him, how he never shied away from the impulse. Nicholas dared to lean onto his shoulder. The world didn't shake, but he did, a little.

Malik sat before them. "This bag has been feeling a bit light," he said, looking pointedly at the book in Nicholas' hands.

"Ah, yeah. I had my own questions."

"You knew exactly how this would unfold." He didn't have the energy to sound angry about it. "Did you get your answers?"

"I ran out of time."

"I stole your chance," realized Adrian, rough with remorse.

"And you?" said Malik. Adrian recited Dalisay's final words. "Does she mean the flower, the charlatan's oleander- the one that poisoned the cattle?"

"It can't be," said Adrian.

"Too straightforward." Malik smiled wearily. "Spirits forbid anything comes easy."

"I think I understand," said Adrian, looking anything but relieved. "It seems my time has finally come to meet the king of Caldora." With a dark chuckle, he added, "Think you can introduce us?"

Before she was interrupted, Dalisay had told Nicholas that he was going to burn. And the image in the vines - the short glimpse he'd gotten - he was pretty sure he had seen a roaring, all-consuming flame. The thought of returning to Caldora, to Rayan and his fire, now every bit the enemy he'd suspected, sent Nicholas keeling forward to hold his face in his hands.

"Hey, now," Adrian nudged. "Only joking. You don't have to come."

"I said I'd stand by you."

"Oh," said Adrian on a sharp breath out. "You can do that from anywhere, darling. Don't risk your life for me." To Malik, he said, "And you...I suppose we will say goodbye here, too."

"Don't be an idiot. You won't even make it out of the frontier without my help."

Through exhausted eyes and a busted lip, Adrian beamed.

Nicholas had nowhere else to go, and his one lead was off in the ether. Adrian was the only comfort within reach, his only shot at help. He latched on. And, besides,

"You want to see the book, don't you?"

He opened it in his lap, turned it around for the others to read. They didn't look surprised, exactly, as they parsed the pages. They'd known what to expect - the only thing left was to believe it. Adrian's face slowly went slack, and Malik's turned frighteningly neutral.

The door opened. Adrian was on his feet in an instant, placing himself in front of Malik and Nicholas. Nicholas heard all of his breath leave him.

"What did you do to her?" said a new voice. Nicholas leaned just so to see past Adrian's knees. The girl in the doorway was one he knew - and one who did not belong in this part of the story. Tall, dark, and glittering gold stood the second heir to the Interran throne.