Page 77 of Within the Veil

"You are quite sane," a small voice speaks up, and I almost leap out of my fucking skin as a figure with long flowing white hair in a white and green gown pulls itself out of the side of the desk until she is hovers before me, her iridescent wings fluttering with a soft hum, a mischievous smile on her face.

The bond vibrates with concern as my heart pounds and I let them know that, apparently, the library has tiny, yorkie-sized, green-eyed Fae who pop out of the furniture and that I am glad that I didn't hump the bookcases like I wanted to. They laugh, and I mentally flip them off.

Holding a hand to my chest, I scowl," It is not polite to scare a fucking pregnant woman who can either pee from fright or give birth to tiny winged beasts."

She laughs, her voice tinkling like bells, while she holds her belly, her body shaking with her unrestrained glee. Well, I'm glad SHE is entertained.

"I apologize. It has been quite a long time since anyone has entered the Library, and as one of the Keepers of the Knowledge Library, entrusted with the task of tending to the Dùn Leabhar, it is one of my only sources of entertainment to surprise whoever lays a physical touch on the desk," she says, laughter still clear in her voice.

"So much to unpack there. Keeper, Dùn Leabhar, and physical touch let's go slow," I say dryly.

"Certainly," she inclines her head in a deep gesture. "Within these walls are thousands of years of knowledge. A lot of that knowledge, if it fell into the wrong hands, can be quite dangerous. The same goes for the relics that are stored here as well. Relics that, despite your gifts bestowed on you by the great Keepers, you will not know of nor have access to, unless the need presents itself...."She pauses as my eyebrow furrow.

"How will I know when the need presents itself? And what kind of relics? Weapons? Or are we talking Horcruxes here?" I ask.

She claps and laughs with sheer joy, "Oh, I do love a good Potter reference...however," her tone becomes serious as her green eyes come up to study my face, her keen gaze focused as if trying to peer into my soul.

She nods as if I answered an unspoken question, "The relics of which I speak are much more dangerous than that which can be drawn up by clever imagination. As for when you will know, you will suddenly be gifted the knowledge of the relic you will need to come and seek."

A shiver works its way down my spine. Cryptic? Check. Scary? Check.

"Got it," I say slowly. I didn't.

She giggles," To continue because of this. The library has its own keepers to protect and maintain all of the books and relics kept within. We are silent and usually unseen unless we are needed or preserving texts."

I nod. Makes sense, although how these cute little beings were going to protect anything is beyond me.

"Looks can be quite deceiving, especially within the Realm of the Fae. You will do well to remember that as your destiny unfolds," she says softly, her lips curling into a gentle smile.

Super cyptic. Check.

"As for Dùn Leabhar," she waves behind her. "Due to the power contained within, it requires its' own keeper. Not only does it house and protect certain magical scrolls with long-forgotten spells, but Grimoires that have been collected throughout the ages filled with dark and forbidden power. These Grimoires have been spelled by Gaia herself to break the mind of whom-so-ever attempts to read from those Grimoires with the intent to cause harm."

I nod, dumbly and she laughs lightly and continues with a gentle shake of her head, "Come, sit and I will continue. You shouldn't stand for too long." She points to a golden chair on the other side of the desk and I waddle my ass there and sigh in relief as I settle into the plush cushions. She summons a glass of water which I graciously accept.

With a soft motherly smile that makes my heart twinge strangely, she continues," Dùn Leabhar has two forms of protection. Myself being one, and the second being that it is sentient. The moment you touch the desk, you leave an imprint of your essence. With that small imprint, it will gauge the weight of your soul and deem you worthy or unworthy of accessing the contents of the desk...." she pauses briefly and moves to point at the carvings, "you noticed already that the figures carved within the desk are in motion. That is because the carvings you see are not mere decorations but conduits. Think of each carving as a piece in history, those pieces are bespelled to weave the tales of the Fae. As such, they represent the living history of the Fae. Triumphs, struggles, and futures." She looks me in the eye at the last.

"So it's a living record of Fae history. This is like the Mary Poppins all desks," I say breathlessly, shaking my head in fascination as I look closer, my eyes moving in warp speed as I try to piece together the stories within the carvings. I pause when I reach a darkened portion of the wood, where the figures seem to be fighting among themselves. Only, the figures seem warped, almost tainted...a representation of the present and end looks bleak.

I lean back with a frown, "You said, futures? As in predictions or something like mini-prophecies?" I question.

She hums slightly as she considers her next words," Yes and no, to both. Each movement represents a significant moment in the Fae's journey. As the present and future unravel, what the desk deems as 'significant' may change. Right now, the Fae are on a dark path. However, as you can see, the moment of significance has yet to be chosen. If one were to look to the desk in order to make a choice, they will not be able to. That is not the purpose of Dùn Leabhar. However, like every great keeper of history, it will show you the follies of repeating the mistakes of your predecessors."

I nod wordlessly as I place my hands on the smooth wood and marvel at the gentle warmth which emanates from beneath my fingerprints. I blow out a breath as the warmth intensifies, as if the desk is acknowledging my presence.

"Mind-fuck, but I would expect nothing less," I mutter as I move from stroking the wood-- because let's be real, who knows if it may get a little too excited, and I end up mated to a damn desk next-- and turn to my attention to, instead, run my hands over all the brand-new notebooks, quills, and an array of different pens and pencils. I bounce in the chair as I let out a squeal of excitement.

I mean, this is the library that just keeps on giving. Books, notebooks, pens, secret magical relics, a mystical, Iced-Coffee drinking desk that holds dangerous secrets... Fantasy. Nerd. Heaven. Why the fuck would anyone leave? I'm moving in.

I look up at the small Fae, who stares at me with amusement flickering in her gaze, "You get access to an entire library of knowledge and magical scrolls, and you are excited about notebooks and pens. You are, indeed, what Tir ag Nog needs." She says wryly.

I blink, "you sound like Oberon. Except he is under the impression that my books are smut. The nerve. But now, my pens and notebooks?! I'm starting to think that the Fae are so blinded by pixie dust that they do not appreciate the true magic in this world. It's a shame, really. But I will prevail. With books and pens," I say, basking in the power of my own damn mental knowledge library of supreme, imposter banishing, greatness.

She throws her head back and lets out a peel of laughter, "Oh, young one. You have brought me great joy today. In doing so, I will grant you the gift of my name. Names have power, and as Keepers of the Library, we answer only to Gaia and are not beholden to the rules of having to answer directly to any Queen. I am Elodia. Well met..." She trails off as her body locks up, and her eyes go completely black. She lifts both arms as her voice takes on a breathy, dark, grating tone,

"Beware, seekers of forbidden knowledge and veiled wisdom

For within the hallowed tomes of Dun Leabhar dwell the enigmatic secrets of divine intercession.

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