Library

Hazel fell into a routine at Kamar-Taj. She rose with the sun and attended breakfast at eight with the rest of the students. From there, she had a couple classes throughout the day and two more meals provided to her. In her free time, she wandered, mostly, talking to plants and orienting herself around the place. Spell casting and spell theory classes were part of her daily schedule. After that, it was to the library with her; she needed more information on these Guests of hers. She gave the shelves a cursory look before approaching the librarian.

"Can you tell me where I could find bestiaries, please?"

The man looked up and gave her a curt nod. She hoped she wasn't bothering him.

"You're Hazel," he greeted. "The Ancient One has told me about you."

"Yeah... and, you are?"

"Wong," he introduced himself. He led her to a table with a small stack of books already on it. "I assume you're here to identify your... Guests." He glanced at her. "So I collected a few bestiaries covering things native to American territories. I wasn't sure what exactly we're looking for."

"Would it help if I had pictures?" Hazel asked. Wong looked surprised.

"It would," he nodded, and Hazel began fishing in her bag. "You've been able to take pictures of these Guests? All of them?"

"Well, I drew them," Hazel replied a bit sheepishly, setting a worn sketchbook on the table and flipping it open. "I know it's not as good as a photograph, but it'll give us an idea."

Wong thumbed through a few loose pages that she'd folded between the pages of her own collection. She wasn't the most talented artist he'd seen, but her sketches and paintings were adequately detailed for identifying the subjects.

"No, this is perfect," he nodded to her and began searching for matching entries in one of the library's bestiaries. Hazel moved to do the same. After a few minutes of carrying on like this, Wong found a beast in Hazel's book that he recognized.

"These must be a Poyavlyashka, or 'Appearling,'" Wong said as he looked over one of Hazel's drawings. The subject looked like a pile of leaves with pale, thin legs sticking out beneath. "An old observationalist Bormot recorded sightings of similar beasts. We should have a copy of his notes here somewhere."

"Where can I find it?" Hazel was the first to push away from the table.

"Last row, to the left," Wong directed, appeased to see that she was so eager to help. However, before he sent her out to retrieve a book on her own, he gave her a stern glare. "If any harm comes to these books, even the Ancient One couldn't protect you."

Hazel bobbed her head. "Don't worry. I'd hang me if I damaged a book."

He nodded in approval as she turned on her heel to search the area. She wandered quietly, peering at the tall shelves in wonder. She found a collection of bestiaries from different countries and eras, but she couldn't bear to settle for the ones on the lower shelves; Bormot's notes found itself on a high shelf just out of her reach. Hazel stretched and jumped until another voice startled her.

"Don't you know a levitation spell or something, shorty?"

She whipped around and glared at her onlooker; Stephen Strange, that American Hazel's peers asked her about.

"Here, let me get it," he reached the book with ease, the bastard, gave it a cursory scan, and handed it to her. "Can you read Russian?"

"I'm mostly in it for the pictures," Hazel replied. "Could you get me that one too?"

She didn't need it, she just needed to assert dominance.

"Here."

She stared at his scarred, shaking hands as he did as requested. Stephen fidgeted, all but shoving the book at her and hiding his hands back in the folds of his robes.

"Sorry," she started. "I was just... sorry."

She turned and left, face burning and legs shuddering like vats of jelly. She returned to the table and set the bestiaries out and open to look through. Wong glanced at her, noticing her change in mood, but didn't press her. He took one of the books and began looking through it.

"Here it is," he set it out for her to see. The pages contained sketches of similar leaf-creatures and limited notes.

"Looks about right," Hazel took out her phone and took a picture of the page. "H.E.R.M.E.S., translate for me, please."

The AI spoke up in a hushed tone. "Appear-ling. Ranging from two to seven feet tall. Most commonly seen during the harvest season. Passive unless provoked. Fears flame."

"Flame, huh?" Hazel frowned. "Does it say anything about voices? Like, does the Appear-ling talk at all?"

"There are no references to the Appear-ling having the ability to speak," Hermes replied in a solemn tone. "But these notes seem cursory at best. Perhaps Bormot didn't have enough experience with these Appear-lings?"

Hazel looked to Wong for confirmation, but the librarian looked, if possible, bleaker than before.

"All of Bormot's otherworldly research is poorly summarized," he explained, turning a few pages to show that the entire bestiary was sparse. "The old scientist was reclusive, and only began seeing these things as he went mad from isolation."

Hazel pursed her lips. "Not sure how to feel about that. At least I'm not alone. Let's keep looking."

Wong watched her. She was a spirited one, in spite of her circumstances.

"You're resolute," he praised. Hazel seemed to mistake his tone, by the way she stiffened and looked up sheepishly. "That's good."

"Oh?" she raised one eyebrow a little.

"Why don't you attend my class on advanced mystical creatures? You might not find what you're looking for, but you seem willing and able to learn from advanced sources."

"I'd like that. Thank you," she smiled at him.

Hazel's elation quickly burned out when another man joined them at the desk.

"Stephen," Wong greeted.

"Yes," Strange replied as he set a stack of books on the desk on top of Hazel's scattered papers. Hazel politely tried gathering her pictures to ensure minimal damages as Wong checked over the books Stephen handed in.

"You finished all these?" Wong asked.

"Yep."

"Come with me." Wong glanced at Hazel. "Hazel, you too."

Wong led Hazel and Stephen to another room of the library, where tomes hung on hexagonal racks.

"This is the master's section of the library. However, under my discretion, others may use it. Strange."

As Wong located a few books for Stephen, Hazel glanced around, breath-taken by the power she felt radiating through the room. There were things in this section that she could not even begin to understand.

"What are those?" Stephen asked. Hazel followed his gaze to a collection of noticeably more cryptic tomes mounted on the highest row of the last rack.

"That's the Ancient One's private collection," Wong replied.

"So they're forbidden?" Stephen grinned.

"No knowledge is forbidden in Kamar-Taj. Only certain practices."

"Like binding magic," Hazel muttered, fingering the chains on one of the racks. Wong gave her a sharp look, so she dropped her gaze and her hand. She scanned the collection, seeing if there was anything of interest.

"This one's got pages missing..."

Hazel's eyes settled on a tome with embossed leather binding and a familiar word in a strange language on it. Dahmaan.

"Dahmaan..." Hazel muttered. She knew that word—Remebrance—as it and many others formed in a line in her head, as if a voice only she could hear whispered quietly to her. Dahmaan, Kruziik. Dahmaan lein ni hiin. Dahmaan lein saal hi los fin Vokun.

Remember. The world is not yours. The world has said that you are the Darkness.

"Well, thank you for the book, and the threat upon my life," Stephen's voice made Hazel jump. She shook her head and returned to the others, her gaze seemingly permanently drawn to the talking book. Her arms and legs felt numb, and she felt a little light headed.

Wong turned to Hazel and handed her a book. "Your new textbook."

"Thanks," she took it absentmindedly, still stricken with wonder for the old tome. "What's that one?"

He glanced at it. "Nothing you need to worry about."

"Come on," she pestered as he began walking away. "Dahmaan means remembrance, right? Giin rotispar los dahmaan. 'My favorite word is to remember'?"

He stopped in his tracks and gave her a warning look.

"I thought no knowledge was forbidden," she grinned. A cynical part of her was overjoyed whenever the masters of the sanctuary would stare at her in shock and reproach as she revealed her own knowledge of something they didn't support.

"Not forbidden to masters," Wong rephrased his statement, trying to urge her along. "And speaking in dragontongue is a practice—there is magic in a word, and each word has more weight to it than you understand. You're far too young to maintain the effects of such a practice."

"Dragons, huh?" Hazel scoffed, as if she believed in such a thing but didn't believe she'd be led astray. "Gee, I wonder what it would be like to work with one of them... damn, if only I knew..."

"Only the strong in spirit and mind should involve themselves with dragons," Wong warned seriously. Hazel's smile vanished, replaced by a thoughtful wariness. "With your current situation, you're lucky to be in the same room as such a book."

Hazel ducked her head and followed him back to the main section of the library.

Sling Ring

Stephen saw Hazel again during Mordo's sling ring class. After showing adequate skill in spellcasting, Hazel was, strangely enough, a bit of a disappointment during sling ring drills. Everyone expected her to pass the class with flying colors, but, whether it be from sheer incompetence or holding herself back, Hazel couldn't conjure a spark. Mordo watched her intently, trying to see what she was doing wrong; she was going through the motions and seemed focused. Actually, she seemed too focused; her gaze didn't falter or stray despite her lack of success. So why was she having trouble? Mordo was surprised to see Stephen reach out to her.

"Here," the doctor tried directing her. "Like this—"

"Don't," Hazel jerked her hands out of his reach. She didn't look at him. Mordo stood on the other side of her, giving Stephen a sympathetic but stern look. Chagrined but not staggered, Stephen focused forward again. Mordo was about to return his attention to Hazel to direct her more clearly, but the girl simply looked up and past him. He could tell by her sudden lack of focus that something had distracted her fatally. The master turned, seeing the Ancient One descending the stairs.

"And stop," Mordo ordered the class, his gaze drifting about the group of students and back to the Ancient One.

"Master Mordo, if I could have Hazel for a moment?" she asked. Mordo nodded, and he and the rest of the class dispersed. Stephen lingered behind a pillar, eavesdropping on the conversation out of sight. He wanted to see what went on. Hazel had irritated him into wanting to see her get scolded. Or at least, that's what he told himself. Maybe he was just staying behind to make sure the Ancient One didn't do another crazy thing and get a student killed.

Hazel was petrified, terrified of being kicked out, terrified of being kept here. When the girl showed no sign of speaking first, the Ancient One initiated conversation.

"When I agreed to teach you, I thought it was clear that I expected you to try." Her tone was effortlessly level despite her annoyance. She disliked confronting her students directly, instead preferring to let them address their own problems—or what they thought their problem was—and seek her out for guidance if they needed it. Hazel was polite, but... irritatingly so. "If anyone else I knew conjured a seven-part ward in a matter of three days and then failed to create a spark in a sling ring class, I wouldn't have believed it."

"... Would you believe me if I said that there's no other place I'd rather be?"

"No."

Hazel looked down. "What if I don't go where I want? What if it's in that other dimension? I know the property is warded, but if we have a breach inside the area, we'd..."

"I understand your concern, but sling rings don't work that way. And even if they did, our masters could handle a wayward spirit or two. Hazel, if you don't perform, you'll never learn, and your time here will be a waste. I didn't ask for your insecurities when I agreed to teach you. Remember that."

A gentle gust of wind rose through the courtyard, like an exasperated sigh. Hazel's knees turned in.

"Your next lesson starts soon."

"Sorry."

Stephen ducked as Hazel scurried past him. The Ancient One's behavior struck him as both unusually harsh and remarkably tame. Sure, she'd left him on Everest to freeze to death, but she'd never been so vocally demanding of anyone—at least not that he'd seen. Maybe this was how the Sorcerer Supreme decided to give Hazel a nudge in the right direction.

Cat

Hazel feared for her status. She'd always hated being scolded, as anyone did, but drawing the attention of the highest in the order multiplied her chagrin to an almost unbearable level. However, Hazel knew she was in the wrong. The Ancient One listened and taught, and it was Hazel's responsibility to learn. But now that the Ancient One has spoken against her, Hazel would surely be cast out if she didn't start showing results. She could do this, surely. But her new-found motivation couldn't make up for what the Ancient One had said. What if the woman really thought Hazel was selfish or irritating or lazy? Hazel didn't know why she cared; maybe it was because the Ancient One was direct and powerful, like many things Hazel encountered. Hazel knew power and respected it, but if she couldn't curry favor of an entity more powerful than her, she feared being taken advantage of. Just as her rogue Guests were doing now. She needed to be strong to protect herself. That's why she's here.

Or maybe Hazel cared too much because she was so totally enamored with this mysterious being. The elegant, gracious, ancient body of determination who had welcomed Hazel to this hidden sanctuary. And now Hazel was disappointing her. She couldn't stand it. However, at the same time, she knew where she went wrong and what to do about it. She just needed to take a break to clear her head.

After asking directions from a few of the plants, gusts of wind and rattling wind-chimes soon led Hazel to a secluded area above the plazas, a small balcony with a shin-high wall bordering it, that overlooked a courtyard and the city and mountains beyond the boundaries of Kamar-Taj. She sat cross-legged on the small balcony and took a deep breath, feeling her anxiety shivering away from her like a shedding coat. It was quiet here.

Hazel didn't know how long she was up there, staring at the stones and towers of Kamar-Taj, but she only looked up when a familiar, powerful presence joined her. She turned abruptly, expecting one of the masters or-heaven forbid-the Ancient One herself standing behind her, so the girl was a bit befuddled when she saw no more than a cat waltz onto the balcony and hop onto the low wall. The cat was white and spotted with molted, almost tortoise-shell patches. It held a small folded square of cloth in its mouth. A handkerchief? The cat dropped it in Hazel's lap for her and leapt onto the low wall. Hazel dried her eyes dismissively and examined the unfolded pocket square. Gold initials embroidered on the corner. "TAO."

The cat looked right at Hazel, narrowing its eyes and flicking its tail, as if in a formal greeting. Hazel grinned.

"Is that you, Ancient One?" she asked, more as a joke than anything.

The cat blinked and nodded. Hazel froze.

Mordo warns Hazel of dragons

Stephen noticed a change during combat class. Actually, everyone seemed affected by an unseen force. Each student seemed lighter on their feet, as if refreshed by something they couldn't quite identify. Even the Ancient One was drawn to survey the matches as a result of this curious anomaly. Strange also noticed Hazel sitting out during class. She surveyed the others, contently polishing the staffs and racks to the side of the large courtyard, but didn't interact with anyone.

"Is she a part of the class?" he asked Mordo. He'd never seen a novice working, at least not during classes.

"No," Mordo shook his head. "She just really likes to clean."

"Why do you not sound happy about that?" Stephen loved people who loved to clean. It meant he didn't have to clean.

"Surely you've noticed a change in everyone's energy today."

"Yeah, I... have..."

Mordo narrowed his eyes at the girl. "Another skill of hers. She calls it 'brushing away negativity.' It's a cheap trick, no doubt originating from her Pagan background. But... it is helpful, and she truly works for it, so the Ancient One allows it."

"So it's true she knew magic before coming here," Stephen stated, looking at the girl again. He felt an unsettling curiosity about the girl, particularly because he kept asking questions about her that no one knowledgeable was willing to answer. "So why is she here?"

"To learn more, to know more. No more questions," Mordo gestured to another student to spar with Strange, then made his way across the courtyard to Hazel.

"I'll take that for you," she held her hands out to collect an acolyte's staffs.

"You sure you know how to clean this stuff?" the acolyte asked.

"Trust me," she smiled. "I know my way around leather straps and rods."

Judging by the look of horror and embarrassment on the acolyte's face, Hazel rethought what she said.

"What?" she asked. "No! It's not what you think."

"Oh?" the acolyte still withdrew. "S-sorry about that."

And he ran. Hazel rolled her eyes and continued cleaning until Mordo interrupted her. She smirked.

"I guess I know which virgin I'm sacrificing tonight," she stared after the acolyte for a moment with a narrowed-eyed gaze.

"Most of my students clean their own equipment," Mordo brushed over her poor joke. "Who put you up to this?"

"No one," she replied. "I offered."

"Why? You're not my student."

"I'm a ranch girl," she glanced up at him. "I'm a busy worker, even if I am lazy. Besides, being around people keeps the Guests deathly quiet."

"Effects of social isolation," Mordo recalled. "How are your Guests?"

"Quiet," Hazel replied. "It could be the Ancient One, or it could be the barriers in the area keeping them out. It's nice getting to sleep at night, but... I have to admit, I feel lonely. I mean, even the friendlier ones haven't come to visit me yet."

Mordo watched her watch the bugs on the ground. She was a passive person, soft-spoken, and had an aloofness about her. Thoughtful, elegant, and unpredictable. Eccentric, one might say.

"I'm sure the other novices would enjoy your company," Mordo suggested, examining her handiwork on the rack and weapons. She was thorough.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?" she asked. He nodded once. "How'd you get here?"

"I asked the Ancient One for the strength to defeat my enemies," he replied. "She taught me more. After all these years, it's never occurred to me to return to my own selfish quest, and because of that," he took a staff off the rack and turned it in his hands. "I follow the Ancient One's teachings, and teach others to uphold her practice within the natural law."

"She can't turn into a cat, right?"

Mordo looked up at Hazel. From where she sat on the wall, Hazel could see the entire courtyard, but she was particularly drawn to the corner where the Ancient One stood surveying the sparring matches.

"Perhaps," Mordo smirked, confident she'll say something interesting if he humored her. However, Hazel just seemed uncomfortable with his answer. "Little is known about the Ancient One, save that she's Celtic and doesn't like talking about herself."

"I think she's a witch."

Mordo turned his head more slowly this time with a fatigued look on his face.

"The Ancient One?"

"Yeah," Hazel glanced at the sorceress, then ducked her head and giggled like a school girl when she saw the woman glance over at them sharply. Mordo shook his head. Then the girl said something that startled him. "So why aren't we allowed to speak dragontongue here?"

"How would you know that? Those who know dragontongue are few and far between." After a brief moment of shock, he composed himself, looking entertained at the idea of Hazel knowing such an ancient, powerful language. She tilted her head.

"Hi grah voth ahkrin, Joor." He didn't understand what she said, but it was clear from her tone what she meant. "You fight like a punk, mortal."

He glared at her, irritated, but he wasn't sure why. Perhaps because she knew she wasn't allowed to speak dragon tongue, but did so anyway just because she could. She was an attentive student, but she had no place to hold herself higher than him when she couldn't even throw a punch to save her life. He couldn't wait for her to learn that.

"Dragons are powerful, unpredictable creatures," Mordo explained anyway. "They do not uphold the same standards that we do here at Kamar-Taj, so for the sake of safety, we don't teach of their kind here. We don't practice dragon-related magic, and we don't speak in their tongue. Whoever does would surely be possessed by the spirit of dragons, and only the most powerful masters could control themselves once imbued with such force."

"Oh," she watched him, for once unaware as the Ancient One stared at her.

Mordo gave her a meaningful look. "We don't practice binding magic here, Hazel. Or curses. Or simple fancies. We fight to uphold the natural law, not manipulate it. Remember that during your time at Kamar-Taj."

She looked back down at her work. She might not agree with him; he expected a little resistance. But, he figured, she'd come around. She had to.