Page 116 of Within the Veil

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Let this knowledge be a warning and not a guide. For the the rites delineated herein are not to be undertaken lightly. The transference of Anima and Quintessence, (Soul and Essence) stand amongst the zenith of arcane sacraments, veiled in boundless promise yet fraught with nameless peril.

Hudson

I shake my head at the warning. Who is the warning for? Gods' do what they want, and apparently, princes too. Warnings are going to have to be a bit more terrifying if they are going to be heeded. Something like, 'If you do this, your lungs will explode. So stop your iced-coffee shit.' Instead, there is a warning followed by clear instructions. This is the epitome of Fae-Fuckery.

"Wow, it's like having a library beat you over the head over and over again," Jensi marvels, breaking me out of my internal scolding.

I snort. That's putting it mildly. I'm sure if I were human, or even moderately un-fae, this process would make my brain implode.

"Keeping my mental walls down is fun, isn't it?" I tease.

I roll my eyes at their serious looks. Too soon, I guess. Have a couple of mental breakdowns, and suddenly, you're a danger to yourself and others. As if I weren't already a danger to others.

"It's fascinating how the text is translated. As if the Fae who did it, was on a mission to preserve the original language and still modernize it," I say.

"How do you mean? It came through as traditional Fae," Oberon frowns.

"I heard it in the dialect of the Loch," Grayson shrugs.

"The text will read in the form that the interpreter is most familiar," Elodia says, matterfactly. This only means, my brain is a cluster-fuck of mish-mashed madness. Although, that is more comforting than hearing the Little Mermaid or Tinkerbell read to me.

"I protest this spreading of misinformation," Oberon scowls.

"Angel," Grayson growls.

I shrug, " anyways. So we are technically related and have a bond with one another so deep that we will gravitate towards each other. Hmm, it says we will lack self-preservation. Which makes sense, considering I'm ready to go get Charlie now that I know about her. Luckily, we can't harm each other, so that's a bonus. I mean, if she were like the evil Fae-sister, then I can see why it wouldn't be a bonus. Either way, the most I got from all of this is, had Shea or Gaia made a mistake, they would have fucked us all over beyond belief. Same thing with the Dragons, actually; with their ice-coffee necklace. Not that they are getting it back." I clutch at my chest, where the necklace is now a pretty glowing tattoo, ferally. They will have to pry it from my cold, dead, Sméagol hands.

"Babe, you're ranting," Remi sighs, rubbing her temples.

"Ranting? She's coming apart at the seams," Ryder, teases.

"Focus!" Zane bites out, his jaw clenched.

Okay, officially fed up. Got it.

"To answer your question," Elodia directs at Zane, "Yes, when the desk senses that there is information you need, even if it is not knowledge you seek consciously, the texts will be made available. You will feel a need to come to the library that surpasses all other wants and desires. If you are not able to retrieve the text, due to circumstances that would require your utmost attention and diligence, the desk will make the decision to send the information directly to you." Elodia taps the side of her head.

"That, at least, is good to know," Luca says pensively.

Jensi chuckles, "Sure. Just imagine us on our missions and suddenly getting an influx of information about ancient, man-eating Octopi with poisonous spikes that you aren't even consciously aware are following you. If the Octopi don't get you first, the heart attack will."

Jensi scowls as Luca smacks him upside the head, "Shut it. Depending on where we all end up, it sets the mind at ease to know we won't be without possible life-or-death information if we come across something dangerous. Hudson's brain library is useful, but reaching out to her, waiting, and hoping it's something she can access is time-consuming."

I close my eyes and breathe through the momentary panic invoked by the words, 'life-or-death,' and try to focus on the fact that Luca is right. If things don't go according to plan, which, let's be fair, never do, at least if it's something the desk can help with, then we will be at an advantage.

"Assuming, the desk deems it something for the group to know, as a whole. If the knowledge is imparted to an individual, then it goes without saying that trust is the most important bond between all of you." Elodia says serenely.

We got that in the bag, at least. The bag of bullshit fate has thrown at us.

I sigh, suddenly tired, hungry, and needing to pee like a Kelpie. Before I can move, there is a sudden spark in the air, and Li'Ella materializes in the center of our circle, and everyone freezes. Her petite five-year-old frame, still clad in her training leathers, hovers several inches above the floor, her eyes no longer the bright green they once were. Instead, they're two deep swirling pools of silver holding a bottomless pit of weariness. I suppress a shiver as those eyes meet mine, and a small smile curves her lips. I can't make myself smile back, considering I don't know if it was a trick of the light streaming through the large windows or an illusion caused by the fact that her hair whips around her, the long white strands almost alive.

The court, that's me, would like to point out, that there is no wind present. At all. So not only is there a possibly possessed child in my library, but there is an invisible hurricane happening right where she is floating.

Li'Ella- esque opens her tiny mouth, and I stick with my possession theory. The voice that comes pouring out, older, heavy with grief and the burden of heavy knowledge --you know, the sound, like a crime show narrator where they keep us on edge, even though they totally know what the fuck happened some odd years ago-- is completely at odds with her usual sweet voice.

"King of Shadows," Not-Li'Ella says softly, her melodic tone filling the space. All eyes swivel to Oberon, who tenses at the sound of her voice.

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