Window to the Past

by Multikirby

A story in the Multikirby Trilogy! Written, obviously, by Multikirby! A child with a problem wakes up as a puffball with complete and utter amnesia. It sounds boring and cliche, but it's better than it sounds, I promise. Conflict! Action! Longer chapters than the other two! Mockery! Irony! Lists! Quarters only! This is a Multikirby production.

25. Linden's Lantern

...So. Anyone figure out where 'here' is? Because if you have, I'm scared. You aren't supposed to find out where 'here' is nor are you supposed to be able to get 'here'. These quotation marks are annoying. Or are they called apostrophes when there's only one of them? I'm stalling.

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Window to the Past

Chapter 25: Linden's Lantern

"Inter-dimensional?" Alice asked. "You think we're from another dimension? Isn't that going a bit too far?

"I'll explain," Fey told her. "You've been traveling around here. You've been to Wayford, right?"

Alice nodded.

"Okay, so you know that there are more than one intelligent species on this planet. Ya know, Waddle Dees, Waddle Doos, humans, puffballs, Bonkers, Scarfies..."

"I don't know what most of those are, but...I think I know what you're talking about, yeah."

"I want you to think back to where we came from," Fey said, a smile coming to her face. "How many intelligent species are there?"

Alice squinted her eyes shut and tried to think. "Humans. I know them. So there's humans, there's...um...dogs?"

"Dogs aren't intelligent."

"Our neighbour had one and it was pretty smart."

"Not the intelligent I'm thinking of."

"Um...no." Alice's eyes opened, and she looked at Fey in confusion. "No other intelligent species."

"Exactly my point. Even on this planet, wherever it is, there is not one place here that doesn't have more than one. But Earth-"

Something occurred to Alice, and she interrupted. "Hold on a second. What if we're in the same dimension, but Earth is just another planet in it? We wouldn't need to cross dimensions then."

Fey frowned. "Huh. Hadn't thought of that."

"Not possible," a voice came from behind them, making them both jump. They turned around and saw Linden. "If Acoa and Earth are in the same dimension, how could you two have gotten here, hm? However, if they are from different dimensions...you could simply jump from one to another. Perhaps Earth is simply an alternate version of Acoa."

"How long have you been standing there?" Fey asked shakily as she got up from the chair.

Linden smiled good-naturedly. "Not too long," he said softly as he pulled his headgear tighter over himself. "Though it doesn't really matter how long I've been here, does it, Ms. Choreman?"

"With that thing, I guess not," Fey said, a small smile returning to her face as she sat back down.

Alice, however, took that statement a lot differently. Because she knew neither of them had told Linden their last name.

"That is, of course, assuming that alternate dimensions exist and you two are not completely and utterly insane."

Fey froze. "What?"

Linden did not respond. Instead, he calmly walked to the front door of the library and locked it with a distinct click.

"Linden, why did you lock the door?" Fey asked as she slowly got up from the chair, feeling more and more unsafe.

Again, Linden ignored her. "The city, the one you were talking about, is Arcon's Yell," he explained as he made his way back to the siblings who were growing more and more concerned. He smiled. "Strange name, yes. But you're right. That city is quite rich in the mysterious."

Linden stepped between the two of them and looked at the atlas, his headgear shining an eerie red beam to accompany the strange dancing halos the lanterns granted. The dim library was illuminated by the scattering shadows cast by the few sources of light. Without opening the atlas, he smiled at the two. "Inter-dimensional, ah? You madams are interested in inter-dimensional affairs? Interesting..."

He then walked over to the non-fiction shelf and pulled out another book. He set it down on the table and immediately opened it. "Ah, here we are. The theory of alternate dimensions is still under debate. If you two are right, you are living proof that other dimensions exist. If you aren't..."

He closed the book with a loud clap. "You two are insane. And I can't have that."

Alice was backing towards the door. "We aren't insane."

Linden put the book back on the shelf and turned to face them. "Well, you're certainly entitled to think that, Madam, just as I am entitled to think you are. And you, Miss Fey, believe me to be insane, do you not?"

"Uh...what makes you think I think you're insane?"

Linden adjusted his headgear. "'...he can't control it. With the Copy Ability engaged, he receives a nonstop onslaught of information from absolutely everything around him.'"

"Ah!" Fey clutched her head, staring at him. "What are you doing?!"

"'This, coupled with the Copy's side effect...'"

"Stop it!"

"'His brain isn't big enough to hold all that information. Stay away from him.' I could go on, but I believe I've made my point. And now you, Miss Alice, faced with this information, taking into account the locked door, and influenced by the rather foreboding darkness of the library and illumination from my headgear and the candles, are thinking the same thing as Fey. Though I suppose now you're Tristan, sir. I should address you by your name, should I not?"

Tristan narrowed his eyes. "Fey. Fill me in."

"The door's locked and he's calling us insane for believing in inter-dimensional travel."

"You're leaving out quite a bit, Miss Fey," Linden said softly, drawing closer. "Though from your point of view that's all Tristan needs to know."

"So you think we're insane, and we think you're insane?" Tristan said slowly. "Is that what we're looking at?"

"It seems so. And I have to agree with you; logic dictates that one of us is wrong and one of us is right. Either you're insane or I am." Linden walked around a table and pulled up a chair. He sat in it and gestured to the other side of the table, motioning for the two of them to sit as well.

"I'll stand, thanks," Tristan told him as Fey took a seat across from Linden. The only thing separating the two of them was the soft orange glow from a lantern.

Fey was obviously uncomfortable. "Aren't these lanterns a bit of a fire hazard?" she asked uneasily, running her stub up and down the wooden table to distract herself from how afraid she was getting.

"Miss Fey. If Tristan will indulge me, I will prove my innocence of psychosis and have you convict him of the same disorder. Unlike you, Miss Fey, I can see all of the layers of his thoughts. I can see how they mesh together, how they clash-"

"Stop," Tristan seethed.

Linden looked up with a genuine smile. "You misunderstand me, Tristan, sir. When I say you will indulge me...you will indulge me."

Tristan's eyes narrowed further. He did not trust Linden. Heck, he didn't trust Fey. But he wanted to see how this turned out. He was curious. "...Fine. Go ahead and try."

"Miss Fey," Linden continued. "You believe me to be mad because of what Miss Elizabeth told you, correct?"

Fey nodded.

"Let me give you some perspective. Excuse me for a moment." A wooden scrape destroyed the quiet that had fallen over the library as Linden got up from his seat and dissipated into the darkness. He came back and gently set the atlas of Corfort on the table, the reflective glint from his headgear blinding Tristan momentarily. "How much of this book do I understand by looking at it, Miss Fey? Guess."

"...Um...all of it's contents?" she said uncertainly.

Linden's unnerving smile widened. "Oh, you're barely scratching the surface, dearie. What you believe to be the extent of the Copy Ability, in reality, is mere child's play. Open the book to page one hundred seventy-nine and search for the word with a small stain of wine in the middle of it." As Fey carried out these instructions, Linden continued. "This book, as you have probably noticed, is no ordinary book. This is one of only three copies existing on Acoa. Do you know why? Tristan, sir. Guess," he said with a smile.

"It's handwritten," Tristan responded gruffly. "I don't even have to open the cover to see that."

"Yes, sir. You are correct, sir. Do you know what this means?"

Tristan was silent for a while. As he thought, he kept a close eye on the puffball on the other side of the somber table. His expression was unmoving, almost frozen in the polite smile he had on now. Those eyes seemed to bore into him, judging his thought processes. And the bugger knew, didn't he? He knew exactly what Tristan was thinking! All because of that device on his head!

"I'm going to stop you right there, Tristan, sir," Linden interrupted his thought process. "Though I admit this piece of work I'm wearing is quite...a piece of work, it is all but decorative now..." He took the headgear off and gently swept the table clear of dust before setting the machine on the table. He gazed at it lovingly before looking back up at Tristan. "Now...continue."

"He's bluffing. He can't actually- Oh my God," Linden repeated with a smile as he watchedTristan's expression transform from one of doubt to one of horror. "The bugger! How the hell's he doing that?! He's got to be- SHUT UP ALREADY! My, my, Tristan, sir...such language. Such anger."

"Shut up," he fumed. "My thoughts are my business."

Linden's smile widened. "Ah, Tristan, sir...I beg to differ. Nothing is simply your business anymore. It's our business."

"I'll kill you."

Linden shook his head. "No, you won't. But...back to business. Why is the fact that this was handwritten so important? An author wrote each and every one of these words. With his hand."

"Hand?" Fey asked. "How do you know it was a hand? Most of the intelligent species here have stubs. What makes you think it was a hand?"

"Oh, I know much more than that, Miss Fey." Linden's grin did not falter, though the lantern's light did. As the illumination dwindled, his smile seemed to stretch vertically, the shadows expanding past his face, making him seem quite a bit more sinister. "Let me tell you what I know. I know that this was written by a team of five authors, three men, two women. Both of the women were native to Corfort and all five were humans. This particular passage was written by a man who had been having marital problems for the past two and a half weeks. This had been weighing on his mind so he had forgotten to eat dinner. He decided to eat and write at the same time since he had a deadline to meet. This man usually prefers milk or water with his dinner, but once again, his marital problems were weighing him down, hence, wine. As he wrote, he began to drink more and more fervently until he became drunk. His hampered reaction time was the cause of this spot of wine over the word 'hiking'."

"Y-you knew all that?"

"Again, Miss Fey...scratching the surface. Child's play. That was simply a demonstration. If we had the time, I could tell you the diets and mental disorders, known and unknown, of all five of the authors of this book and their extended families. I could tell you each and every thought going through their mind as they dipped their quills in the ink before writing in this atlas. I could tell you which one of them died during the writing of this book, and which one was the killer. And I could tell you why, where, and with what. I could tell you the exact molecular structure of each and every letter in each and every word in each and every page. Where do I work, Miss Fey?"

The question obviously caught her off guard. "Um...the library."

"Yes. The library." Linden leaned forward on the table, waiting for Fey to connect the dots.

"Oh my God. The books- STOP IT! Ah, I apologize, Tristan," Linden grinned sheepishly. "As you may know, I don't have much control over this intake of information. I'll try to keep my, err, siphoning, for lack of a better word...discreet. But as you have realized, yes. Books." He looked around the library wistfully. "There are quite a lot of them, aren't there? Now, Miss Fey. Do you remember how much I was able to tell you of the authors of this atlas?"

"...Yes."

"Imagine that amount of knowledge and multiply it roughly by the amount of books in this library. Again, that's scratching the surface, Miss Fey, but you're getting warmer."

Tristan shook his head. "These aren't handwritten. You can't decipher anything from them. A lot of them are done by printing press or electronically."

"Does that matter?" Linden turned to him. "And now...for the interesting part. You."

"What do you mean?" Tristan asked. He wanted to sit down, but his sense told him to stay standing.

"Oh, well, from a standpoint of understanding everything, you are the most interesting person in this room...barring me, of course. Fey, you already know Mister Matthew's secret."

"Fey, don't tell him anything," Tristan warned.

Linden laughed lightly again. Under any other circumstances, it might have been perceived as friendly. Now it just seemed strange and out of place. "Oh, Tristan, sir. Surely you haven't forgotten already? I know she knows. And I know exactly how many personalities are bouncing around in that brain of yours...something you don't seem to fully comprehend yourself."

"Wait...what?" Tristan was caught off guard. What was he insinuating?

"You know quite well what I'm insinuating, Mister Tristan. You believe there to be eight. But you don't seem to understand how fascinating you really are." Linden slowly got up from his chair and began walking towards Tristan.

Everything in his mind was telling him to run. Everything was telling him to break down the front door to the library and run.

But he couldn't. This bugger knew him better than he did. And he needed to figure out how much he knew.

"Tristan. You talk to yourself because you're lonely. You feel detached from the rest of the personalities since you believe that you're the only one who knows what he's doing. That's until Miss Mabel came along. You feel inadequate next to her. You feel as if she's doing your job, but better. You feel threatened by her presence because not only is she relaxed and able to make smart decisions, but she has the willpower and the sense to have the others act upon the facts that she has laid out. You're jealous because even though she doesn't make any sort of decision by herself, she ends up getting what she wants, something you just can't seem to achieve.

"But now, looking at me delving into your mind like this...you're paranoid, Tristan, sir. You always have been. But you're curious, too. And that's why you haven't stopped me yet. You want to know how much I know so you know how careful you have to be around me. You've been thinking that the 'other you' that you talk to is another personality, but you know that the notion is quite ridiculous, especially considering the rather offensive accent you've given him. And yet, he seems to be the voice of reason out of the two of you. He is the bridge between you and the others. He's the one who keeps other interests in mind. Though each decision you make is ultimately up to you, Tristan, sir, this voice...you hate him. You hate him because he's more sensible than you are. He's more...real than you are. But you don't want to get rid of him because he's the only thing you feel safe to call your friend."

Tristan wanted to tell him off. He wanted to go right up to Linden and sock him in the face and tell him that he was wrong. He wanted to hurt that smug little bugger so bad...but he couldn't. Because he was right. That voice...and Mabel...everything. He was right about everything. And he hated it.

Linden was very close to him now. There was no source of light between the two, since Linden had taken his headgear off. Therefore, the green puffball was simply a sinister silhouette standing in front of him. "I would delve into each and every one of you, but honestly, I think there are things that even you shouldn't know about yourself, Tristan. But that isn't what makes you insane. What makes you insane is that you and your sister think you're human, turned into puffballs. This would normally be so ridiculous it wouldn't even need explaining. And yet...the fact that there are two of you seems to make things more complicated. You see...what's strange is that your pasts seem to match up."

"Of course, they do," Tristan said caustically. "We're siblings."

Linden raised an eyebrow. "Yes. You two are human siblings from a different dimension. You both were brought here by some coincidence, separated by three years. Not only that, you were both turned into puffballs, and you, Tristan, sir, developed very severe retrograde amnesia on top of your also severe dissociative identity disorder. Quite a likely story."

Tristan narrowed his eyes but said nothing. He was right...it was uncommon.

"Dissociative identity disorder is a mental disorder that is diagnosed by at least two distinct and enduring personalities that alternate control of the individual's body. Often, it is accompanied by memory impairment that includes the forgetting of important events and facts not explained by ordinary forgetfulness. Fey, does your 'brother' forget important events or facts in a way that cannot be explained by ordinary forgetfulness?"

Fey's eyes widened as she realized Linden was talking to her. "Um...no, I don't think so. Nothing past the whole, um...'I forget everything' thing..."

"That's probably just the fact that the memories don't carry over from personality to personality," Tristan excused. "We tell each other everything in the journal."

"Oh, yes, but you don't need to do that for some of them, do you?" Linden asked, his smile widening.

"What are you getting at?"

"What I'm getting at is Mia and Mabel."

Fey piped up. "Who's this Mabel person?!"

Linden turned to face her. "Mabel is Mister Matthew's undoing."

"What?!" Tristan protested.

"Mabel is one of Mister Matthew's personalities, the eighth to reveal herself. And that's the problem, isn't it?" Linden smiled his unnerving smile again. He calmly walked over to the table and picked up the dying lantern. "You'll have to excuse me, the light level's low enough in this library already. Can't have this one dying." He carried it to the front desk as he continued. "As I was saying...Mabel 'revealed' herself. This shouldn't happen. She and Mia have both exhibited the ability to perceive what other personalities are doing. This goes completely against the forgetfulness that you dismissed earlier. So tell me, Mister Tristan...if you don't have dissociative identity disorder...what do you have?"

The scratch of a match being struck broke the silence that Linden had made. A small flame illuminated his face as he lit the wick inside the lantern. With a metallic screech, he closed the lantern's door. His expression reminded Tristan of some sort of wolf, stalking his prey.

"Now hold on!" Fey objected as she stood up from the chair. "How does that mean he's insane? How does that mean we're insane?"

Linden ignored her. "You woke up next to a diary, Miss Alice."

"I'm not Alice," Tristan said through gritted teeth.

"I wasn't talking to you."

Linden was very close, now. The lantern's flame wavered in the darkness. It was only now that Tristan realized how afraid he was. His heart was palpitating, and his skin was cold and clammy. And Linden...Linden stood in front of him with the expression he no doubt wore when they had first met. That smile...it seemed so genuine. He looked at Tristan as if this were some sort of game. Was that all this was? A game? Whoever this guy was...he was a threat. A real threat.

"I was talking to Alice."

Alice gasped for breath. This time was different. She sometimes felt like she was stepping forward. Sometimes she felt like she was being shoved from behind.

But never had she ever felt as if she was being pulled from the outside.

"Miss Alice. I wanted to ask you a question," Linden said with a grin. "How nice of you to show up."

Alice stared at Fey, silently screaming for help. She was scared. She wanted nothing to do with this person in front of her. So she nodded meekly. "Okay..."

"Well, it isn't really a question, more a point I wanted to make," Linden corrected himself. "You woke up next to a diary, did you not?"

Again, she nodded.

"How convenient is it that you woke up to a brand new diary that gave you the idea to use one for communication?"

"What are you saying?" Fey stood up. "That she put it there?!"

Linden didn't answer her. "Everyone in this town is insane, Fey. Or, I should say...everyone remaining in this town is insane. Liz...Ash...Matthew...and you."

"You can't say something like that without explaining anything," Fey said harshly.

"Of course not," Linden dismissed. "But you've been having your doubts about the two of them. Don't bother denying it, Miss Fey. I can quite literally read you like a book. There is only one word necessary to convince you that Liz suffers from sadistic tendencies."

"And what would that be?"

"Screams."

All motion in the library stopped.

"No," Fey whispered.

Alice felt like crying. "What, Fey? What screams? What is he talking about?!"

Linden turned to her. "Oh, but you've heard them, too. Perhaps not as Alice, though...No...You were David."

"Stop it! Stop it!" David screamed as the tears Alice built up came running down his face. "Stop doing this! It's not right!"

"Hold on..." Linden frowned for the first time that night. "You heard them, but they were drowned out. Drowned by...ringing. You've been having auditory hallucinations."

David looked at Linden in fear. "Shut up! Go away! I hate you!"

"If you're truly from another dimension, David...how have you been talking to your father over the phone?"

"You've been what?" Fey stared at him. Hard.

"Not only that..." Linden continued. "But if your 'human' memories are correct...he's dead."

"No! He can't be!" David protested, his voice cracking. "I talked to him! He told me to keep my head up for mom!"

Linden laughed. "But how? Your father's dead. You remember that. In fact, you remember all of those conversations from before you lost your memory. You were lonely, so you invented your dad having a one-sided conversation, plucked fresh from your past on the other side of the phone. Why was it one-sided, though? Did you ever ask yourself why he never answered back?" Linden leaned forward, his grin widening. "It's because you were mute."

David choked, unable to take it. He sunk to the floor and began to sob.

"But I'm getting sidetracked. You heard screams, too. Fey, have you seen Marco around lately? What about Paula?"

Fey scowled. "What does that have to do with Mia?"

"You remember their Copy Abilities. Bomb and Crash. It isn't a coincidence that they both disappeared shortly before your surgery. Liz told you about how she was able to make advancements of progress on your operation because of the headgear of explosive abilities, such as...say it with me..."

"Bomb and Crash..." Fey echoed, her voice beginning to shake again. "No...you can't mean..."

Linden abandoned David and began stalking towards her. "Liz is a mad scientist, Fey. Marco is dead. She didn't have to kill him. But she did. She found it fun. Paula died about...mm...an hour ago from malnutrition. And now Liz wants a 'follow-up operation' to make sure 'everything's working correctly'. What do you think she means?"

"No...she can't..." Fey shivered, feeling a lot less safe.

Linden looked ecstatic as Fey trembled, breaking down in front of him. "Oh, but she did. And you're next. You wondered why she did this for you. And now you know. But if you'll recall...I said Ash was insane, too. What do you think, Adrian, sir?"

Adrian coughed suddenly, wiping David's tears away. "You're insane."

"Ah, just like you to jump to conclusions, Adrian," Linden said good-naturedly. "At least let me plead my case about Ash. When he asked you to investigate the river, you went back to your room and found a note that told you to disobey his orders. Who wrote that note?"

"...I did..." Fey said quietly.

"Fey. Tell the story," Linden commanded.

Fey bit her lip, obviously not wanting to do so. But she caved. "Ash has been concerned about that river for a very long time now. He's been sending puffballs up there for 'reconnaissance' for almost a year. And without fail...those puffballs end up going missing. Like Michael. He was the one before you. He had gone twice and came back with nothing of importance. The third time, though...he disappeared. He's gotten maybe ten or twenty puffballs to go up there...and he doesn't even seem to notice that they're gone. Only that they can't give him any more news about that river. And when he asked you...I panicked."

"So...what does that mean?" Adrian's voice was trembling almost as much as Fey was.

Fey shook her head. "I don't know. I just knew that if you went up there I'd never see you again..."

Linden clicked his tongue. "Miss Fey, you're forgetting one thing. The pictures."

"He...he has...p-pictures...in a drawer in his k-kitchen...I saw them by accident...b-but I think...that when he kills someone...he puts a hole through their face.

"And there we have it," Linden concluded, swinging his lantern in his grip happily. "Everyone in Wyvern is mad except for one person!"

"Wait...you haven't proven me yet," Fey protested. "You claimed that I think I was human and that proves it, but you haven't proven that I'm not human."

"But I don't need to, Fey. I don't need to prove that you and your brother are wrong about being human. Because this is where the logic I mentioned earlier comes into play," Linden grinned as he put the lantern on the floor. "Either you're insane...or I am."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Come clean."

Linden's smile vanished.

"Fey and Matthew Choreman. I am insane."

Adrian felt like his heart dropped into his stomach. "Wh...what?"

Linden's eyes flitted to the headgear on the table. "Insanity: a deranged state of the mind usually occurring as a specific disorder. I am insane."

"I...I don't understand..." Fey stuttered.

"Miss Fey," Linden stressed. "With or without that headgear, I am able to analyze many things about an object or person. Just by looking at you, I can predict your date and cause of death by the strength of your immune system, your path of decisions from this day forward, your typical diet, the way you talk and present yourself, and the relationship you have with people around you. I have an understanding of you that even you yourself cannot comprehend. But I don't know anything about myself.

"I have tried looking in the mirror. The headgear gives me facts about the mirror. I have tried looking at photographs. The headgear gives me statistics about the photograph. But it won't tell me anything about myself. I know nothing about myself. And it has driven me insane."

Adrian no longer knew who was in front of him. Linden was still the calm, collected puffball that he had grown used to for the past few days. But something was...off about him. Was it that his smile was gone? Or...was it that he was talking about himself?

Linden took a breath and let it out slowly. He stared at the metallic headgear on the table. "I have no opinion, Miss Fey. I have no say in my actions, Mister Matthew. That thing does all my thinking for me. My only option is the path of choices that will keep me alive for as long as possible. It is, after all, a machine with the primary purpose to serve. But it has drawbacks. Because my personal thoughts are not necessary for self-preservation, I have not thought personal thoughts for a long time. I have no personal opinion of either of you. It's all facts, facts, statistics, statistics...Liz was right. A normal puffball's brain would not be able to handle that much information." He looked up at Fey with a dark expression. "I have no brain. That thing is my brain."

Linden, for the third time that night, began to walk towards the front door. "But I've found a loophole. One that will let me escape from being nothing more than its vessel," he stated, grabbing a key from the front desk and unlocking the door. "Before even my longevity is taken into account, the headgear must be sure that its actions are righteous. Though it excuses the siphoning of information by never having me use it for wrongdoing, it does not believe that hurting others is necessary. But to preserve myself, I have been told to preserve an ongoing threat that will endanger everyone around me. The facts that the headgear has gathered state that you are lying about being human, but your bodies and brains are telling the truth. So that must make you insane. Since the actions of insane individuals are unpredictable and sometimes violent, the best course of action is to kill you. But the machine has perceived what it has done to me. It recognizes that I am not sound of mind, and has deemed me insane. So by the logic it has deemed 'correct', I must kill myself to have a longer lifespan. This is, of course, nonsensical. So my 'brain' has reached a contradiction. And I, as Linden, am consulted as a third party for my opinion. And my opinion is this," he said quietly, under his breath.

Fey got up from her chair slowly, watching as Linden calmly made his way back to her.

He looked her right in the eyes and whispered his request.

"Kill me."

"What!? No!" Fey protested, backing away from the deranged puffball in front of her.

"Miss Fey, I am unable to escape any other way. By some strange luck, I have created one way to spare myself from being a machine for a machine. Trust me when I say that this is my best option. I must be righteous, and if I continue to live, I will only hurt others. And I don't think...I don't think I would like that."

Adrian's heart threatened to explode by the rate of its circulation. He couldn't just kill him...it was wrong!

Linden looked at Adrian and sighed sadly. "Alright...if you won't do it...I will."

Then he stood up, grabbed his lantern from the table, and smashed it against the floor. Fire spread across the library like lightning as Fey and Adrian raced to the door with the flames licking at their heels. Fey rushed through the threshold and ushered Adrian through. Before he did, though, he took one glance back.

Through the flames, Adrian saw Linden looking at the two of them with tears in his eyes. A crack sounded from the roof of the library, but Linden didn't seem to notice. Locking eyes with Adrian, he smiled his good-natured smile that Adrian had been accustomed to. From within the burning inferno of the library, Linden waved goodbye.

Fey yanked Adrian away from the front door seconds before the library crashed down on itself. The siblings lay on their backs in the snow, wordlessly trying to comprehend what happened.

Finally, as the gravity of the situation sunk in, they began to cry.