The Academy at night was somehow both more and less magical than during the day. The usual impossible architecture was shadowed now, creating silhouettes that seemed to bend and move even when they were still. The ambient magic that caused small light displays and floating objects during daylight hours was subdued, but in its place was a kind of anticipatory hum, as if the building itself was dreaming.
"This way," Gavril whispered, guiding us through a corridor that hadn't been there the day before. "The patrol schedules indicate that Professor Gravitas is monitoring the main halls tonight, but he rarely enters the newer architectural manifestations."
"Newer as in...?" I asked, eyeing the ancient-looking stone archway we were passing through.
"Manifested yesterday," Gavril replied. "The Academy grows and changes constantly. Haven't you noticed?"
I had, of course, but I'd assumed the changes followed some kind of pattern or design. The idea that we were navigating through corridors that the building had essentially dreamed into existence yesterday was unsettling.
"How do you know where we're going, then?" I asked.
Gavril tapped his temple. "Moridian sense of direction."
"He means he bribed a third-year student for a map," Finn clarified from behind me.
Gavril shot him a look. "I negotiated an exchange of valuable information. It wasn't a bribe."
"You gave him your dessert rations for a week."
"Like I said, valuable."
I stifled a laugh, grateful for the momentary distraction from my thoughts. We continued through a series of increasingly narrow passages, the walls occasionally shifting just enough to make me wonder if we were being herded somewhere intentionally.
"Almost there," Gavril whispered, pausing at a junction. "The library entrance should be just around this corner."
"Should be?" I raised an eyebrow.
"It was there this morning," he replied defensively.
I peered around the corner and, to my relief, saw the massive double doors of the Infinite Library. Unlike most of the Academy's architecture, the library entrance remained constant—one of the few fixed points in the constantly shifting landscape.
What wasn't constant, however, was who might be guarding it.
"No one's there," Finn whispered, sounding surprised. "Usually there's at least one upper-year student on duty."
"Lucky us," Gavril said, then quickly glanced at me. "No offense."
"None taken," I muttered, though I couldn't help feeling a twinge of unease. In my experience, unexpected good fortune was often the prelude to spectacular disaster.
We approached the doors cautiously. They were carved from some dark wood with intricate patterns that shifted subtly as we watched. The handles were shaped like outstretched hands, palms up as if offering knowledge.
"How do we get in?" I asked.
"We ask," Gavril said, then addressed the door directly. "We seek knowledge about the Personifications, specifically Liora of Fortune and Probability."
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the carved patterns on the door began to rearrange themselves, flowing like liquid until they formed a message:
Knowledge of Personifications is restricted to Level Three clearance or above.
"Well, that's inconvenient," Finn muttered.
I stepped forward before I could think better of it. "I am directly affected by the domain of Liora. I seek understanding for my own safety."
The patterns swirled again.
Prove connection to a Personification's domain.
I hesitated, unsure how to prove something I barely understood myself. "I... I don't know how."
"Maybe just try something," Finn suggested. "Use your luck."
"I can't control it," I reminded him.
"You don't need to control it," Gavril said thoughtfully. "You just need to demonstrate it exists."
I stared at the door, wondering what I could possibly do to prove my connection to luck. Then, on impulse, I reached out and placed my palm against one of the carved hands.
Immediately, I felt a tingling sensation spread up my arm. The door's patterns began to swirl more rapidly, colors bleeding into the wood, blues and purples and golds that hadn't been there before. The handle beneath my palm felt warm, then hot, then almost unbearably cold.
And then, with a sound like a sigh, the doors swung open.
"Well," Finn said, sounding impressed. "That was easier than expected."
"Too easy," I murmured, but I followed them inside anyway, the doors closing silently behind us.
The Infinite Library was still the same, if an infinite space can be described that way. The space inside was vast beyond what should have been physically possible, with bookshelves that stretched upward until they disappeared from view. Some shelves curved at impossible angles, others floated entirely free of support, rotating slowly. Books of all shapes and sizes filled the shelves, some chained in place, others hovering slightly above their resting spots.
And despite the lateness of the hour, we weren't alone.
Sitting at a reading table near one of the floating shelves, illuminated by a soft globe of light, was a figure with long, light green hair.
Liora.
She looked up as we entered, those impossible eyes widening slightly in what might have been surprise. For a heartbeat, our gazes locked again, and I felt that same strange shift in reality, a moment stretching into eternity.
Then she closed her book with a snap, stood up, and walked directly toward us.
No, not toward us. Toward me.
Finn and Gavril took instinctive steps backward, but I was frozen in place, unable to move as she approached. The air around her seemed to shimmer with potential, reality bending slightly in her wake.
She stopped a few feet away from me, close enough that I could see the subtle variations of green in her eyes, the way her hair moved as if stirred by a breeze I couldn't feel.
"You," she said, her voice like chimes in a fortunate wind, "are becoming a problem."