Page 55 of The Nymph King

If anything about the Drasil had survived in writing, she expected to find it here. And now that Ellisar knew both she and Tanyl possessed a Drasil, pretending otherwise offered no protection. It only limited her arsenal.

The librarian’s face paled as she recognized the request’s seriousness. With a curt nod, she turned and guided Imani deeper into the stacks. They passed long reading tables scarred by generations of ink stains and wand burns, then entered narrower aisles where the shelves loomed close enough to brush Imani’s shoulders. Small brass plaques marked entire sections devoted to wand woods, magical inheritance, Fabric manifestations, and the recorded histories of wandlore witches.

Lanterns grew fewer, the light dimmed, and the air thickened with the scents of old leather and dust. Several volumes hung loosely from the shelves, while others sat in shallow wooden cases with handwritten catalog cards tucked beneath their clasps.

Imani stood waiting as the librarian shuffled about the room, selecting several heavy, ancient texts. When she handed them over, their weight was dense with years of disuse, blurring the line between documented history and myth.

“These are the oldest records we have on wandlore’s origins,” the woman said, placing the volumes into Imani’s arms with care.

Imani turned to leave, but the librarian’s hand closed around her arm. The grip wasn’t harsh, but it was firm enough to stop her. The quiet of the space suddenly shifted, charged with intent. Imani didn’t panic. She simply focused, noting the steadiness behind the woman’s hold.

Shifting her grip, the librarian reached into the fold of her sleeve. Her nostrils flared as she pressed a small, folded piece of paper into Imani’s palm.

“I’ve been waiting for this opportunity,” the Norn woman breathed. “Since I heard the true queen was here… and that it was Imani Aowyn.”

The paper was light, unremarkable, but it burned with expectation.

“It’s a trust spell,” the librarian explained, finally releasing Imani’s arm. “Not a binding, not a means of control. Nothing that forces truth or obedience. I am a divination witch; I don’t change who people are. I only see. This will help you do the same.” She placed her hand over Imani’s and squeezed. “It will help you see who you can trust most in this world. It isn’t perfect, and it requires effort—you must choose when to use it and on whom. What you do with what it shows you… that remains yours.”

Imani pulled her hand back and curled it around the paper as she thought of Ellisar, with his careful manipulations, and of Tanyl moving pieces from the shadows. Kiran, relentless and impossible to predict, came to mind next. None of them operated in absolute truth, and that was where the real danger lay. Power could be challenged or taken. But trust was the risk that decided everything.

“Why give this to me?” Imani asked, her tone even but edged with scrutiny.

“Because you’re going to be asked to decide more than anyone should,” the librarian said simply. “And you won’t always get the truths to help inform those choices. This will help.”

Gathering up the books and pressing them to her chest with one hand, Imani left the library without another word. The folded spell burned in her other palm. The corridors felt the same—quiet, ordered—but her internal landscape was loud. What had the librarian given her? She was frantic to find out.

As she walked, more of the game pieces locked into place. The Drasil was a position on an axis she was only beginning to grasp. Ellisar, Tanyl, and Kiran all pulled at that same center, trying to bend the realm’s power to their favor.

When she reached her room and the door clicked shut, sealing her in a space that felt less like a retreat and more like a war room, she set the books down one by one, letting their heavy thuds anchor the moment.

Despite the painful clench in her stomach, she ignored the books and studied the folded paper, turning it slowly between her fingers. It was knowledge in one form, possibility in another. She smoothed the paper flat against the table, her gaze tracking the intricate markings with cold precision.

It was a spell, and one she wasn’t going to save for a desperate moment.

Imani took out her wand.

CHAPTER 16

Only one place to start, she thought, with her wand secure in her hand and the spell laid out on the table.

She traced the instructions once, then again, committing the order to memory. First, she had to name the question she wanted the magic to answer. Then she chose no specific person; she held the people she was weighing in her mind and let the divination decide which connection mattered most. The final step required her to speak the incantation while pressing the tip of her wand to the center sigil and fixing her intent on the question.

Who can I trust?

Ellisar. Tanyl. Kiran.

Each name carried a distinct risk, a different truth waiting. Who would she find in the vision?

Imani repeated the sequence silently until she could perform it without looking at the page. She lifted her wand, touched the carved tip to the inked sigil, and began the incantation. With each repetition, she held the three names in her mind while forcing the question beneath them.

The magic took hold like a whip to her back, making her gasp. The room wobbled instead of disappearing entirely. Its edges blurred as another dimension seeped in, overlaying the current space. Light distorted, and sounds both muted and intensified at once, creating the sensation of two realities vying for the same breath. She was compelled to view through a shaky, unfamiliar lens instead of passing smoothly through the doorway.

There was no clear boundary, only a bleeding overlap where neither world fully gave way.

The magic concentrated on her intent, homing in on the most crucial question.

Who can I trust?