⋱✧⋰ Bonus Chapter ⋱✧⋰
⋱⌘⋰ Lore Scrap ⋱⌘⋰
"All libraries have gossip. Some just whisper it in glyph."
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It was technically a quiet day.
The kind of day where the Library only rearranged itself three times before tea. No screams from the vault. No bleeding ink sigils. Just the occasional flutter of whispers playing tag between the shelves.
Which meant, of course, the sorters were bored.
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Finnian POV
Finnian leaned behind a crate of unsorted lullabies, notebook in his lap, quill between his teeth.
He peeked out every so often, sketching a hurried doodle of Eira as she focused on a particularly stubborn binding.
"I think she likes sad songs," he whispered to himself. "Or maybe they like her."
He tried to draw her braid.
The quill blotted.
The whisper he'd accidentally pressed beneath his elbow blinked, unamused, and floated off in a huff.
Finnian chased after it. Eira turned.
Their eyes met.
He froze.
"You saw nothing," he said quickly, clutching the notebook to his chest.
She raised an eyebrow.
He ran.
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Thorn Serel POV
Thorn lay flat on a high floating shelf, arms behind their head, watching everything below through a thin veil of camouflaging glyph-light.
It was a hobby.
Cael had passed the main corridor three times in an hour.
Each time, his pace slowed as he approached the desk where Eira was sorting.
Each time, he said nothing.
"Brood level: seven," Thorn murmured. "Approaching avalanche."
Below, a book spontaneously fluttered open in Eira's direction.
Cael stilled.
Said nothing.
Kept walking.
"Fascinating," Thorn whispered. "Will they ever actually speak?"
The book below closed itself with a disappointed thud.
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Vessa POV
Vessa stood by the edge of Emberleaf Hall with a carefully prepared name balm.
It was standard issue for sorters after traumatic reconstructions, but she'd added a trace of lavender for comfort.
Eira didn't notice her at first.
Vessa cleared her throat.
"This might help."
Eira took it gently. "Thank you."
They stood in silence.
The kind of silence that meant too much.
Then, Eira looked up. "Did you ever have to name someone you loved?"
Vessa's hand twitched around the empty jar.
"No," she said.
It was a lie.
But Eira didn't push.
Later, Vessa found the jar tucked back on her shelf — cleaned, and gently labeled: Thank you.
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Aerin POV
Aerin watched from behind a sorting veil, ink-drop eyes soft.
She'd left another note today.
Hand-folded. Unnamed. Slipped under Eira's tea cup.
It said:
When your hands shake, mine remember steadiness.
You are not alone here.
She never signed them.
But Eira always smiled when she found them.
That was enough.
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Cael POV (barely)
He paused again at the edge of the desk.
Eira looked up.
He nodded.
She nodded back.
Something shifted in the air.
Books tilted.
Whispers hushed.
They said nothing.
But somehow, everyone else noticed.
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To be continued…
⸻ ❖ Archive Fragment ❖ ⸻
Some stories bloom in the margins.
⋱◈⋰ End Chapter ⋱◈⋰