[PRP] Temporary Library Card (???/Chester)

[Smerdle]

Both Vivien and Jeremiah had mentioned the Library weeks ago, but Chester hadn't come up with a good enough reason to try entering since. He'd even gone so far as to skirt around where the building would be on both sides of Ashdown, concerned that he would be sucked inside or simply tempted to go in before he had made up his mind. He couldn't help thinking of the place as some sort of genie at first, like he'd get one chance to ask Sunday just the right question before he was locked out forever. The question he really wanted to ask was just selfish enough that he was ashamed to try.

As the days went by, he lightened up on the whole genie thing. It was a library. Why would he be unable to research any number of things he wanted? But still he stalled, waiting for some sign that it was time, even as time ran out.

His sign came in the wake of the conference, in the form of news that many seemed concerned about but no one had answers for. The Purge. It was perfect, frankly. He could lead with a question that showed concern about everyone else before bringing it all back around to him.

He was on the mundane side of town when he finally approached, skeptical that this would work from here despite what Vivien had said. Chester pushed open the door, holding his breath as he stepped inside.

shibrogane

 

[shibrogane]

The door opened, and Chester stepped through to a perfectly normal looking library. Despite the fact that it was perfectly normal, it was certainly not the Ashdown Public Library, as Chester might have reasonably expected. It was a strange lobby, the floor blond wood and covered in red carpet, with high windows that looked out on a lightly misty moor.

Across the lobby, there was a single closed door. It creaked open as Chester looked at it.

To the left and the right, massive wings of books lurked like skyscrapers.

Smerdle

 

[Smerdle]

He had been here before and it was appropriately familiar because of it, but that visit had been understandably hectic. He had time to look around now, or he would have had the far door not opened when he gave it his attention.

It was a clear invitation to assistance or death, and he didn't want to miss it.

Chester detoured past the nearest window as he advanced, peering out onto the moor as he debated taking a picture. He avoided the books. If he got lost in them he would be here for the rest of his life.

He pushed at the door.

shibrogane

 

[shibrogane]

Chester found himself in an incredibly familiar anteroom. In this space, cozy and lush, he'd chosen to step through a door into another world. Before, it had been occupied by a woman. Now, it was empty.

The books sat silently on their shelves. Watchers on the walls.

Smerdle

 

[Smerdle]

With no one to stop him, Chester walked silently across the room and ran his fingers across the books' spines. It was a gentle touch, more to see what would happen than to glean information, but in the last milliseconds before he lost contact he remembered intent, and a fleeting, the purge?, crossed his mind.

shibrogane

 

[shibrogane]

The books didn't really react, but the words on the spine changed. Beneath Chester's fingertips, the gold-embossed lettering changed to read: Cycle 18.

Smerdle

 

[Smerdle]

Eighteen. He committed the number to memory, then tried to slowly slide the book off of the shelf.

shibrogane

 

[shibrogane]

And off the shelf the book came.

It wasn't a very thick or heavy tome. It had a table of contents, though, that seemed to be written in some strange dialect of English where nothing made any grammatical sense. The index at the back, though, had six different references to the purge:

Purge, causes of... 55
Purge, list of the dead... 68
Purge, undifferentiated response to... 57-67

...

Nobility, survivors... 67

...

Moonwalkers, post-purge... 97

...

Wargs, post-purge... 98

Smerdle

 

[Smerdle]

He wasn't sure what he had expected to find, but when he couldn't quite grasp the table of contents, Chester ran his hand over the words, trying to use some sort of power to decipher them. When that didn't work, he flipped through the book, eventually ending up at the index. He let out a silent 'ah' when he finally found something he could read, the choices giving him pause. The reasons behind the Purge were surely the most important things here if he meant to find a reason for their collective ignorance or prevent a similar event, but his attention caught on 'undifferentiated' as it tended to do these days, and he narrowed his eyes at the book like it was keeping secrets.

Again, what if he only got one choice? Or three like his genie analogy?

Chester sighed, marked the index with a finger, and turned to page fifty-seven. He would never forgive himself if he didn't look there first.

shibrogane

 

[shibrogane]

Page fifty-seven's discussion of the undifferentiated response to the purge started near the bottom of the page. It was a fairly brisk-paced outline of the weeks immediately following the destruction of the vast majority of the wargs, nobles, and weres of that cycle.

The differentiated had been slaughtered, neatly, identically. A thin knife to the base of the skull, severing the cerebral spine. Replicated on page 58 were several photographs of bloody, matted hair, pulled up to reveal the tiny cuts that had killed them. The wounds were no wider than a staple. The photos flickered out of the corner of Chester's eye.

They'd been left in the town square, a line of solemn bodies. That, too, was pictured: it took up most of page 59. The caption had no names, but gave the date (November 5 2016) and noted that each of the dead was differentiating or beginning to.

Pages sixty through sixty-three discussed the investigation. With one of their lead detectives murdered, the Ashdown Police Department had been forced to call in the Salem PD. The FBI had even taken an interest; the town had been swarmed, forcing the magical community there to carry out their own investigation in secret. It wasn't as effective as it might have been. References were made to how devastated the ranks of the visitors were, how isolated they all became as they tried to avoid becoming the next group slaughtered.

Pages 64 and 65 discussed how they had turned to the four remaining nobles for assistance. Adoelle Nashua, Minerva Mercer, the Burning Man, and the Spinel Lady were all that remained of the differentiated. Michael Mitchell was like a moonwalker, but not close enough to have caught the murderer's attention, and Heliodora had never differentiated anyway. Part of page 65 was redacted: it looked like someone had somehow managed to erase the words from the paper, siphoning the ink away.

Page 66 was devoted to the fact that, shortly before the reset on December 31 2017, one of the visitors had sent out a message to the others claiming that they had found the culprit: the one who had murdered the wargs, the weres, and most of the nobility. When the group met to hear who had done it, however, they found a body burned almost beyond recognition.

Page 67 is a photograph of the deceased.

Smerdle

 

[Smerdle]

After a bit of an awkward juggle of book and bag, he retrieved a steno pad and pen and began to write. How they died, where they'd been left, dates and names and the circumstances surrounding the odd partial erasure of the sixty-fifth page. When he reached page 67, Chester paused then leaned closer to the book, trying to find any distinguishing characteristics that might identify the one they had suspected. Had the man on fire done this? Was it a setup? He really had no way to tell from some picture in a book. All he could do was observe. He hoped he was looking at the right things.

shibrogane

 

[shibrogane]

The note at the bottom of the picture identified it as the visitor who had sent the message claiming to know the identity of the killer. Here, in the archives, there wasn't concern about whether it was for real. Here in the archives, the dead face of Shiloh Beaumont, skin tightened and cracked by heat.

"What're you looking for?"

It wasn't Sunday. It was a young man, short black hair, green eyes. Like an Asian Harry Potter.

Smerdle

 

[Smerdle]

Chester drew in a sharp, surprised breath and turned toward the voice, pen, book, and pad still in hand. When he saw that its owner wasn't a monster or anyone particularly creepy, his shoulders hunched a bit in relief.

"I came here to see if I might find out why the Purge occurred. Why someone would want to kill the differentiated and leave them without the knowledge to be what they are." But now he was just confused. As far as Chester could tell, he was looking at a picture of Oliver.

"I thought some might appreciate knowing how to prevent it from happening again. Although I guess if it was going to, it would have already? These dates... I'm admittedly at a loss."

The worst part was, that even though he was spewing concern and camaraderie, he still wasn't quite sure he actually cared about any of this. All he wanted was for his life to continue on as it was. For the cycles to end. And none of the talk of Charter destruction and recreation that he had ever witnessed had touched on breaking the sigil and leaving his own consciousness alone.

shibrogane

 

[shibrogane]

"You're looking at the response to the purge," said the young man. "But... Do you know if you touch the pictures, you ought to be able to see into them? Like snatches of memory? That might help."

Smerdle

 

[Smerdle]

"Oh. All right." He put his pad and pen back into his bag for the time being. "I won't get stuck in there?"

shibrogane