Syril awoke sometime later, drool pooling in his hand and a weightless feeling of disorientation pounding his head. He looked around; Rosie had fallen asleep leaning on the window, her light snoring muffled by the blanket she squeezed, and Ova stared resolutely ahead. The traffic around them had ground to a halt; the lateness of the night was no match for Anzora traffic.

"I fell asleep. Are we nearly there?" Syril asked drowsily.

"Yeah, getting anywhere in this city takes forever," Ova said, her voice soft.

"Yeah, usually I just walk," Syril replied through a stifled yawn, "are you ok?"

Ova looked through the rear-view mirror again, "I will be. Are you ok?"

He laughed; he couldn't help himself, "No, not really."

The car lurched forward as the traffic started moving. A comfortable silence fell on the pair.

"Why do you want to go to the library?"

"I have some stuff I need to work out." Syril rubbed his eyes, looking down at the watch, "hey, can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead; we're pretty much friends at this point." Ova giggled to herself. Syril was shocked to see her so well put together.

"Do you know much about the Oath Keepers?"

"Oath Keepers? No, I can't say I have." She turned the wheel and left the main highway, "why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's just something someone told me; they're pretty old apparently."

"Are you calling me old?" Ova said, placing her hand on her chest in mock exasperation.

"No, no, no!" Syril stuttered, not wanting to offend the only person to show him kindness, "I just thought I'd ask. I just didn't know if I had been living under a rock."

"It's ok!" She teased, "I'm eighty-one, Syril. I know I'm old."

Syril whistled, "you don't look a day over forty."

Ova chuckled, "you're a gentleman, Syril," pausing for a second to reach around and pat him on the knee, "especially when you're not breaking down my door."

"I am sorry…."

"Don't be, and I can see why you did it. I would have done the same at your age."

They rounded another corner, the massive library now cresting at the top of the hill. It was a remarkable building Syril had only previously walked past; it stood five stories tall, its marble pillars glistening in the light of the full moon. He hoped it would be the first natural step on his journey out of this mess.

They pulled into the partially filled parking lot, and Syril longed to remain in the car.

Ova turned around to face him, her kind eyes looking into his own and concern etched into her face; "Give me your number Syril."

"Oh, right for the door." Syril fished out Greg's phone and turned it on, searching for its number.

"No, you idiot, so I can make sure you're alright," she looked at Rosie, her ancient brow furrowing more, "you're a good person Syril; you deserve someone on your side."

Syril did not reply; it was all he could do to keep back the ocean full of tears. His heart was heavy as he stepped out of the car; Ova waved him goodbye as she drove off, and he felt the notch grow more prominent in his chest.

He took a moment to steady himself; his journey was just beginning.

Syril faced the library, its towering façade a reminder of what needed to be done. He walked up the stairs, his feeling of determination only growing more potent as he climbed. The glass doors slid open for his arrival, a pleasantly comfortable heat radiating through them as he walked in.

The interior was more majestic than its public-facing fascia; it was tiled in a patterned white stone, various notice boards had been pushed against marble pillars, and the stairs and elevators extended into unexplored corners of the building.

A small cafe sporting a 'Closed' sign stood in the corner of the lobby, the fresh coffee's aroma still lingering. An older orcish lady with pony-tailed brown hair and small white tusks stared at Syril from the reception, gesturing for him to approach.

The tiled floor echoed as he nervously strode across it. The librarian looked at him expectantly, and he stared back down at her. It was awkward seconds before he realised she was waiting for him to say something.

"Um, I'm looking…." What was he looking for? What was he hoping to find here? He wasn't even sure why he wanted to go to the library. It just seemed like the next logical step to finding information.

"Yes?" She asked, peering at him over her tiny round spectacles,

"I guess I'm looking for any information about the Oath Keepers..." why was he so nervous?

"History and Mythology on floor three, Hun," she gestured to an elevator on the far right of the building, "take that elevator to level three, then make a right, and you should see it."

"Oh, thanks," he had not expected it to be entirely that easy.

He walked away feeling slightly more upbeat and, dare he say, a little proud of himself. The elevator opened as he approached, its metallic doors gently closing behind him. The mechanical runes that powered it briefly glowed blue as a series of numbers appeared on the side panel of the door. He pushed the button labelled '3' and felt the elevator lurch under him before slowly climbing its chute. He looked into the mirror on the side of the elevator, seeing himself for the first time since that morning.

My gods, he looked like hell.

Sweat and blood was mattered to his blonde hair, his face dirty and red from exhaustion. But his clothes looked the worst; the sleeve of his jacket and trousers were covered in blood, dirt and sweat, his white button-up now greyer than he'd ever seen it.

He took his jacket off, folding the sleeve before tying it around his waist, hiding most of the blood on his trousers. It would have to do for now until he could get a change of clothes and a shower.

The elevator opened to an inconceivably large room; lined with bookshelves for as far as the eye could see. Despite the other two floors above them, the roof appeared to have a skylight, the sun's rays beaming down into the room and shrouding it in a warm summer glow. Syril checked the watch, confirming it was still dark outside despite what the skylight dictated.

That was pretty cool.

The room's walls were decorated with various paintings and stained glass; at the very back of the room, a prominent notch had been erected for study. Many large empty mahogany desks sat side by side, their chairs a welcome sight to Syril's sore legs. He stepped off the elevator, the temperature attuning to his comfort; he felt both at ease and motivated.

He walked the seemingly endless halls of shelves; how would he find anything in this haystack? He couldn't even see how the shelves were sorted. All the books were seemingly thrown randomly, with no regard for Author, Genre, or Name. He pulled a copy of 'a history of runic gears' from the shelves, scanning its spine for any sign of how it was organised.

Nothing.

Crestfallen, he left the forest of shelves, instead setting up camp on a small wooden desk in the study notch. He flopped down, laying his head on the table and sighing in exasperation. This was going to take a long time.

"Can I help you?"

Syril looked up from his den of misery into the eyes of a young straight-haired girl. Her skin glowed a deep golden brown that seemingly radiated from a fresh sunburn. She was dressed in blue jeans, with a small white crop top and a leather jacket tied around her waist. On her shirt was a staff ID, Syril tried to read her name, but the writing was too small. She scrunched her nose in query towards Syril, her gleaming brown eyes partially obscured behind small red spectacles staring imposingly down at him.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Syril asked innocently,

"Can. I. Help. You." She said sarcastically, being sure to emphasise each word separately.

Syril blushed, "I'm… um, looking for information on Oath Keepers."

"Why?" the girl asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Why am I looking for…?"

She stared at him like he was an idiot. He felt like one.

"Oh… the Oath Keepers right," he wanted to die, "it's for an assignment."

"An assignment on the Oath Keepers?"

"That's what I said."

"At three in the morning?"

"I just really like homework."

He looked up into her piercing brown eyes. She was puzzling something over in her head; Syril could see the internal debate brewing inside her. Finally, she pulled the chair in front of him, took a seat and placed her hands on the desk. Syril must have looked confused because she sighed and grabbed his hands.

"The library responds to your requests. Try asking it."

"You mean just say it? Out loud?" He asked, still confused about why she was holding his hands.

"Yep."

"Can you show me?" he asked, slightly bewildered and unsure if he was being pranked.

"You're a big boy. You can do it." She said, a little too condescending.

At this point, he was sure this was a prank, but he had nothing else to lose, so he looked up into the sky and screamed, "Please give me information on the Oath Keepers!"

The girl dropped her onto the desk, exhaling in frustration.

"I never said scream it."

Syril blushed; This had to be some weird joke, "I just assumed…."

"Just say it quietly this time."

He nodded, his face still red from embarrassment. This time he spoke with barely more than a whisper,

"Can I please have some information on the Oath Keepers?" pausing for a second before adding, "please." For good measure.

Both he and the girl looked around the library. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but whatever it was, it wasn't happening. Almost disappointed, he looked at her,

"I guess it…."

A rumbling echoing through the shelves silenced him. It grew in strength and tenacity, like an earthquake moving with alarming speed towards him. He looked in the direction of the sound, unsure what was happening.

Then a leather-bound book flew towards him. He caught it and placed into on the table.

Then a second.

Then a third.

Then dozens more books sailed towards him at record-breaking speeds; Syril fell out of his chair trying to dodge the onslaught. The many books he missed left large red welts on his body, some narrowly missing his face.

The girl stared wide-eyed, watching as Syril ducked and weaved what books he could avoid.

When the last book collided with him, Syril fell to the ground. Welts covering his now broken and defeated body. He groaned from the floor, the pile of books scattered amongst him like a dragon's horde.

"Talk about cramming." He joked, craning his neck up at the girl's now empty seat. He looked around, confused, but he needn't look far because she appeared again, this time towering over his beaten body.

"A little help?" he joked, extending his hand.

Instead, she knelt, staring at him once more.

"So you are one of us then." She said, her eyes softening as she placed a hand on his chest, "Sleep now, Syril."

"How do you…."

But his sentence was cut short as a warm radiating heat melted through him. His eyes drooped, and his mind fogged. Everything was going to be ok. He felt the pleasure of welcome and lost sleep wash through his body as his vision filled with longed-for darkness.

"We'll see you soon, Syril."