Page 46 of Saving Destiny

The next one is equally unbelievable because it displays various relics that I considered the province of myth or legend and not history. I spot a chalice, a longsword, a wooden chest encrusted with jewels, and a crystal ball. Have I waltzed into a fantasy novel? I’m scared to ask if the items are what my imagination suggests – the Holy Grail, Excalibur, and the crystal ball used by Alexander the Great’s mage advisor. I don’t recognize the wooden chest, but it could hold Jack’s magical beans. Anything is possible.

Fear abruptly steals the air from my lungs. It’s as if every story I’ve ever heard has been converted into reality. The combined weight of them forms a vise around my chest. I’m responsible for these relics? Items of such importance that they caused or ended wars that killed thousands?

Fin, vigilant and knowing, studies me with sympathetic understanding. “Ye needn’t worry, lass. These are just shadow imitations.” His tone is conspiratorial, as if he's speaking just to me.

I blink rapidly and suck in several huge breaths.

While I’m still attempting to form words, Garrett asks the question on the tip of my tongue. “Shadow imitations?”

“Aye.” Fin’s wings carry him until he’s hovering over the glass case, and he waves his hand. Orange fire flickers in his eyes for a brief second and the objects inside the glass waver. It’s so quick that I think he’s playing a trick on our vision, but he explains. “They are illusions … of a sort.”

“Why all the security then?” Kodi demands. He’s irritated on my behalf, even though Fin’s words are more of a relief than a disappointment.

“They are mere shadows of the reality they represent, but there’s more magic in one o’ them than there is in you, ghost,” Fin scolds and my best friend ducks his head as if he regrets speaking. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that particular expression on his face.

Fin flutters his wings and addresses all of us again. “The actual relics are too powerful to be contained in one world in their entirety. The library took half of their magic and created these shadows. Although everything here has significant power, they’re incomplete. Because they’re not whole, they can’t be used for their original purposes. The remaining magic resides … elsewhere.” When Bren immediately begins to ask where, Fin shakes his head. “I won’t … can’t … tell ye where, young ones. The library already holds great power. Although you’re unaware of it, your presences here add more. A single place can only hold so much power before it’s in danger of imploding. The same is true for knowledge; knowing too much can be dangerous.”

Although Bren looks like he’s considering arguing, I agree with the goblin. The wordimplodingimplies chaos and doom, and I want no part of it.

“Are the books the same?” I ask, halfway expecting the nearest old books to flicker like the objects in the case … like Kodi. What if Kodi’s body is just a shadow imitation? What if he just needs more magic to connect to his solid form? I don’t have any time to dwell on the random questions before Fin recaptures my attention.

“Almost every book on this floor is in its original form; less than a dozen have been modified to contain their power. Unlike these relics, some interpretation is required to use the magic inherent within a text. Any idiot can, and historically has, used relics of power without much intention or intelligence.”

My curiosity wants to know which books were altered, but I keep Fin’s advice in mind. Maybe it’s better if I don’t know.

“Do you have any books on this floor about the integration of tech and magic?” Garrett asks. His question distracts all of us from our current thoughts because he’s spoken very little since we met the old goblin.

Avery is quiet, but this is normal for him. He remains several feet away from the cases, and I wonder what he sees with his magical sight. The imitations are more than just that if they hold significant power and importance, but the fact that they can be hidden from sight makes me second-guess Fin’s explanations. I don’t doubt Sage’s reasons, though. If their information isn’t exact, there’s probably a good reason.

The goblin’s hat dips toward his eyes, and I’ve realized this is the hairless creatures’ equivalent gesture to the lifting of eyebrows in humans. “Technology has existed alongside magic since the dawn of time, shifter. When humans first created tools, they created technology.”

A muscle flexes in Garrett’s jaw, but it’s the only outward sign that he’s irritated by Fin’s correction of his terminology. “He means new tech — advanced electronics like computers and smartphones and stuff like that,” Kodi clarifies helpfully, even though he seems oblivious to the shifter’s and goblin’s wordplay.

“Ah, ye mean the devices that the magicless created to mimic magic,” Fin replies.

I’m not the only one that appears surprised by Fin’s unusual definition. It’s the first time I’ve heard newer technology described in this manner, and it makes a strange sort of sense.

“Let me see,” Fin hums thoughtfully as his gaze lands noticeably on Bren. The mage doesn’t appear to notice because he’s staring into the distance, but I know he’s listening to every word. “There may be one or two that delve into the connection, but ye won’t find the answer in one book. Information from several texts will provide the pieces to the puzzle, and they’ll require linking before a picture will form. The magicless on this world have utilized tools and various instruments for centuries, but they’ve only recently learned how to harness energy in this endeavor. Recently in the grand scheme of time, that is.”

“On this world?” Garrett and I ask the question simultaneously so the words overlap.

“Of course. Ye don’t think ye are the only ones to occupy the universes, do ye?” Fin’s words are taunting, but the directness of his gaze seems to issue a challenge. Garrett asks more questions, but the goblin is finished speaking on the subject. He turns away from the cases and gestures toward the shelves on the other side of the cleared area. “Over there, ye shall find the various manuscripts that eventually became the Old Greek version of the Hebrew Bible, then Tyndale’s Bible, so on, and so on. There were various versions, and the library maintains notes leading back to the very first.”

I’m not interested in Christian legend right now, so I pose the other question that’s rattled around my head for days now. “What of ghosts?” I blurt. “Do you have any informational texts about spirits forming corporeal bodies?”

Kodi snorts, but I ignore him as Fin turns to look at me. As he does so, I realize that the goblins are equipped to maneuver the tight corners and spaces of the library. A single beat of their wings can spin them about completely. The goblin stares at Kodi as he speaks. “Life is meant to be purposeful,” he says slowly, and I wonder if he’s deliberately avoiding a direct answer. “I have no personal experience with the afterlife, but I imagine a spirit might feel aimless in death because their life and purpose has concluded. This veers into philosophy, but perhaps imbuing death with purpose – giving it life in a sense – is the best way to make it more meaningful.”

My face screws up with confusion and my tail slaps the wooden floor with a hollow thump. He’s just given me a riddle, not an answer. “That makes no sense,” I argue. “Life doesn’t inherently hold purpose or people wouldn’t spend their entire lifetime looking for it. Most people, magicless or not, live for the pursuit of pleasure instead of purpose because it’s easier to define and find.”

“People might search for purpose, but the search is unnecessary. In addition, it’s rare that life only holds one purpose; many exist simultaneously. However, only one is inevitable, unchanging, and universal. No one can avoid it and all life must achieve it. What is it?”

I scowl at the goblin. If the first answer he gave me wasn’t a riddle, this one definitely is. While I decide whether to accuse him of being deliberately obtuse, Bren speaks.

“I know the answer,” the mage says in a tone that is both triumphant and sad. “The inevitable purpose is death. Life doesn’t require anything to belife; if it exists, it is. Everything that lives must die, though.”

“Precisely,” Fin says with a rustle of his wings. “This is why death might feel purposeless; the ultimate goal has already been achieved. The dead need to find purpose, but they must also accept that their purpose has been achieved and nothing will change that.” The goblin’s black gaze pierces Kodi, but I can’t read the emotions behind the stare.

My best friend crosses his wispy arms over his chest and scowls, but I recognize his expression as a pout. “I thought the sphinxes were supposed to be the ones who speak in riddles,” he retorts, and it reminds me of how similar we are.

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