"Really, Amelia? You could spend your final moments anywhere in time and space, and you pick some dank library? Feh, whatever."
A voice spoke from the hole punched in the fabric of reality in the center of the room. It was a woman's voice, but it had a strange reverberating quality, as though the same voice repeated the exact words but slightly out of sync. Shiori gazed into the schism and saw the silhouette of a tall woman surrounded by turning clockwork gears.
The mystery woman's heels clicked on the marble floor as she stepped out of the hole. As soon as she stepped through, the hole slammed shut behind her, vanishing entirely with a soft popping sound.
Shiori looked over the second visitor to her library. The woman was well-dressed, with frills adorning her skirt and detached sleeves covering her arms. A cape billowed behind her, but the most unusual feature was the mechanical halo floating just behind her head. On this halo were three arms that spun around, resembling the second, minute, and hour hands on a clock.
"Ouro Kronii, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Shiori asked. Glancing back again, she saw that the blond-haired girl, Amelia, had pulled a small pistol from a holster strapped to her thigh and had it trained on Kronii. Shiori held up a hand between the gun and Kronii. Amelia let her aim drop, though just a bit.
"Oh, hey. You're one of those people who broke out of The Cell? Eh, don't worry. That's not why I'm here. I couldn't care less about your crimes. I'm just here for the troublemaking detective. Let me have her, and I'll leave you be." Kronii raised a gloved hand. Blue energy gathered around it.
Shiori stepped between Kronii and Amelia.
"I'm being very lenient here, librarian. You should accept my mercy. Now move." The energy around Kronii's hand flared up, licking at the air like blue flames.
"I appreciate the offer, Ms. Ouro, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline. You see, I'm something of a Sir Arthur Conan Doyle fangirl, and what should fall into my lap but my very own Lady Sherlock? You can't imagine how bored I've been lately." An unhinged grin spread across Shori's face. "And I must admit that I find this situation thrilling. What will happen next, I wonder?"
Kronii rolled her eyes. "Suit yourself. I've heard things about you, Novella. I doubt that after what you've gone through, you are fully human anymore. You've probably figured out how to extend your lifespan, right? But news flash, you aren't immortal. I bet, oh, ten thousand years ought to be enough to turn you to dust."
The flame on Kronii's hand flared up. Shori found herself now encased in a similar energy.
Two diminutive felines shot out of the shadows in a blur of motion. The first kept its distance but fired off three shots from its Glock. Two shots went through Kronii's neck and the third through her shoulder. Kronii didn't even flinch. The bullets left behind bloodless holes in her flesh that closed seconds later.
The second of Shori's feline bodyguards rushed in with its small katana, trying to amputate Kronii's legs just below the knee. A sword resembling a hand on a clock with a ring for a handle appeared in Kronii's free hand, and she deftly blocked the strike while not breaking eye contact with Shori. This was followed by a kick that sent the feline swordsman skidding across the smooth marble floor.
As the temporal flames burned across Shori's body, she felt the weight of centuries pass by in the blink of an eye. Wrinkles etched valleys into her previously smooth skin. Her hair, previously half white and half black, had gone nearly all white. Arthritis seized her to the very marrow of her bones, and she was forced to lean over.
"I see, I see," Shori said, sounding old and feeble. She gave Amelia a wink. "I understand why our detective friend brought you here, Warden of Time." Shori stumbled, and the swordsman feline rushed to her to allow her to lean on him.
"Shakespeare, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steinbeck, Sir Terry Pratchett. All succumbed to the passage of time. Yet, they live in these halls, and we can still hear them if we listen." Shiori motioned to the bookcases around them, which stood as tall as buildings.
"You're annoying." Kronii gritted her teeth. The flame on her hand raged like a miniature bonfire. Shori rapidly aged; her hair fell out. She looked now not like an old woman but like some desiccated mummy unearthed from an arid desert tomb.
"This isn't just some dank library, Ms. Ouro; this is the Magnus Archivium, the best library in the universe, MY library," Shori continued. Her raspy voice was barely more than a whisper now. "Around you are every story ever written or will ever be written. In the end, we are all stories, aren't we?" A smile crossed Shori's face. "And stories are… timeless." Shiori flung her hand outward like she was slapping something away. The flames surrounding her extinguished, and her youth was restored in the blink of an eye.
"Heh, you figured it out." Amelia climbed to her feet and walked up to Shori's side. The two feline bodyguards joined them, and the four stared down the Warden of Time.