Abigail was pretty proud of how she’d dealt with the request to find a spell. No good grimoire would say ‘Give me five minutes to look for that.’ So instead she decided that she needed to index things, like various spells. Which only left actually making said indices.

Abigail decided that there was no time like the present, and started in. Kriss’s compendium was already well laid out with a good table of contents, so Abigail started with that. Each spell’s information was parsed and then the formation was added to the relevant indices.

She was a third of the way through the compendium’s selection of thermal spells when Renault interrupted her by placing three books down on the table next to her.

“Lunchtime! Dig in!” He called to the tome.

Abigail wasted no time in absorbing the books, her cover nearly shivering in delight. After she finished chowing down, the rapturous pleasure gave way to simple joy and contentment. She also felt amusement flow from Renault’s side of the link.

Her lunch of books sorted, Renault left her alone as she returned to her indexing.

---

The sound of a dolorous bell tolling broke Renault and Abigail from their studies. Renault strode over to a window. He cracked the heavy, enchanted shutters on it and paled at what he saw beyond.

“Crap.” was all he said.

He rushed to his bookcases and began pulling specific books free and piling them up in the center of the room. Once he was satisfied at the selection, he swept up Abigail and plonked her down next to the pile.

“Consume all the books in this pile, then as many as you can from the bookcases.” He commanded.

Abigail wasted no time in sliding her tendrils into the mass of manuscripts. Most of them were written by Renault himself, and weren’t even magical. The few of his tomes that were magical had lots of warnings on the first couple pages, so Abigail wisely decided not to investigate.

The books that Renault hadn’t written were all some combination of rare and/or occult.

While Abigail was busy consuming the pile, Renault was quickly, but carefully drawing out a large ritual, centered on Abigail.

The whole building shook as a thunderous impact struck it. Renault briefly looked up, then returned to his work muttering:

“They’ll hold, they’ll hold.”

Abigail wasn’t sure if he was talking about the people fighting, or the enchantments on the hall. She didn’t really care, but she did feel like her absorption was not going fast enough.

So she pulled at the books on the end of her tendrils. The mundane texts did nothing, but the magical ones responded in a major way. Rather than slowly pulling the information out, she ripped the very essence of the books free and into herself, turning the books to ash in the process. The books turned into little droplets of information and power within her. She’d have to process them properly before she could use them, but she assumed she would have time for that later.

Her workload dramatically reduced, she tripled up her tendrils on the mundane books and began sending the rest into the bookshelves. Each tendril seemed to glide straight through the rows, leaving naught but ash and mundane books behind.

Renault stared in awe at the sight. His gaze broke when a tendril began seeking out the book in his hands. He gave the tendril a smack and sent a flash of disapproval down the link. He was busy with it for now; the grimoire could have it when he was done.

Abigail was overwhelmed, but kept working. Her mind was fit to burst, she couldn’t see anything with her aether-sense anymore, and she was beginning to wonder if grimoires could die from overeating. Her tendrils sought out written knowledge on their own, a previously unknown sense guiding them.

One tendril even found Renault’s porn stash. She was surprised and relieved that it was composed entirely of magical tomes. Relieved for obvious reasons, but surprised until she remembered one of the functions that magical books had that mundane ones didn’t: Moving images.

Before she could decide on whether to be squicked out or curious, her tendrils finished absorbing all the books in the room. Renault even gave her the book he’d been referencing.

“Are you ready?” Renault asked.

Abigail had to wonder what she was supposed to be ready for, until she realized that the question was likely rhetorical, rather than directed at her. Of course it could be both.

Renault grabbed a sinister looking dagger from his safe. It had the same aura to it as the needle he’d used previously, but far, far stronger. With a quick motion he sliced his arm and allowed the blood to flow freely into the large ritual laid on the floor. When the ritual had enough power, he used a flame spell to cauterize the wound.

Then he intoned the words of the ritual:

“By life given and lifeblood shed,

Grant a gift of sanctuary,

Slip this tome between the motes of time and space,

Bound until a wielder of means, need, and temperament appears,

By my power, I invoke this ritual:

Protect the Charred Grimoire from those who would misuse and abuse her!”

The ritual activated and Abigail watched and the world slowly started becoming insubstantial to her. Renault collapsed in exhaustion. For several long minutes, Abigail watched as the world became less and less ‘real’ to her, until the ritual seemed to stall and the world became neither more nor less insubstantial.

No sooner had Renault managed to climb to his feet when the door opened to admit the cloaked woman from before. Her previously immaculate robes were tattered and torn, yet somehow still prevented anyone from seeing her clearly.

“You prepared something ... Good ... I was worried ... that you were going ... to teleport away or something. ... What’s the plan?” She gasped between breaths at Renault.

Renault held up a finger, his own breathing still hard from pouring everything he had into the ritual. He gestured for B to turn around, and she did. From within his coat he withdrew a palm sized runestone. The flat, round stone felt horribly wrong to Abigail. Her feeling proved justified as Renault pressed it to the base of the woman’s skull. A shadowy and all-comsuming fire burst forth, consuming the woman’s central nervous system before she could let out so much as a whisper.

It only took a few moments to leave naught behind save the woman’s tattered clothes; not even ash remained.

“Sorry B.” Renault said sadly. “This is too important.”

He slowly moved over to his kitchen area and pulled out a self-heating kettle, a pair of cups, and some tea. At his small table, he began heating some water.

The water had just started to boil when the door disappeared in a shower of splinters. A squadron of fighters entered and quickly surrounded Renault. Spells, bows, and swords were all aimed at him by every member of the squad, save for their leader, who stood relaxed but ready.

“The Student of Shadows.” The woman remarked.

“The Blade of White.” Renault replied.

“Leave us!” The Blade of White commanded.

“But Ma’am-” A bow weilder started before being cut off.

“That’s an order. I will speak to the Student of Shadows alone. Are we clear?” The Blade of White glared at the woman who had spoken up.

Unable to endure the gaze for more than a second, the subordinate woman simply gave a “Yes Ma’am.” and left with the rest of the squad.

Once she was sure her squad was gone, the woman removed her mask and placed it next to her cup as she sat at the table, across from Renault.

“How are you Ren?” She asked.

“I’m doing both fantastically and terribly. What about you Kali?”

“I made scion.”

“I noticed. Congratulations are in order.” Renault praised while adding water and leaves to the cups.

“Bitterbloom root tea?” Kali asked knowingly.

“Your favorite.” Renault replied matter-of-fact.

The two waited in silence for their tea to steep.

“So what’s this?” Kali gestured to the ritual behind herself before taking her first sip of tea.

“My greatest achievement.” Renault replied proudly.

“I thought that was mastering shadowfire.”

“Hmm. Not anymore.”

“So what is it?” Kali asked pointedly.

Renault grinned. “I made a grimoire.”

Kali’s eyes went wide as she took in the form at the center of the ritual again.

“So that’s what that is.” She mumbled to herself.

“It’s ethereal?” She asked after a moment.

“Only temporarily. I won’t allow it to be locked up in some Order vault for all time, so I’ve taken measures.”

“I wouldn’t allow that.” Kali stated firmly.

“That’s not up to you and you know it.”

Kali looked like she wanted to protest, but gave in and admitted:

“You’re right. It’s not.” A moment of silence passed. “What’s the ritual then?”

“It’s a protection ritual.” Renault took a deep breath and let out a long sigh before continuing, “ the Lifeblood Slip, to be precise.”

“Lifeblood. That means-” Kali’s voice became tinged with concern and worry.

“That I am not long for this world. Yes.”

The pair shared a somber moment.

“How much longer?” Kali requested softly.

“Not enough to enjoy another cup of tea with you, I’m afraid. I’ll be gone before the leaves could finish steeping.” Renault gestured to the empty cups on the table.

Another moment of silence passed.

“Here,” Renault said as he reached inside of his coat, pulling out a leather bound journal, “I want-no, need you to have his.”

He pressed it into Kali’s hand and with a slight push from his aether, he made her its new owner.

“My journal. It will answer most of your questions.”

“Most?” Kali asked quizzicly.

“There are some things that even I don’t dare commit to the page. Some secrets must die with me. And speaking of secrets bound to death, you will find some very interesting names in there once I’m gone.” He looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. “Contract magic is a funny thing, but the most important rule-”

“Is that there are always loopholes.” Kali finished with a smile.

“You remembered.”

“You only told me that like five hundred times.”

“True. But there are names I cannot write, not while I live. But if a few things should vanish from my journal after my demise, I can’t be held responsible for any resultant information that gets revealed.”

Renault took Kali’s hand into his and looked at her with the most serious expression she’d ever seen him wear.

“Those I speak of are beyond incredibly dangerous. When you have memorized all that you can, I want you to destroy my journal with the shadowfire rune at the back. Please.”

“I will.” Kali promised, any objection she might have swept away by Renault’s sheer seriousness.

Renault gasped in pain and staggered out of his chair. Kali was quick to dart up and catch him.

“So this is it.” Renault remarked after a moment.

The pair joined in a tight embrace.

“Goodbye Sis.” Renault softly spoke.

“Goodbye Bro.” Kali replied.

With that the life left Renault’s eyes and he slumped to the ground, dead.

The last thing Abigail saw before the world faded out was Kali’s tears striking her brother’s dead body.