"Back again, Fakir?" the librarian bat hung upside down at the book checkout counter.
"I just can't seem to stay away from this place," Fakir shrugged. "There's been a few stories that have grabbed my attention lately."
"You can check them out, you know," the bat suggested. "You haven't met your limit."
"It's quieter here," Fakir protested. It wasn't completely true. His dorm room wasn't noisy at all. Helios was a particularly quiet roommate, which left Fakir plenty of time to read and peruse the books he'd borrowed. But at the moment, he wanted to flip through a few compendiums, seeking any other legends that had been translated from Japanese to German. If he could familiarize himself with them, he might be able to identify them more quickly. "I'll just be in the back."
"Just holler if you need something," the bat offered as Fakir left the checkout desk.
Fakir climbed the stairs towards his usual spot in the loft, scanning the area as he reached the top. No sign of Autor, surprisingly. Each time he'd visited, Fakir always found Autor puttering about the library or buried in a pile of books about legends. But this time, Autor seemed noticeably absent. Perhaps he'd puttered back to the music building to practice piano.
Shrugging, Fakir perused the books, spotting a few titles of compendiums with foreign-sounding names. He pulled the books, flipping through them and noticing several of the stories had been mercilessly ripped from them. The next compendium had met the same fate, as had the next and the one after that. Someone was trying to prevent them from knowing what legend would arise next.
He left the books on the table, trodding down the stairs and down the hallway. There were copies of books in multiple places, and Fakir knew where most of them were hidden. He opened up one of the doors, pushing the sliding ladder towards the end of the room. Climbing up a few rungs, he sat on the ladder, reaching out to pull the copies of the compendiums off the shelves. "Missing. Missing missing missing!" This spinner was crafty.
Shoving the books back on the shelf, he went to the next room, nearly tripping over himself in surprise as he came face to face with Edel. "Edel!"
"Why hello there, Fakir," she greeted him warmly.
"So you really are here," Fakir observed. "But why are you here? You had burnt yourself as kindling to save us before. Or are you a new Edel?"
"I do recall such a thing," Edel stated, not really answering any of his questions. "I do recall the pas de deux as well as you all were reunited."
Whoever had written Edel in was also familiar about the changes to the original story. Perhaps this was a trick. He reached out and tapped her on the shoulder.
She didn't flinch or even move, continuing to stare at him with a calm expression. "I can assure you, Fakir, that I am indeed really here."
Fakir frowned a bit. Something was off, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. Since it seemed that Edel was the same, he knew that direct questions were not an option. She'd just cryptically skirt around a direct answer. "So that leaves the question, why are you here in the library?"
"That is a mystery, isn't it?" she answered cryptically.
Fakir frowned some more. Perhaps that's too direct. "Do you know why the pages are missing from the books?"
"Someone doesn't want you seeing them," Edel finally replied with an actual answer.
"Are you working for the new spinner?" Fakir immediately followed up.
"I am a creation of Drosselmeyer, nothing more," she replied.
The words struck him as odd. If she had been created by the new spinner, she likely would've avoided that piece of information with one of her cryptic, evasive answers. But that answer was incredibly direct.
The world that was spinning was still the world that Drosselmeyer had created. The characters from the previous books had returned. Even he and Duck had returned to their old lives as if nothing had changed. This was still Drosselmeyer's Gold Crown Town. Perhaps that was something that the new spinner, no matter how powerful, still couldn't change. "Did you insert yourself into this story?"
"Who can say?"
There was the evasive answer he was expecting. But even as evasive as it was, it was also an answer. She was part of this world that Drosselmeyer had created. She'd destroyed herself the first time to alter the story, but she was still part of this world that had been revived and recreated.
That left the reason why she had appeared to Chibiusa. It seemed to him that Edel was a wild card, acting on her own during the story, mostly from the background until now. Chibiusa had seen her. Duck had seen her silhouette. Perhaps she was here for a reason. Perhaps she was just stuck here like the rest of them. "Did you bring Chibiusa here?"
"Perhaps."
That was more direct of an answer than he'd expected. "What is your goal here?"
"You are Drosselmeyer's descendant, perhaps you already know the answer."
Fakir stared at her for a moment. "Are you trying to hint at something?"
"Perhaps."
He really didn't expect much of an answer to that question. Perhaps he could figure something out here. "You gave Chibiusa Drosselmeyer's book in her world."
"Correct."
"Because of it, she's now here."
"Correct."
She was hinting at something. "Was it to help us find the spinner?"
"Perhaps. But the spinner also seems to desire here as well."
That was more of an answer than he'd expected. "He's targeting her." The ordeal in the art studio. Chibiusa had described it as the life was being pulled from her. That's a very dramatized way to describe death, but it was likely something he'd find in a fantasy story or a badly written romance novel. Not that he'd read the latter. "But why?"
"There is a reason."
"And you're not going to tell me, are you?" Fakir frowned a bit.
"It is a story I do not fully know."
"The missing stories," Fakir reasoned. "Someone is purposely removing them, but the book men still haven't moved."
Edel didn't respond, simply standing impossibly still as she let him think aloud.
And he was considering ideas. The book men operated outside of the story, fully aware that one was occurring. But thus far, they hadn't shown any signs of movement. Fakir had visited the book store several times, and the book seller seemed to be nothing more than a painting on a backdrop. It was possible that this story was operating in a way that the book men weren't aware or had simply been unable to find.
But that left the question as to who was ripping the books apart. "Is the spinner in the story?"
"Who can say?"
That was either an evasive answer or, "Do you know?"
"I do not."
That was more direct than he'd expected. She wasn't the spinner's creation. She was a result of Drosselmeyer's story springing back to life, somehow with her own agenda within this story. And somehow, she hadn't been caught. Perhaps it was like with Helios. She was a wild card, unmoved by the story playing out.
That gave him an idea. He pulled the paper and a quill from his back pocket. "I've got something I need you to do, Edel."
She simply stared at him intently as he began to write. His quill flowed across the paper like water in a stream. The words appeared on the page, and Edel finally moved, tilting her head just a bit curiously at him.
He paused in his writing, watching for any sort of interference. The story had become dangerous to a point where Chibiusa had died. He expected the spinner to come after him at some point, but so far, Fakir had remained reasonably untouched. Surely the spinner was aware of him, but Fakir wasn't entirely certain how aware.
But as he wrote, no one had interfered. He continued to write. "This is something you can do, right?"
"As it is written," she replied.
Fakir continued to scribble words on the page. He wasn't really writing about someone else, technically. He was writing some instructions for Edel to follow to help out Duck and subsequently Chibiusa. He could only control the world around Duck, and right now, he wanted to include Edel into this world. He was concerned. Something was happening and he needed a contingency plan. He didn't want to think of dying again, but he needed to ensure the ones who could save this story were safe.
He finished the writing, dotting the period emphatically before looking up. Edel and twisted a bit, suddenly pulling up like a puppet pulled out of a theater and disappearing.
Fakir shoved the paper back into his pocket. The rest was up to him at this point. He had to find out why these stories were being ripped apart and what they meant before they became worse. The trends in the title seemed to indicate they were Japanese legends, but a handful of books had removed legends that inspired ballets. He wasn't as familiar with some of them, leaving him to hope that the legends wouldn't be as violent as the last pair.
Then again, he knew not to get his hopes up. This spinner seemed to have Drosselmeyer's sadism and disregard for lives.
Fakir frowned a bit, turning and moving down the hall. He hoped he could find a book that hadn't been defaced, but the more sections he checked, the more he wasn't getting his hopes up.
But the next door he opened, he found something he didn't expect. The floor was covered in leaves and teapots, and in the center was Autor, unconscious. That explained why he hadn't seen Autor all day. Fakir knelt down, feeling for a pulse on his neck. He was alive still, not subjected to the violent wiles of whatever story was playing out here.
Autor stirred. "Fakir?"
"Good to see you're in one piece," Fakir admitted, rolling Autor up to a sitting position and wrapping his arm around his own shoulders. "I'm going to get you back to the dorms."
"No, you fool!" Autor protested quickly. "You need to get out of here! The stories are spinning again. That shapeshifter, I'm sure he's the source of this story!"
Fakir wrinkled his nose a bit. "You act like we haven't been talking for the past month."
"Month?!"" Autor exclaimed. "I've been stuck in this weird, creepy room since this story began again!"
Fakir stared incredulously at Autor for a moment. "Who have I been talking to?"
"You just can't keep your nose out of things, can you, spinner?"
Fakir quickly turned, reaching for whatever sharp objects were nearby. He couldn't find any so he grabbed a teapot. In the doorway stood a perfect replica of Autor, from his sharp speech to his even sharper glare behind his glasses. "Who are you?"
"I thought it would be amusing to leave you in this story," the impostor evaded the question, "but it seems you're too smart for your own good. If you could've just stayed out of the library, you could've seen this story to the end."
"That's like asking someone not to breathe," Fakir shot back.
The impostor pushed the glasses up his nose, his form shifting. His hair turned a dark green, trailing down his back. The glasses disappeared and his eyes shifted to an emerald green.
"What the hell?" Fakir stared. It was like looking into some strange, freaky mirror.
"Seems I'll be taking your place from now on," the impostor proclaimed. "Enjoy the end of the story. Oh wait, you'll be stuck here! Ahahahahahaha!" He slammed the door, locking it behind him as he cackled down the hallway.
...
Author's notes
No ballets or stories winding this time, but it seems that Fakir and Autor have become victim to the spinner's malicious whimsy. At least Edel might help turn this around. Maybe.
