The next morning brought Syra a splitting headache and a visitor.

"Did you hit the books, or did the books hit you?" asked Ristau from her desk. She hadn't even heard him come in.

"That's not funny," Syra said, massaging her throbbing temples.

"Yes, it is. And what's even funnier, is that I was woken up by your brother lecturing me about keeping you sober."

"He told you?"

Damn it, Cas. It's called a secret.

"Of course, he did. Who else does he know with access to this?"

He snatched the bag of Down from her desk.

"Hey, wait, don't!" She sprang upwards and gripped at the air towards the bag, "I need that."

"Uh-uh," he said, shaking a finger, "One: this is mine. Two: it was my mistake for giving it to you in the first place."

"But you use it all the time."

"Yes, and that's my own burden to break. You have other options, like that protective brother of yours." Grief softened his eyes, "Down may numb the pain, but that makes it even easier to release it on others. And the last thing you need right now is to spit venom at someone who shows the least bit of concern."

She would have retorted, but the Down had left her system and the words she spat at Cassius last night burned her tongue worse than the dry-mouth. She groaned and hung her head. Her chest still ached and burned from where she had removed her soulstone, but she didn't have the energy to explain to Ristau. She certainly didn't want another lecture.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't tell me that," he said, riffling through her papers, "I certainly wouldn't believe you."

His words hit hard and she remained silent.

"And you know what's the worst part?" He paused his shuffling to look right at her, "You knew better. And I know you knew better because you wouldn't have said those things otherwise."

Syra had no excuse to give. Every one that popped into her head she could reason away as being callous, petty, and downright pitiful. A bitter, self-centered brat wallowing in self-pity, that's what she had shown herself to be. So this is what Aidan meant by 'mopiness'.

"What is this?" Ristau broke Syra out of her self-reflection as he looked down on a spelltag similar to the one she had copied from Cassius last night. The runes were different and more complicated, but the structure was the same.

"Progress."

"No-no," he said, pounding a finger on it, "this isn't a counter-spell. This is a shapechanging spell." He leered over at Syra who met his gaze with confidence, "You can't be serious."

"I'm very serious, and all I need now is a power source," she said. "Plus, it made me realize something about Caelus' spell, and why our attempts keep failing."

"Oh, and what's that?"

"That we've been going about it all wrong, for starters. But I can't really get dressed and to go tell everyone with you standing here, now can I?"

Ristau begrudgingly put the spelltag back on the desk.

"Thank you. Now, go and bring everyone to the lab."

***

The seats around the lab table were filled by the time Syra arrived, and all waited anxiously for her news. To her disappointment—but of no surprise—Aidan took the seat next to Sulaer, who watched her enter with both nervousness and excitement.

"So, what did you find?" Sulaer asked, almost bouncing in her chair, "What's this 'realization' Ristau was talking about?"

Syra pushed her insecurities aside and plopped a thick notebook on the table, opening to Sulaer's notes on the powering of Caelus' spell and its general make-up.

"Lanis," she said, looking to the king who was deep in thought, "when we first got here, you said that Kor Lahru's mana spring ran down here, right?"

"Correct, it does."

"You then said that you believed this to be a reason why the disease isn't progressing—why the Lower Tal aren't getting any worse."

"Yes—"

"You're wrong," she said, inciting tension around the table, "At least, I think you're wrong." She pointed at little Leimia who sat quiet by his side, "You are getting worse. Every generation is getting worse. You said that children born here suffer worse deformities if they survived at all."

"Again, correct, but what is your point?"

"I think it's the mana spring that's making them worse, and why we can't find a cure."

Sulaer looked confused, but intrigued and motioned for her to continue.

"We thought all the conditions had to be the same for the spell to be reversed. But you can't counter a curse using something that it draws power from. You'll only be feeding it," Syra explained. "Caelus' spell was powered by the shard—a huge source of mana—so would it not make sense that the disease is also powered by mana?"

"The mana spring is feeding the disease," Sulaer hushed, growing pale.

"Yes, just like using the shard in our trials stops any counter-spell from working. We've been trying to swim upstream."

"So, we do what, exactly?" Aidan asked.

"Stop using the shard, for one," said Ristau.

"Not just that," Syra said, setting a second book on the table and flipping to a sketch of an Arrun tree. "We have to starve it."

***

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Aidan asked Syra as she devoured tome after tome searching for any instructions on how to create a mana-draining potion. "Don't Tal need mana to survive?"

"Not necessarily," said Ristau, who also joined in on the search party. "Unlike Fae or dragons, we've separated from the Mana Flow over time. So, while draining our reserves will severely weaken us, it won't kill us."

"But, you could run the risk of the disease killing us while our bodies are too weak to fight off the infection," said Lanis. He and Leimia had a tower of books each to themselves that had already been looked through.

"So, we'll just have to kill the infection before it kills the patient," said Syra. "Do you have any information on any known cures?"

"Before we get to that, let's focus on weakening the infection first," Sulaer said, nose-deep in her own stack.

Aidan looked around at everyone sitting in a sea of parchment, their eyes red from hours of scouring—even Petra was making progress.

He sighed with drooped shoulders, "I know how to make one."

All heads snapped up from their pages.

"You tell us this now?" Petra yelled.

"I wasn't sure if it fit what you were looking for, and I'm honestly not proud of it."

"What are you talking about?" asked Syra.

"Dragonlances," he said, meeting her gaze, "they're tipped with a poison made from seed husks of the Arrun tree. If concentrated enough, it can kill any magical creature...even dragons. That's why we use them."

Syra bit her lip, "And you know how to make this poison?"

"Yes, " he hesitated, "I helped invent it."

Syra, Petra, and Cassius all stared at him shock.

"Those arrows were made by you?" Petra growled.

"By my alchemists, yes. We were trying to protect the cit—"

"We lost clan members because of you!" Petra seethed but Cassius' grip held her lunge at bay.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have flown so close," Aidan spat back. "We have borders just like you, and that includes the sky. So, you should've just stayed way up in the mountains where you belong and let us be."

"Where we belong?" Cassius asked.

Tension grew with the silence, and Aidan lowered his head with a deep breath, "I'm sorry. That was wrong of me to say."

"Sorry my ass. You meant what you said." Petra's eyes glistened and she shot to her feet, knocking over her stack of books, "I knew we shouldn't have brought you along. You're no different than Marrak, or Larson, or any of the other Black Thorn members. Only caring to act when it suits you best. And to think I was starting to trust you."

"Petra, I'm sorry. I take it ba—"

"Bashta!" she cried, spitting at him, "You're just a lowly pink worm. Altaira's doomed with a king like you."

With that she stormed off, leaving the rest to sit and simmer in her wake. Cassius went to speak but he couldn't bring himself to even look at Aidan, and the four Tal could only watch on as outsiders.

"Where we belong?" Syra repeated, her betrayed eyes digging at him. "After what you've seen your own people do, you still see us as monsters? Even as we sit here trying to help the Tal?"

"It's a hard habit to break, Syra," Aidan admitted. "Those roots run deep and I...I just need time to let them die."

"More time, huh?" She closed her book and stood. "Unfortunately, time is something we don't have. Marrak is moving, and we don't have 'more time' to wait for your scars to fade. We need to know that we can still trust you."

"And you're one to talk about trust?"

"Do not bring that into this," Syra snarled. "Can we trust you fight with us or not? Yes or no?"

"Yes. Of course, you can."

"Good. Now, get to making that vile poison of yours and I'll look into killing the infection for good. Sulaer?" she asked, turning her attention away from Aidan, "Are these all the books you have?"

"No," she said with a twinkle in her eye, "just the ones we know with relevant information. There's also the Grand Library below the academy."

"A Grand Library?" asked Cassius.

"Oh, yes. Omei has the largest library in all the realms and, to be honest, there are scrolls there that even I haven't read yet."

"Take me there," Syra said, her face steeled against the screams that begged to burst out. "We might be able to find more clues on how to kill this thing."

"Sure. There's a whole section on all our medicinal advances."

"Then we'll start there." Syra went to follow Sulaer out of the lab, but stopped abruptly, "Oh, and Aidan?"

Aidan looked up at her, guilt plastered on his face.

"Where I belong, is my choice."

***

Down into the depths of the mountain they went, spiraling down the main staircase. The roots of Mother Tree still reached even this far down, and lit their way past floor after floor. The Medicinal Section was located on the seventh floor and took up most of the sixth wing that branched off of the main staircase.

"So, this is even bigger than the Sylvani library?" Syra asked Sulaer in amazement.

"Just by a floor. But I still like to brag about it."

"Just looking at all these books makes me want to fall asleep," said Petra. The twins had joined Syra after Petra decided she'd much rather read than be stuck in a room with Aidan.

"We can't nap now," Syra said. "Not until we have a solid plan, at least."

"Here," Sulaer said, leading them to sit around a wide, round table off in a cozy nook with a small plant as its centerpiece, "have a seat. I'll warm us up."

Carved from stone and far from the warmth of the city, the Grand Library held a chill. The siblings sat about the table while Sulaer fiddled with the succulent-like plant. Peeling back the cone of leathery leaves revealed a rather plump bulb. She rubbed her hands together and blew on them, as if they were cold. Faint green light appeared between them and she wrapped them around the bulb. In seconds the bulb glowed and then unfurled, releasing a wave of warmth into the nook.

"Much better," said Sulaer, turning back to the bookshelves, "now where to start?"

Book after book they read until their stomachs growled, but still they did not find a solution.

"What about this one?" Petra asked, sliding the open book over to Syra.

"No, this is for a rash so it might not go deep enough. And look, it has runes, so it still needs mana to activate."

"Ugh!" Petra groaned and laid her head on the table, exhausted and hungry, "I thought you said we could find cures down here."

"These are cures," said Sulaer, "they just all require some addition of mana, and that's the opposite of what we need."

"Well, we can't stay here forever. Even you said you haven't read all of these. How are we supposed to?"

"I...I don't know."

"Wonderful." Petra closed her book and left to return it back to the shelf. As she slid it back into place she screamed, dropping the book.

"What is it? What happened?" Syra and Cassius called in unison, running over to her.

"What is that?" Petra pointed an accusing finger and grimaced at the fat grub waving its pincers at them from the shelf.

"It's...it's a worm," Syra said, puzzled. "Sulaer, why is there a worm down here?"

"You are underground, remember?" said Cassius.

"Oh, that's just a bookworm," Sulaer answered, laughing.

"Like, the kind that eat books?" Syra recalled hearing talk of them in Altaira, but had never actually seen one.

"No, not exactly," Sulaer reached over and scooted the worm into her palm, and Petra quivered in disgust. "They eat their memories."

"Come again?" Cassius asked.

"All the memories of all the people that ever read it, even the author. It takes a lot of energy to write a book, and even more is invested by those who pour themselves over one. It's these little fellas that hold on to that energy in the form of memories."

"Wait. So, you're saying these worms hold the memories of all the books in here?" Syra asked.

Sulaer took a moment to answer, "Depends on their age, but yes, it wouldn't surprise me at all."

"Can I see it?" Syra asked, taking the worm from her hand and running back to the table.

"Don't put that thing over there!" cried Petra. "I sit there!"

"It's not going to bite you, Petra," Syra said, setting it down on the table. "I don't think."

Syra took out a piece of parchment and a quill from her bag on the table and began writing.

"A locator spell?" asked Sulaer surprised, looking over her shoulder.

"If that worm has memories of the information we need, then maybe I can find the book it got it from."

Sulaer watched her hands fly over the paper, her strokes a tad sloppy in her hurry.

"Don't rush," she said, stopping Syra's hands a moment, "it won't work as well."

Syra nodded and continued with slower, more precise marks. The script wound around the borders and spiraled inward until only a blank spot was left in the center.

"Now you just need a purpose," said Sulaer.

Syra hesitated. This was always the hardest part. She could learn spells fine, but creating one had always been a hurdle. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, imagining what she wanted and hoped the words would come. And then she wrote.

Locate the tome,

your only quest.

And bring me there,

At my behest.

The bane of plagues,

it acts alone

To restore the body

And make it whole.

"Not bad for your first try," Sulaer said. "Now what?"

Syra picked up the worm and placed it on the page. She balled a fist, charging it with mana that tingled her hand.

"Sorry about this," she said, pointing a finger. She tapped her fingertip to the worm and a spark of electricity jolted the worm, causing it to seize and spit up the juices from its gut onto the paper.

"That's just disgusting," said Petra.

"It's magic," Syra replied, scooting the poor grub off to the side.

"Nothing's happening," Cassius said, watching the paper.

"I'm not done."

Sulaer took a pin from her pouch and handed it to Syra, who pricked her finger and pressed it to the page. The words shimmered as light traced along the spiral of ink until it came to the center.

Please, work, she thought. But nothing happened.

The page still glimmered, but did not move. Syra bent over the paper, analyzing it to see what she could have done wrong, stopping at the small glob of blue liquid just outside the center lines. She blew on it, flicking the glob over into the center.

Blue mingled with red, and then it sparked and glowed. The party jumped as the page twitched and ruffled. Then it folded itself. Over and over, folding and twisting until it formed itself into a bird that flapped and hopped about the table.

"You did it!" Sulaer rejoiced, gripping Syra's shoulders.

"Well, look at that, you did," Petra said, laughing at the paper bird. "What's it supposed to do?"

Syra bent over the table and the bird stared up at her, beak to nose.

"Go," she said, and the bird flew from the table into the air, fluttering on its tiny wings in circles above them.

"Where's it going?" Cassius asked.

"To find the cure."