In the library hall, the princesses were reading and writing together at a table, with a lot of thick volumes in front of them. Only another person was present, an old elf lady, the librarian.

“Do you have any idea where’s Istaìnn?” asked Feyra.

“Istaìnn up, Istaìnn down, all the time. You two are like two doves. Isn’t he a boar, daring to dislike the noble elves?”

“He is…” sighed Feyra. “I cannot be a friend to such a man… He’s just… rude.“

“Then why are you always searching for his presence, sis? He’s trying his best to train in magic, and you are always bothering him. Why, if you don’t want to be his friend anymore?”

Her sister looked down, ashamed.

“Oh, Providence! I understand now. The iceberg had melted! You hate him for being stubborn, but when he ceases to be your friend, he becomes more. You want this boar to sweep you from your feet, isn’t it so? The queen of ice finally wants to be kissed and know love. Ah, finally! I thought you’ll be an old maid forever.”

“Shut up! Shut up!” shouted her sister. “You don’t understand! I don’t want this! I want passion to be calm, like friendship. I want the desire to be tame, easy to control! It’s not me, this is not me!”

“Shush! Be quiet in the library!” asked the old librarian, although nobody was there. The girls continued the discussion in whispers.

“No, you don’t,” argued Heyra. Friendships you always got in spades. I cannot count the number of intelligent men who courted you. Scientists, artists… all for naught, because that polite courtship couldn't melt the Queen of Logic, the Queen of Ice. But now, when you’ve met a real man who dares to keep to his opinions, you are done for. Yet you are torn between your scorn and desire. You fail to realize a real man has its own personality, the right to disagree with you. You don’t seem to understand his actual value, sis! Maybe you’re not worthy of him.”

“Oh, so now that you two agree on something, I do not see his value, and you do? You didn’t even notice him before he agreed with your whims. This means war, sis. This means war!”

“Shush! Here he comes!”

The object of their discord had entered the reading hall. He sat heavily on a chair between them, sighing.

“This training is killing me,” he confessed. “Did you know Quenya has ten cases? The grammar is killing me. And literally, Faredhiel says that magic can kill if you say the wrong case in Quenya. How on Realm they can have ten cases yet so few words? Today it was grammar day all morning, and tomorrow it will be meditation again. That’s even worse. Sitting immobile for four hours!”

“SHUSH!” said the librarian.

“But does it work?” asked Feyra as low as possible.

“I suppose so. Yesterday, in my tenth day of training, a leaf I was meditating upon moved an inch. Maybe it was me, not the wind. But you know the worst? After meditation and grammar, we’ll train in athletics. I’m supposed to do three cartwheels and recite a spell. While meditating. The only thing that keeps me going is Faredhiel. To be honest, he’s a very dedicated teacher. I might have misjudged him. But this magic stuff it’s hard, so damn hard!”

“Don’t give up! It will be all right!” said Feyra, putting her hand on his.

“DON’T!” he jumped, pulling his hand. “Don’t you remember? If I take your life force, you might become…”

“A mummified carcass,” said Heyra with disdain. “Go on, take her hand; I’m willing to take the risk!”

“What do you mean?” he asked, perplexed, but Feyra didn’t wait until he finished his words and stuck her hand again on his, firmly.

“It does not matter. I trust you with my life. I know you are unable to hurt me!”

Heyra rolled her eyes but counter attacked. She put her own hand over his free hand.

“I trust you too!” she hissed, confronting her sister eye to eye.

“Iiiih! Can you trust me more gently?” he squealed. “Your fingernails are so sharp!”

Still dueling with their eyes, they took off their hands.

“So, how are you?” he asked. “Any clue about the Others?”

“Not really,” complained Feyra. “Here, this is the oldest history book they have in their library,” she showed him a volume, “ I’ve read it almost twice. Nothing about the Others.”

He took the book, written on vellum, went through a few pages, tried to put it back on the table but missed. The book fell on the floor with a loud noise, immediately followed by a “shush” from the librarian. Picking back the book, he whispered.

“I forgot! We must go to our room, there is something important you need to see! Please!”

His tone was quite intense, so they followed, letting their books opened on the table.

Once in the room, Heyra asked him.

“What’s to see? I don’t notice anything out of the ordinary.”

“This!” he said, extracting the old book from his jacket.

“You’ve stolen a book from a library? That’s totally unforgivable!” Heyra scolded him. “I’m starting to get a liking for you, but if you want us to be more than friends, you have to get it back!”

Even a few minutes before, her remark would have made him faint. Now, he just dismissed her words with a wave of his hand.

“This book is magic! It called to me! I heard it in my mind. And it stung me like a static electricity discharge. That’s why I took it. I’ll put it back after we examine it.”

He turned the book up and down, looking at it closely, then, to the girls' horror, he took out a pocket knife and tore the cover.

“Aaaaaa!” the princesses gasped, then “Huh?” they exclaimed afterward, and “What’s that?”

That was a piece of something impossible, a thick sheet made from a semi-transparent material, folded in four, transforming into a larger sheet when unfolded, and not keeping any trace of creasing. In its middle, it had engraved a small triangle. He put the sheet on one bed, and they gathered around it.

“You think this is magic?” asked Heyra. “What can it do?” she asked.

Curiosity made her touch the triangle with her index. Suddenly, a face appeared on the sheet.

“Greetings,” said a man with an energic face and grey hair.

“Who are you?” asked Heyra, but the man just continued to speak.

“This is the summer of the year one hundred twenty-nine after Arrival and the third after the Catastrophe. The magic interface has been all but destroyed, and I have to go far to the north-east of the Continent, to find a pocket of the old magic. It is hilarious because I don’t need it usually, but in this case, the interface is paramount. My mission is hard, and I don’t want these memories to be lost if I fail, so I will let it with the elves. These recordings are memories of our past, before and after the Arrival, memories of my father, before I was born, and of me, after. For us, these are precious memories. I hope you’ll think the same. So long, scholars of the future. You know the drill, press play.”

The face disappeared, and the triangle appeared again.

“Three years after the Catastrophe! Providence! This is a recording over one millennium and six hundred years old!” exclaimed Feyra. “This the real deal, real elven technology!”

“I doubt it’s elven, sis!” said Heyra. “But this is amazing! Go on, press that triangle again.”