The time to leave was almost here.
Brakos no longer needed me for the book, and all the preparations were done. Now all that was left was to mentally prepare myself for something I never thought I'd experience—being born again.
Reincarnation. Wild.
We had finalized a few extra details for convenience—things to make my transition into the world of Primus a little smoother and safer.
The first was my mind. To avoid a baby acting like a genius super spy, my mentality would de-mature to match my physical age during the first few years of life.
My core self would still be there, but quietly dormant. My memories would remain sealed until my soul and body grew strong enough to carry them.
For the first three years, I'd just be a baby. A slightly odd one, sure, but not an anomaly. wen I turn 3, my memories would start returning slowly, and my mental maturity would speed up—just enough to avoid suspicion. Not too fast.
No scary child genius vibes, basically.
That wasn't all.
To make sure my new parents wouldn't panic if I said something weird or showed signs of odd abilities, Brakos was going to speak with them directly after my birth. He'd tell them I was blessed by a spirit and had abnormal powers, but I was special and they should work to cultivate that power.
And technically, he wouldn't be lying. I was blessed by a spirit.
Brakos would also ensure that my abilities looked unique, but not alarming. Something rare, but explainable.
This way, if I slipped up or seemed "off," my parents wouldn't assume I was secretly some kind of magical nuke waiting to explode. Instead, they'd think, Oh, it's just the blessing acting up again.
Crisis averted.
While Brakos finished up the last details on the Draconic Book, he gave me two other books to help me adjust to life in Primus. Each was magically bound to me, protected, and came with its own built-in spirit.
Yes, Brakos can make spirits.
Casually. Like it's arts and crafts day.
"They're not sentient," he explained. "More like... semi-intelligent programs that do exactly what you tell them to. Kind of like magical assistants."
"So basically, I get magical Siri and Cortana," I said.
He raised an eyebrow. "You're going to name them, aren't you?"
I shrugged, "Maybe." I said smiling
All three books shared the same core traits:
I'd always know where they were.
Only I could open or write in them.
Each contained a spirit designed by Brakos to manage specific functions.
And later on, those spirits could evolve if I wanted. Which, let's be real—I definitely would. Sentient book companions? That's some grade-A fantasy protagonist material right there.
The Three Books:
1. The Notebook: a magical journal I could document everything—new spells, plants, enemy habits, spirit personalities, random thoughts, cooking recipes, weird dreams—whatever I wanted. The spirit inside could also sort information and organize entries for me. Think of it as an ultra-smart Google Drive, but medieval-fantasy edition.
2. The Appraisal Book: This one let me use the spell [Appraisal], and whenever I used it on something—person, item, monster, plant, the result would be neatly written in the book.
No more forgetting what a rare crystal does or how strong an enemy is. There was a catch, though: the more complex the target, the longer it took. Sometimes hours. Sometimes days. But the results would be extensive and precise.
3. The Draconic Book: The crown jewel. My power as a Primogenitor would be sealed inside until I was ready. When the time came and I opened it, I'd be able to begin shaping my race—my people—from scratch. Physical traits, magical affinities, culture, evolution paths—it would all be written by me, tested through quests, and forged through effort.
The Draconic Book would awaken when Brakos delivered it to me, likely when I turned six or seven. Until then, I'd live like a normal kid, hiding in plain sight.
Well, mostly normal.
Brakos had warned me: if I made my race look too inhuman, the awakening would be... painful. The book would forcibly reshape my body into the new form, and let's just say magical plastic surgery isn't exactly gentle.
So, shapeshifting powers were on the list. High on the list.
Thankfully, several races in Primus should awaken transformation abilities in the near future, hopefully, including werewolves.
If I could analyze them with [Appraisal], I could probably incorporate that into my race and avoid the full-body Ow-My-Bones-Are-Rearranging experience that I am not looking forward to.
Despite all the excitement, I couldn't shake a bit of guilt.
I was moving on. Starting a new life. And even though I knew I'd always remember my family—my first family—it still felt like I was replacing them. Like I was shelving them into a corner of my soul and telling myself, Well, that chapter's over.
It wasn't easy. But I'd come to terms with it. Mostly.
Brakos had promised to check in on them from time to time and keep me updated when my memories returned. I was grateful for that. Even if I couldn't reach back, at least I'd know how they were doing.
Still, I wanted to talk to him one last time before I left.
~~~~~~~~~
"Hey, Brakos?"
He looked up from his chair, where he was flipping through a book on soul-binding rituals. "Yes? Is there a problem?"
I shook my head. "No, not a problem. Just... a thought."
He closed the book, giving me his full attention. "What kind of thought?"
I took a deep breath. This was a little awkward. "Would you be willing to form a contract with me?"
His eyes widened slightly. "A contract? Between us?"
"Yeah. I know you're already helping me with... well, everything. But I was thinking—if spirits can form contracts to help someone in exchange for payment, then... maybe we could too?"
Brakos leaned back in his chair, amused. "And what would you ask of me?"
"I'd like you to be able to visit me. Or even let me summon you when I need help."
His expression turned a little sad. "Jack, I can't leave the Library permanently. I'm bound here. This place is part of me, and I am part of it."
I frowned, but before I could respond, he smiled.
"However," he said, "I can offer you a compromise. I was actually going to suggest something similar before you left."
I perked up. "Yeah?"
He nodded. "I will create quests that come directly from me. Completing them will allow you to earn... call them favours. Each favour can be exchanged for one of three things:
1. You can summon me temporarily to ask a single question about something you can realistically discover yourself, but need help with.
2. I will bring you back here, to the Library, to read one book—something within your soul's current capacity.
3. I will temporarily stop time for you. The world will pause while you act. But only for a moment."
I blinked. "That's... insane. Like, game-breaking levels of useful."
He laughed. "Well, I did say I liked your story."
I grinned. "And what's the cost?"
"You complete the quests I give you. That's all."
I hesitated for a moment. "Isn't that kinda circular? You give me quests, I do them, I earn favours, then use those favours to ask you for help again."
Brakos looked away, clearly uncomfortable. "Normally, yes. But the way your book works… It's complicated. Best not to worry about it."
There was a pause.
"...So long as certain people don't find out," he mumbled.
I raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"
"Nothing!" he said quickly, waving me off.
I decided not to push. He was doing a lot for me. The least I could do was trust him on this.
I took a moment to think it over.
When I decided, I looked up at him and said, "I've made my decision."
He looked up from a scroll. "And?"
"I'll accept your offer. Let's make that contract."
Brakos smiled warmly. He raised his hand, and a glowing spectral scroll appeared above his palm. "Feel free to read it. It'll be good practice for future spirit contracts."
I read through it carefully. The terms were clear, fair, and even had clauses for amendment by mutual consent. The payment was listed as "quest completion," which still felt weird, but I let it slide.
When I nodded, the scroll glowed and vanished into the air.
"It's done," Brakos said. "If both sides are happy, the contract signs itself."
"That's... incredibly convenient."
"And very hard to fake."
I chuckled. "Thanks, Brakos. I'm glad I got to meet you."
He smiled back, a little sad. "Same here. You've been a wonderful guest."
"No," I said. "I've been your friend."
There was a pause. His eyes widened just slightly.
Then he nodded.
"Yes," he said. "You have."