Abigail wasn’t sure how long she’d been hidden away between the motes of reality that made up everything. Time itself was a strange and nebulous thing in the strange not-space. And once she’d finished growing her new cover, all she could do was read and watch from time to time.

Every now and then, Abigail got a glimpse of someone passing by her hideaway. Each satisfied at least two of the trigger conditions, but none had satisfied all three.

And then someone appeared who did. She possessed an aura filled with Aether, providing the means. She was not someone who would abuse Abigail or the power granted by a grimoire. And lastly, she was in dire need of Abigail’s help, for she was being chased by some very unsavory looking people.

The spell that held Abigail began to unravel, and soon she was unceremoniously dropped into the middle of the ruins of the hall of her birth as a grimoire. The roof had long since collapsed, leaving the room exposed to the sky. The walls were beginning to crumble as the enchantments finally started to fade. Critters had made homes, and nature rose. Vines, moss, shrubs, and even a small tree all grew within the space.

‘Oh color, how I’ve missed you! Even if it’s just lots of green and brown.’ Abigail sang in her own head.

Happy that her Aether-sense color perception addon was working, she began working on the next thing on her list: movement. Which turned out to be as simple as channeling a levitation spell she’d learned from Renault’s notes. It worked by extending tendrils of Aether into the environment, which could push and pull on the surroundings. This improvement over traditional ‘push only’ levitation spells let Abigail scale the walls for a quick and easy exit. With a traditional levitation spell, she’d have had to rely on good old physics; launching herself onto a ballistic trajectory and hoping she didn’t land somewhere bad.

Instead she glided down the outside of the wall and moved into a swift glide along the ground. She knew exactly where her potential wielder was, and that she had a little less than an hour to form a bond before the ritual took hold again.

Gem hid inside a hollow of fallen timber, trying to get her breathing under control. She was no match for the men chasing her; they had bested her mother, an accomplished sorceress, and Gem could only cast a few basic spells, none of which had any combat utility at all.

No, Gem only had three options: run, hide, or be captured. These weren’t simple bandits or raiders who would use her and leave her. These monsters in the guise of men were slavers. Exotic slaves fetched a high price, and half-demons like Gem and her mother even more so.

Gem had run all she could, so she could only hide. And if and when they found her-

Gem’s fingers traced the handle of her dagger at her side-

She did have a fourth option, terrible as it was.

When a black rectangular object thumped to the ground next to her, it took all her willpower not to jump and scream. After her heart rate dropped back to more acceptable fear levels, she cautiously picked up the strange object. It was a book unlike any she had seen before. The cover and spine were covered in a layer of hard black scales. The front held the image of a sleeping drake in grey. The faces where the pages should have been visible were blocked off by images of drakes sleeping intertwined with one another.

Then something that Gem never imagined that she’d see happened: a Notification of the Realm appeared to her.

The Charred Grimoire has accepted you as its wielder. Do you accept the bond and all that it entails?

Gem was stunned. There were two types of Notifications of the Realm. Achievement Notifications, in which the world itself recognized a feat that had been performed, and Artifact Notifications, through which artifacts could make and break their bonds with their users.

And an artifact grade grimoire had decided to allow her to wield it.

Everyone always wondered what it would be like if an artifact chose them. Nevermind the fact that the odds that anyone other than royalty or the powerful few would ever even set eyes upon an artifact, let alone have the potential to be selected by one.

And while Gem would have normally declined the offer in her regular life, her regular life was now gone. So she did what anyone in her situation would do.

“I accept.” She softly intoned.

You are now the wielder of the Charred Grimoire.

Its powers are now yours to command, and its needs yours to fulfil.

The black tome came to life. All along its sides the dark grey drakes opened their eyes to reveal shining gems of every color of the rainbow. They untangled themselves and separated to reveal the white interior. The eye of the drake on the cover flew open to reveal an ethereal violet light. Finally the covers parted to reveal the smooth white surface inside.

Gem could only stare dumbfounded at the words that appeared on the page.

Hi there, I’m Abigail, and I’ll be keeping you from dying today!

Unlike Renault, her new wielder could not make use of the psionic link Abigail had enjoyed with the man. And while Abigail had been concerned that the powerful wizard could have unmade her if she turned out ‘wrong’, Gem certainly couldn’t harm her. The worst the girl could do was break off the bond and send Abigail back to the weird place between worlds.

That ritual had failed to end properly and now clung to Abigail like a curse. It was going to take a lot of research on her part, and a powerful spellcaster willing to help her, to get rid of it.

But at the time, Abigail had a much more pressing issue to deal with. Namely keeping Gem alive and free for the foreseeable future.

“What in the Abyss? I thought you were named ‘The Charred Grimoire’?” Gem muttered in befuddlement.

I consider that to be more of a title than a name. Kind of like ‘Abigail, The Charred Grimoire!’

“What’s with that name-err, title-anyway?”

That’s probably because I have PTSD from almost dying in a library fire before I became a grimoire.

“Pea Tee Ess Dee?”

| Post-Tramatic Stress Disorder can occur as a result of being subjected to, or even simply witnessing a traumatic event or events. It can manifest in many ways, including (but not limited to) anxiety, difficulty sleeping, night terrors, disassociation, or hallucinations. In my case, it manifests as an extreme aversion to fire, even though I’m a fireproof book. Theoretically, at least, as I haven’t tested it, but I should be completely immune to anything less than full-fledged dragonfire. That said, I will not be helping you with fireballs or other flame spells.

“Mom always said that fire spells are more trouble than they are worth.”

Smart woman. Speaking of PTSD though, I’d love it if we could get some books on therapy, and maybe a therapist for you. You are definitely going to have some shit to unpack after all this.

Gem nodded distantly.

“I want to save my mom.”

We can work on that, but first we need to save you. Incidentally, you wouldn’t happen to be able to use premade spell formations, would you?

“I think I can. Why?”

We have incoming. I’m going to put a spell up for you, but don’t light it off until I tell you to, ok?

“O-kay.” Gem confirmed, unsure.

A spell formation appeared on Abigail’s surface. Gem started to feed aether into it, slowly at first but gaining speed as she got used to filling it. Abigail also added her super-pure aether, nearly tripling the power in the formation.

When the formation was full, Abigail told Gem to wait. Slowly but surely the evil men were closing in on their position, but Abigail had patience. She’d wait for the best possible moment to unleash her selection of arcane weapon.

Gem was starting to get jumpy, able to hear the men as they got closer.

NOW

Abigail’s surface shifted from white to red, with her message visible on every free inch of page. Gem barely hesitated before twitching her finger through the trigger point. The energy flowed out, the thick snake becoming a meter wide toroid centered on Gem and Abigail. The aether condensed into hundreds upon hundreds of small kinetic darts. After a moment the ring of impending doom began to spin in the air, like the world’s deadliest hula-hoop.

Then everything in a hundred meter radius was riddled with holes from shin to neck height. Even more substantial was the damage at the epicenter. Everything within twenty meters had been obliterated by the hail of deadly darts.

Ok, we need to go now. It’s not safe here and we don’t have the aether to pull that level of spell off again.

Gem didn’t see Abigail’s message though, transfixed by the sheer destruction they’d just unleashed. Then the smell hit. For once Abigail was thankful for the lack of that particular sense, thus she was spared the coppery scent of blood and the foul stench of ruptured and voided bowels.

Gem, however, was not. The poor girl was quickly overcome and her body responded the only way it could: by ejecting the contents of her stomach through her mouth.

‘Oh yeah, I guess it is pretty gristly. A dozen men cut down in an instant. It doesn’t bother me though.’ Abigail mused to herself, then metally shrugged. “Must just be due to me being a book now.”