99- It’s All Just a Game in a Luxury Prison

Quayleigh wasn't much for off-the-cuff decision making. She much preferred it when she had time to weigh her options and make plans, to assess the risks and come up with solutions, but as she closed up 'Tanbir' she set it to the side of the table, face down, she wasn't able to focus her mind and think clear. The warning, or rather the implications of it, began to weigh on her. Everything she did was potentially being scrutinized, every hesitation, every book she looked at, the words she spoke, how often she wrote, how quick she read, what she struggled on, and for what purpose? What reason would they watch her to the extent that Phaedra had felt it necessary to warn her, and to go to the length of coding it?

Trying to seem calm, she lifted her hand to her mouth and purposely shook her shoulders to make it look as if she was giggling over what she had just read, while running her other hand over the cover of Tanbir. More than anything, she needed time to think, thus, she picked up the previous book and returned it to the stand.

There was no reason for anyone to be suspicious of her reading over the book that Riannoske had set in place for her, and it should have been pretty obvious that she was struggling with even the fundamentals of reading the language between the dictionary and her slow pace. Referencing her notes, she began to skim through the pages of the book, in hopes of calming her mind and her racing pulse.

By the end of the hour, Quayleigh closed the book, knowing full well that there was nothing of value to be found within its pages, regardless of the invaluable gift of time it had just granted her. With great care, she set the book into the return cart, along with the other books her and Riannoske had picked out the previous day. If nothing else, the time to think, had given her clarity regarding the position she was in and wasting time on books for already debunked theories wasn't going to gain her anything.

Returning to her stool, she leaned on the table and lifted her eyepatch, pressing her fingers around the socket, feigning discomfort. She knew there was a risk to what she was doing, but she had made her decisions; now she was acting on them. Using her hand as a shield, she glanced between her fingers or out from beneath her palm, taking a lengthy look at the bookshelf before her, as she meticulously massaged around her eye.

Most of the books appeared to be typical books; covers and spines as ordinary as any book on any shelf but hidden amongst those ordinary tomes were a few gems of interest. Faint auras radiated from the pages and strange symbols had revealed themselves upon their spines.

Making mental notes of their locations, she leaned over and rubbed a bit more at her temple before sliding her eyepatch back into place, hoping she had given the cameras a believable enough show as to not arouse the watcher's suspicions.

Moving with purpose, she turned to her notes and wrote out a few more things. While mostly random bits of nothing, she deemed this act necessary to maintain the façade of ignorance and dutiful study. Setting down the writing implement, she returned to the shelves and began to read down the spines, focusing on many, instead of only the ones she had taken note of. And in this action, in the attempt to appear random, she found herself struck by the seemingly equal distance between the noteworthy magic books, with the exception of the Miéa Gorhän'dahl, which was within three books of one of the others, breaking the pattern of the apparent, purposeful placement of the others.

'No wonder Cole wants to get his hands on it,' she thought to herself. 'Clearly, they've no idea about its contents. Unless this is a trap? Or a test? It's probably a trap. There is no way the placement on these is just a coincidence. It's obviously been rearranged. Even the sections I walked through with Riannoske were arranged in an alpha-numerical system, but this section is all over the place. There is no fucking way Phaedra would have allowed this to happen in his library. He's way too pretentious for such an obvious oversight. Although, that could explain the inability to be completely random if he were the one responsible, but then why warn me? If this was even what he was warning me about. Either way this was deliberate. No idea what they're hoping to find out about me, but I'm out of options. I can't waste any more time and aside from the Miéa, and the magically infused, the rest of these are just a gigantic waste of it.'

Clutching at the side of her head, she frustratingly began the should I, shouldn't I, internal debate of the situation as she continued to move across the shelf, occasionally sliding out a book, before reading the cover and putting it back. The reality was, she had no real idea of what she was doing there. From the polices standpoint, she was the longshot in their desperate search for answers, answers she had, but answers she couldn't back up without telling the truth and the truth was far more dangerous; the consequences devastating. And there was absolutely nothing on these shelves that was going to change that. She had willingly walked into a bear's den and had hoped the bear wasn't hungry, that the offering to gain her entry had been enough to satiate it, but she was now aware that she couldn't have been more wrong. She had let the ease of the previous day cloud her judgement, and wishful thinking blind her to the truth. This place was a luxury prison, and she had no idea if she was still just a visitor. Furthermore, Uroxuz still hadn't returned, and this was not filling her with any amount of confidence.

Staring at the spine of the book before her on the shelf, Quayleigh reached up and set her hand upon it. As she pulled it from its place, she had made her choice, and it no longer mattered if this was a test or a trap, in the end, it was all just a game; a game for which she didn't yet know the rules.

Carrying the book to her table, she carefully set it onto the stand. She knew this very action, so simple and unassuming, could bring about the ruin of the MET, but there was a satisfaction in knowing that it would be their decisions that would lead to it.

At first glance, and to anyone without a special eye, the book was nothing impressive; leather cover with a handstitched spine, the 'Hvureer'naf' sigil embossed on its face, runes reading 'The sigil of the forgotten' down its spine. Quayleigh knew the sigil, only by name, and had never used it, given that even altered versions, which were occasionally found in older rituals, were normally replaced by more accurate and modern sigil work.

Opening the cover, the pages were of a thicker form of vellum than she had been expecting to find, and the edges were coated in what could be misidentified as brown paint, which caused her to grimace and drop her shoulders.

"Of course, I grabbed the book with the blood-based gilding," she complained under her breath, hoping to illicit a reaction from her silent and unseen companion, and when there was none, she knew herself to still be alone.

Page by page, she examined the information in a slow, skimming manner, finding the spacing and imagery to be unusual. Entire pages were nearly blank at some points, and although they could be mistaken for chapter breaks, a quick glance from under the edge of her eyepatch revealed them for what they truly were; hidden instructions, variations of the sigil, and the rituals in which they were to be used.

By the halfway point, Quayleigh found no reason to continue reading from the pages. She had already gained more than she had been hoping for, even if it had nothing to offer in regards to her current problems. And as fascinating as it was to learn three of the seven rituals contained in the book that were based around the Hvureer'naf sigil, as well as reading the in-depth study of the sigil itself, the truth was, without being able to read the hidden bits, nothing in the book was capable of functioning. Entire sections of rituals, and lists of components were completely missing in most cases, and even the embossed sigil on the cover was missing a key semi-circle to give it the necessary inflection on the pronunciation, not that it truly mattered as the sigil alone was completely useless, presenting no active function. However, when used correctly, Quayleigh now knew three slightly different methods for removing the life from the living.

"I'm not certain that is a book anyone should waste their time on," Riannoske commented as she closed the cover at his approach.

"I completely agree, although it was amusing to glance over. Have you taken the time to read it?"

"No. I haven't read anything in this section. I was given a brief overview to study though. Phaedra felt that I would be more helpful if I was familiar with the contents. That book was listed as a nonfunctioning, outdated text on sigil work."

"Accurate description, although you should add comical waste of components for those ignorant and foolish enough to try. Sometimes it's good to read nonsense though; gets you out of your head."

"I take it that you're finding your work frustrating?" he asked as she placed the book onto the return cart.

Quayleigh nodded. "Yeah, but it's not like I didn't see it coming. I'm not a practitioner and it's been years since I had any real instruction on even the most rudimentary level of magic. All any of this is doing is showing me how far out of my depth I am."

"Then why did you agree to come here?"

Quayleigh turned and looked at Riannoske, her heart aching as she spoke. "Sometimes you're only given the appearance of a choice, but there really isn't much of a choice to be made. I agreed because refusing was harder to do. Something is killing people out there and the cops want answers. Unable to get them by themselves, they dragged me into this offering me the illusion of being able to refuse, followed by a promise that they will never keep if I don't give them something to work with. And that is why I'm hoping that you being here means that it's break time?"

"Indeed, it is."

"Wonderful. Any chance Phaedra's got a few minutes to spare?" she asked picking up 'Tanbir' from the table.

"I'm certain he will make the time," he replied with a nod and a motion for her to follow.

Quayleigh attempted to maintain a casual pace as they walked towards Phaedra's office and even Riannoske seemed to be restraining himself, tearing off his gloves and mask the moment they entered the room.

At their arrival, Phaedra stood from his desk, but before Quayleigh could step forward, Riannoske had managed to block her path.

"Slow and steady," he whispered as he took the gloves and mask from her hands, causing a shiver of concern to race up her spine.

She had hoped Phaedra's office would have been a safe space in which to speak, but now she was positive that the opposite was true, something she found to be profoundly saddening. Not because she couldn't speak freely, but because even Phaedra, the MET's own archivist, had no space to call his own.

"I do hope we aren't interrupting," she commented with bow of respect towards him. "We were about to go on break, and I wanted to return this and thank you for it. It was an illuminating take on yesterday's conversation." Stepping in the direction of the couch, she held the book out towards him. "I deeply appreciate your insight, Phaedra."

"I was uncertain if you would pick up on its meaning," he responded as he looked towards Riannoske. "Have tea sent down for us."

Riannoske nodded and left the room as they stood face to face before the couch with a book between them.

"The meaning was fairly easy to comprehend. I found the bold take to be quite intriguing," she replied, releasing the book into his hands. "It's really good to see you again. I missed the chance to say goodbye to you yesterday."

"I am terribly sorry about that," he apologized as the set the book, face down, on the coffee table.

"Pitiful words, brother, and entirely meaningless. I demand that you make it up to me."

Phaedra twitched, his shoulders shifting askew as he cocked his brow, narrowing his eyes at her, his voice caring a questioning tone.

"And how am I to accomplish such a feat? Exactly?"

"No need to be so worried. I only wanted a hug," she stated with a dramatic roll of her eyes as she held her arms open to him.

"Oh, in that case, I'll oblige," he replied, awkwardly stepping forward as if this was the most unnatural thing he had ever done in his life.

"You are seriously bad at this," she remarked with a huff as she grabbed and wrapped her arms him.

He was surprisingly well built for a man who didn't appear to get out much, and his stature was impressive considering that her head barely reached his shoulder which forced him to lean down in order to hug her back.

"They can hear us," he whispered in her ear, taking full advantage of the situation.

"Figured. Is my room safe?"

"Far as I know."

"Real talk later," she concluded with a few stiff pats on his back.

"That's going to take some getting used to," he admitted, taking a step back, his cheeks blushed as he looked away from her.

"But you will get used to it. You're going to get a lot of practice as I will require at least two a day. One when we first greet each other, and the second when we say goodnight."

"You know, I don't remember your father being quite so demanding of affection," he remarked, motioning for her to take a seat.

"That's because he was better at giving it than requiring it," she replied as they sat down together.

Reaching up, Quayleigh set her hand on top of Phaedra's head giving him a subtle push. Retracting her hand, she watched as he scrunched his face and grasped at his chest before exhaling and allowing his shoulders to drop away.

"I had nearly forgotten what that felt like," he said, mimicking the soft smile she had been wearing.

"I don't remember what it was like to be hugged by him, but I hope I never forget the weight of his hand on my head."

"Likewise," he replied just as Riannoske returned to the office.

"The tea is being sent down," he stated, before walking over to the small table in front of the dumbwaiter.

"I hope you don't mind ginger. I find it helps to clear the head," Phaedra remarked while adjusting himself into a more comfortable position.

"Like it or not, I could certainly use it," she replied, following suit.

"Having difficulties?"

"Let's just say, I needed the break."

"You don't strike me as the kind of woman who gets easily frustrated," Phaedra responded casting her a look of curiosity. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

She thought for a moment, wanting to make sure that nothing she said would matter to whoever was listening, taking the opportunity that Riannoske had provided by serving the tea.

"There actually is something you can do, and no worries, it's nothing as drastic as a second hug this early in the day."

"That's a relief," he muttered before taking a sip of his tea.

"Har, har, the archivist has a sense of humor," she remarked with a shake of her head. "But, I wonder, can you also be honest?"

"I see no reason to lie to you, if that's what you're asking."

"Let's put that to the test," she said before wetting her mouth on the warm spicy brew. "I'm not going to find any real answers in these books, am I?"

"Based on the information I have, it is unlikely."

Quayleigh was thoroughly surprised by his response. She had been expecting him to hesitate, to show signs of deception, but she didn't need Uroxuz with her to know that he was speaking truth.

"While we have never had a reason to research such a phenomenon as this before," he continued as she enjoyed her tea, "I am confident in the knowledge I have of what is contained within this archive, and that is why I recommended the books to you that I did, and why I had Riannoske pull the scrolls on the Wuk'chikad. Of all the creatures written about in this collection, that is the one that comes closest to fitting the description of what I've been given. Sadly, I have a feeling that the police didn't tell us everything, and I knew that unless I allowed someone in to examine the books for themselves, they weren't going to accept whatever explanation I gave to them."

"But you don't think this is a Wuk'chikad?"

"No," he stated bluntly. "I find the very concept to be highly unlikely. The civilization responsible for that ritual died out centuries ago, and those scrolls are the only known surviving texts from a temple that was sealed for just as many centuries. The likelihood of a trained practitioner, let alone an apostate, discovering this forgotten form of magic or managing to come up with it all on their own, I find preposterous, borderline impossible. That being said, I can't entirely rule it out either." Sitting up, he placed his cup onto the table and turn towards her. "Quayleigh, I know this type of research can be trying, especially when you have no real direction to go in, and no idea in which book to look for answers…"

"It's not just that," she interrupted, instantly despising the ease at which she found herself comfortable enough to confide in him. "If I'm being honest with you, I shouldn't be here. I can't read the bulk of what's out there, and everything else I'm so poorly educated in, I can't read fast enough to make it worthwhile. As it is, I'm skimming through pages hoping to catch words I recognize only to find that a single word means nothing if I can't read anything around it. I was under the impression, the belief, that I could come in here and do what was ordered of me. I knew it would be difficult, a struggle perhaps. I mean, I'm not completely delusional. What education I do have is basic at best, but I've been studying and reading magic for years, and I thought that would count for something. Turns out, I really am just a convenience store clerk with one eye and a pathetically bad understanding of the bulk of magic language. It's frustrating to be reminded of what I missed out on. Had different choices been made, I could have been a student here. Who knows, I may have been working under you this entire time, being called 'Little sister' and enjoying a steady diet of overprotective big brother hugs."

"Please, to spare each of us our dignity, I would only call you 'Sister.' As for the rest, simply do your best. You don't owe the police anything. In the end, you can only tell them what you know and like it or not, that may end up being nothing at all, or something entirely inaccurate. For now, you are here, under contract, to study the books we have to the best of your capability. If that means getting some assistance then Riannoske is the best asset you have at your disposal, and as your liaison I am required to speak to you when you have questions."

"And as my brother, you should feel obligated to stop by and check on me occasionally, as well as ensure you say goodnight to me every day before I leave."

"I will work on that."

"Riannoske, could you please be a dear and schedule a few minutes every day for him to have time to do all of that for me."

"I will see to it," Riannoske replied with a smirk.

The three continued to speak casually, managing to finish their tea as their break came to an end, but as Riannoske and Quayleigh returned to their work area, the unease she had felt before her conversation with Phaedra began to bubble to the surface once again. For while she had managed to talk to Phaedra, she had discovered little over the course of their conversation, learning only that he knew what she had already assumed; no one had ever seen the likes of Uroxuz, and managed to write a book about it.