Shiori awoke with a start. She had the nightmare again of being back in The Cell. She jerked up to a sitting position in her bed, and it wasn't until she felt the agony of her broken wrist that she remembered the incident with the Warden of Time and the time-traveling detective.
Sitting up, Shiori saw that she was in her bed. The small quarters were cluttered and chaotic, reflecting the owner's mind. Books and bric-a-brac were piled on every flat surface. She wondered momentarily if she was alone until she saw her loyal Nyakuza. One was at a table with his firearm disassembled before him as he cleaned it. The other was off in a corner, sharpening and oiling his blade.
Sometime while Shiori was unconscious, someone had wrapped and splinted her wrist. She inspected the strips of black cloth wrapped from her hand to her forearm with a piece of wood beneath.
"Sorry. I had to destroy one of your dresses to bind your wound." Amelia walked in carrying a serving tray with a teapot and four teacups. She gave the Nyakuza two cups before approaching Shiori's bed. "You know, I know someone who can heal that for you if you want to tag along with me."
"And join your fight against The Council, correct?"
"Yeah. I will need the strongest people I can find," Amelia said, handing Shiori a cup of green tea. I was going to make us lunch to go with the tea, but everything in your fridge was covered in mold."
Shiori blew on her tea. "Oh, a little mold never hurt anyone."
"Uh, I'm pretty sure that's wrong, Shiori," Amelia said, her brows knitting together in bewilderment and concern.
"Well, it never hurt me anyway." Shiori just shrugged.
"I mean this in the best way possible, Shiori, but you're built differently and very strangely." Amelia takes a sip of her tea. Her eyes are drawn to a framed photo on the nightstand beside Shiori's bed. "Is this your group? Advent?" Amelia asked.
"Yes, those are my friends."
"Where are they now? Are they here in the library?"
Shiori put her tea back on its saucer and looked at Amelia with a look of suspicion. She didn't know this time-traveling detective. Sure, they took down a demigod together, which counts for something. But powerful people were looking for her that would have her back in The Cell, and a detective isn't that far removed from a cop. However, Amelia seemed to have more of a "freelance" vibe. "Why do you want to know?" Shiori asked, trying to keep her face painfully neutral.
"I'm not going to throw you back into The Cell, Shiori. That's not my jurisdiction, and I doubt they'd hire me to do that. They'd probably keep that in house and send the Justice division. But to answer your question, I need the strongest people I can find if we are going to protect the world from the Council. Advent is said to be dangerous, and for me, that means powerful. So I'd like to have you guys on my side."
Shiori took a minute to consider her words. Maybe it was her Sir Arthur Conan Doyle fangirl side clouding her better judgment, but she decided the detective in the deerstalker's hat was trustworthy. "Biboo, er, Bijou is in Indonesia. There's a legendary blacksmith down there that she thinks might be able to find a way to help contain her power. The Abyssgard twins are at a children's hospital."
"Oh, a children's hospital? That's sweet of them."
"Yes, well, they are guard dogs, after all. They need something to protect, and they said they wanted to protect the smiles of those who needed it the most." *Shiori finished her tea before pouring another cup from the antique teapot. "Nerissa, sweet Nerissa is back at the Ravencroft Estate. Of all of us, she's probably the safest. I feel profound pity for anyone who tried to take on the Ravencroft family."
"So, will you help me, Shiori? With the Council out of control, nowhere is safe, not even the library," Amelia said.
"I'm not sure, honestly, Miss. Watson. I don't doubt the severity of the problem. But right now, my immediate concern remains laying low and hiding from those who would try and lock me away again. I wonder if having Advent around would be more of a liability than a boon to you?"
Just then, the conversation came to an immediate and literal crashing end. The room shook as though rocked by a powerful earthquake, and books and priceless, fragile antiques crashed to the floor all around it. A bookcase behind Shiori's bed threatened to topple and fall onto the heads of Shiori and Amelia, but the pair of Nyakuza were there in a second to hold it back.
"Earthquake?" Amelia shouted over the ruckus.
"There's no earth to shake. The library is just the library!" Shiori tossed the covers back and was out the door. She tried to deny what was happening, but in her heart she knew the truth. She wasn't just the archiver who worked at the archive; it was part of her, and she was a part of it. It was as much a part of her as her arm or leg, and it was in the process of dying.
Shiori darted into a room with Amelia and the Nyakuza right behind. The room was a small garage with a 1903 Ford A Runabout. Shiori jumped behind the wheel. Obediently, the car started up all on its own.
"Shiori, what's wrong?" Amelia jumped into the passenger seat. The Nyakuza climbed into the back seat.
"I don't know," Shiori said, tears were running down her cheeks. She didn't know for sure, but she had a good idea. She hit the accelerator, and the car drove out of the garage and into the library. The original Ford A Runabout had a top speed of around 30 mph. This one she had tweaked to do three times that, and she used every last horsepower as she buried the accelerator to the floor. Beside her, Amelia held onto the dash with a death grip.
The little car drove between bookshelves tall as buildings with paths between them as wide as city streets. "What year?" Shiori shouted.
"I'm sorry?" Amelia shouted back.
"What year did the Council go bad?"
"2024."
"Hold on!" Shiori slowed down to take a turn before slamming the gas pedal again. When she found what she hoped she wouldn't find, dreaded that she might find, but knew what she would find she brought the car to a screeching stop.
Behind them stood the towering bookcases, but before them was a large open area filled with mountains of gray sand like the dunes of some macabre desert. A few bookcases stood in the middle of this, but they stood at wrong, crooked angles. The group saw one of these listed to the side, before crumbling and falling.
Shiori ran up the side of a gray dune. Books were scattered among the piles of sand. She found the closest one and picked it up. The title read "Exodus: The History of Humanity Colonizing the Stars." She opened the book and saw it was printed in the year 2309. She opened up the book to the first chapter.
"Mankind first landed on Mars in the year 2056. The trip was not without peril and the mission was nearly scrubbed twenty days in due to a leak on the ship. But on December 20th, 2056 the first person to step foot on Mars was Commander Elizabeth Arm…" Shiori read out loud. Before she could finish the passage the book crumbled and fell between her fingers, becoming sand and adding to the pile at her feet. Shiori fell to her knees and wailed.
Behind her she felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Amelia with a pained expression on her face. Shiori sniffled pitiably. Her tears caused her makeup to run down her cheeks in black rivers.
"What's going on Shiori?" Amelia asked.
"Gone. It's just… gone." Shiori motioned to the growing deadlands before them.
"What's gone?" Amelia asked.
"Mankind, alienkind. Their knowledge, anyway. The Magnus Archivum contains all knowledge ever written down from the beginning to the end of time."
"What could have caused it?"
"The only way for a book to stop existing here is if it was never written in the first place. Something has happened. Time has changed and these books will never be written."
"S-so we're talking about?"
"The end of the world. The end of all words, Miss. Watson."
After that, the four of them returned to the untouched part of the library. Shiori took a couple of hours to research and found that the last books were written sometime around 2035. They went to the computer room. News stories spoke of the Calamity, a tear that opened in space stretching across the Milky Way and probably beyond. Finally, they went to the hall of notes. Handwritten letters fell from the sky like paper. These letters mainly consisted of goodbye notes written from parent to child or from one friend to another.
"You are right, Miss. Watson. I'm not safe here; nowhere is safe. The world you came from has eleven years before its destruction. Undoubtedly, the Council is responsible, either directly or indirectly. I will join you if you have me. I do not doubt that the rest of Advent will feel the same. Miss. Watson, we have a universe to save."