Marrow opened her eyes, the world coloring itself in shades of gray and blacks, a rapid wave of mana spreading itself over every surface and glowing briefly.

Sitting up, she rubbed at her eye sockets, looking around. She hadn't remembered going to sleep, but she was in Lola's room, lying on her massive pink and lacy bed. Sprawled across the floor spread-eagled, Lola breathed deeply as she slept.

It didn't go over Marrow's head what had happened.

Smiling silently, she slid out of bed and her feet met two soft surfaces. Looking down in surprise, she saw the fuzzy pair of gray slippers just her size, sitting at the foot of the bed. Identical pairs in different colors were placed at Carolin's feet, the young girl snoozing against a dresser, her six-winged snake asleep around her neck.

Sliding her feet into the slippers, Marrow stood and walked over to the door, walking as silently as she could.

Bony?

Startled, she swung around and saw a purple-black poof of feathers rising from by Lola's side. The smooth faceplate looked around curiously, then went back down.

Marrow released her breath in relief, then was unsure as to why she was worried. The Compe-

She slammed her eyes shut, shivering as she forced her breathing to settle, dropping to the ground and curling up in a small ball as the memories hit her.

Being raised from the dead.

Wanting to go back, back to her family.

The book finding a purpose for her.

"You are quite useless, are you not?"

"Do it better."

A final sigh.

"At least the spiders shall have food."

Running as fast as she could, her feet skipping across stone.

Crashing headlong into a crowd of welcoming arms...

Breathing heavily, Marrow stood to her feet and shook the memories away like a bad dream. She was all too familiar with bad dreams, and how to disperse them. She would be fine.

Rubbing her bare arms, she was surprised to discover that she was wearing a sleeveless shirt and long fuzzy pants - pajamas. She lifted the strap to her transparent nose and sniffed it experimentally. She'd never had pajamas before. At least, not that she could remember.

Looking into the mirror, she pulled her floaty gray hair over her shoulders, running her fingers through it to get rid of the tangles and leaving it streaming across the back of her neck, tickling her skin as some of it inevitably slipped down the back of her neck.

She decided to leave the slippers on and went downstairs, one hand running along the gorgeous gold-gilt banister as she padded down the wide slabs of marble. It was an absurdly decadent house, all in all, and Marrow couldn't believe she was allowed to stay.

A strange smell hit her, one that made her mouth water. She swallowed the saliva back and looked towards the source of the smell, curious. She hadn't even known she had saliva or even wanted food, but this incredible scent was making her want to try.

Walking through a pair of doors, her eyes widened as she took in the enormous room spreading out before her, tables and benches assigned to a clear code of chaotic order.

A man at a long bar saw her and smiled widely. "Ah, miss Marrow! Francis had alerted us of your presence here, and your indefinite stay. It's so good to meet you! Would you like to come into the kitchen?"

Tightly gripping the hem of her shirt with one hand, Marrow looked around anxiously, making sure that he was definitely talking to her, then quietly nodding.

With a massive grin, the man opened a trapdoor in the side of bar and stood aside, gesturing to it. Slowly, hesitantly, Marrow stepped through, and he patted her shoulder sympathetically. She jumped a bit at the contact, but slowly relaxed with a nervous smile.

The kitchen was incredibly busy, cooks bustling about in a bee's nest of activity, and her eyes widened.

"Marrow! I heard about you and just had to ask - have you had breakfast yet?"

Startled by the beaming cook before her, Marrow shook her head, eyes wide, and his expression crashed into an exaggerated frown. "We can't have that! Give me just a minute, I'll be right back."

Looking up at the amused expression of the burly man who had let her in, Marrow asked quietly, "Is everyone here this nice?"

He smiled at her once again. "Maybe not everyone, no, but most of us are. You're the guest of honor, miss Marrow! Why would we mistreat you?"

She stared at the ceramic tile floor, determined not to start crying again as her grip on her shirt increased exponentially.

It was only a moment later that the excited cook returned with a metal tray, which he displayed to her with a grin. There was a bun with meat, eggs, and bacon sandwiched between it, and a tall glass with a creamy brown liquid on it. Three slices of bacon sat on the side, and a silver fork rested next to it.

Marrow nearly jumped out of her skin as the cook who had let her in picked her up, depositing her on a stool while the excited cook put the tray in front of her. Transferring her hands to the counter, she stared with wide eyes at the meal, unconsciously drooling a bit.

The excited cook snorted loudly. "Good grief, ma'am, if you're half as hungry as you look you could eat old Gregor here."

The man who let her in - Gregor - frowned at him irritably. "Really? I'm not all that old."

The cook shrugged cheekily. "You're older than me."

Their good-natured squabble faded into the back of Marrow's perception as she stretched her hands out to pick up the bun concoction, examining its warm composition with a slightly worried eye. Her vision wasn't letting her quite make out the details, but it didn't seem to have anything wrong with it.

Closing her eyes, she slid it into her mouth and took a bite, the different layers crunching and squeezing in a remarkably satisfying barrage of texture and taste. Her eyes snapped open, widening as the further tastes hit her tongue like a key change from an orchestra. Swallowing, she looked at the two arguing cooks and said with no small amount of amazement, "This is really good."

The cooks beamed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Staring around her in shock, Marrow took in the tall aisles, the endless rows of books, and the swooping wooden architecture that made her feel like she was in some great ship, solidly berthed at the most stable dock in the world, as if she could delve into these stories and never leave.

"Hm. I take it you're Marrow?"

She looked over to the librarian, still amazed at the scale of the library. "This is amazing."

The librarian preened smugly. "Yes, quite. My name is Beatrice Faxter. How may I be of assistance?"

Marrow looked around cautiously, then leaned forward, whispering, "Do you have any books on liches?"

Beatrice's eyebrow raised ever so slightly, and then she gestured with one hand. A thick black book shot down from the third floor of bookcases, coming to an immediate stop in her outstretched hand. Giving it to Marrow, she asked, "Are you quite sure you want to read that, miss? It's not a pleasant history."

Reaching one hand out, Marrow paused.

Did she really want to know more about the specifics of her race? Liches were commonly known as evil, corrupt magicians that brought themselves back to life for power. She wasn't that kind of person. She knew she wasn't evil, at least, and she didn't care about power.

She was in a giant mansion, with people that genuinely cared about her, and food that tasted good, and a librarian who was concerned for her.

Handing the book back, Marrow told her, "I'm fine."

Beatrice smiled. "That's good."