As Catherine strolled down the bustling street, she surreptitiously snagged a meat bun from a nearby stall, delighting in the savory aroma and soft texture as she nibbled away. The sky above was awash with a stunning array of sunset hues, all blending together. The throngs of glitchen around her just carried on with their lives, oblivious to the stranger in their midst.

She was thirsty, but knew that this feeling seeping into her senses was not her own. Whispers of almost-words had begun to fill the back of her mind. She had to be careful as she chewed, lest the sword trick her into biting her tongue just to taste the blood.

As Catherine continued down the street, the sight of a statue caught her eye. It was a towering figure, crafted from gleaming marble and perched atop a pedestal of obsidian. The creature it depicted had four wings; one set was feathered, like those of a bird, while the other was leathery and membranous, more akin to the wings of a dragon or bat.

Catherine froze in her tracks, unable to tear her gaze away from the statue. She realized—this was the same kind of creature that she had seen on the beach.

Catherine's heart raced as she stepped closer, unable to shake the feeling that there was something familiar about it beyond her brief glimpse of the one from before. As she drew near, she felt the cool marble beneath her fingertips, smooth and polished to a shine. It was then that she realized that she knew how it would move, as if she had seen something like this up close. But where? Was it a lost memory, or something from her imagination? The thought sent shivers down her spine, and for a moment, she felt as though she were losing her grip on reality.

As if sensing her confusion, the statue's panther-like head turned to fix her with an intense, almost human gaze.

Catherine gasped, taking a step back in alarm. The shock had brought her to her senses, and she saw that the statue remained in the same position she found it in, frozen in time. The head had not turned at all.

"I'm starting to hallucinate," she said, and looked down at her sword. "Is this your doing?" She turned her attention back to the statue.

At the coast—from a distance, in the dark, and distracted as she was—she could not see much of the creature. Now, she saw that the creature was very human in shape, but with digitigrade legs. Its muscular body was covered in scales. It was an odd sight, and yet, there was something about the creature's unblinking stare that tugged at a part of her that was long buried.

"Is this where you're from?" she asked the statue. "Is this where you took… her?"

She stepped away. It couldn't be that easy. And yet…

She thought of what Shira said.

With a final glance at the statue, Catherine turned on her heel and continued down the street with heightened senses and newfound resolve. She had a person to find, and nothing would stand in her way.

"What am I going to do if I actually find her, though?" she asked Katherine. The sword sent a wave of thirst in response. She sighed. "Of course you just want to drink her."

Catherine's eyes followed the scurrying of rats down a narrow alley, and a spark of inspiration ignited within her. The streets here were paved. A little chalk and all of the local vermin would soon be her personal spies.

But where could she find chalk? Did glitchen even know what that was? She looked around, trying to spot a shop or market, but the winding streets seemed to offer nothing but mystery and confusion. This was the first time she had ever been in a non-sapien village. Or any village at all outside of her lost home.

As she wandered, Catherine took note of the various creatures going about their business, each with their own unique quirks and uses. She saw a couple of furred creatures with long tails and sharp claws fighting over discarded fruits, while a pair of crows watched overhead. Even as a stranger, she could thrive here. All she needed was something to make her sigils.

It would help to know what the glitchen used as currency. Did they even have currency? She realized that she needed to find out at least that before she could even think about buying anything. She looked around, trying to spot a sign or symbol that might give her a clue. But everything was in a language she couldn't read, and she felt like a fish out of water.

With a sigh, Catherine resigned herself to the fact that she would have to find help. She straightened her back and scanned the streets.

A little boy walked down the street with purpose, and she followed a bit, waiting until no one was looking before she asked, "Excuse me, where are your parents?"

"What's a parent?" he replied.

"Never mind then," she said, and asked, "Do you know where I can buy some chalk?"

The little boy looked up at Catherine with suspicious eyes, studying her carefully. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke up.

"Chalk?" he asked.

"'Tis powdery stuff you draw on the ground with," she explained, pointing at the dusty pavement beneath their feet.

"Oh!" He exclaimed, and Catherine was relieved that he seemed to understand what she was looking for. "I don't know where to buy it," the boy said, "But you can probably find some in the market. It's where most of the traders sell their goods."

"Thank you," Catherine said, smiling down at the boy. "Do you know where the market is?"

The boy nodded and pointed down the street. "Just follow this road until you see the big tent. That's the market."

Catherine thanked him again and set off in the direction he had indicated. As she walked, she couldn't help but wonder about the boy's answer to her question about parents. Was he just being a smart-ass, or did they use a different word? It was yet another reminder of just how different this village was from her own.

Catherine arrived at the market to see that everyone was winding down for the night, but pressed on. Her eyes were drawn to a woman sitting on a mycelium bench, reading a thick leather-bound book. She was completely engrossed in its pages, oblivious to all around her.

Catherine felt a pang of envy as she watched the woman's focused expression. It had been so long since she had been able to lose herself in a good book. She had always loved the way the pages felt beneath her fingertips, and the smell of ink and paper.

She approached the woman. "Excuse me," she said softly, "Do you know where I can find anyone selling chalk?"

The woman looked up from her book, startled, but quickly composed herself. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, smiling warmly. "I didn't hear you approach. Let me think... Yes, I believe there's a vendor a few stalls down, on the left-hand side."

"Thank you," Catherine said. She couldn't help but glance at the book the woman held in her lap. It was ancient-looking, with yellowed pages and intricate illustrations. "That's a beautiful book."

The woman's face lit up. "It is," she said, holding the book out for Catherine to see. "It's a collection of spells for making a garden. I'm thinking of starting a new hobby."

The color had drained from Catherine's face. "You…" She had to catch her breath. "You're just sitting here reading a spellbook? In public? Where anyone can see?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" the woman asked, and offered the book to Catherine. "Would you like to read a bit?"

Catherine hesitated, looking around to see if anyone was watching. It could be a trap, but the temptation was great. "I couldn't," she said, trying to sound polite.

"Nonsense," the woman said, pushing the book towards her. "It's always a pleasure to share spells with others."

Catherine accepted the book, feeling a rush of forbidden excitement. She opened it to a random page and began to read. The spells within were useless to her, a separate avenue of magic not under the umbrella of Conjuration. But they were genuine. To be caught even glancing at such a thing in Misyrea would risk death.

"Where did you find this?" she asked.

"That one is just from the library," the woman answered.

Catherine handed the book back to her. "Do they have many spellbooks at this library?"

The woman nodded. "Oh, yes. Are you new to magic? They have much there for beginners as well. The librarians can point you in the right direction."

Catherine was practically drooling. Her heart raced. Her mind was filled with possibilities. "Do they have much about Conjuration?"

The woman's laughter tinkled like the music of a distant brook, her mirthful tone belying the gravity of the situation. "Oh, all of that is far too advanced for a beginner, but yes. It's the foundation of glitchen magic, you know. They even have the personal grimoires of some of the greatest glitchen conjurers," she said.

Catherine's legs threatened to buckle beneath her as she struggled to maintain a façade of calm. "Where is this library?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It's just down that street," the woman pointed not far from the direction Catherine had come from. "Can't miss it. It's the grandest building in Jastria."

Catherine thanked her and quickly made her way towards the library, her quest for chalk all but forgotten.

Her heart was pounding in her chest with anticipation. She had never imagined that she would find such a treasure trove of magic. As she walked, she couldn't help but think of the possibilities that lay ahead.

"I'm going to be a god," she said, blankly.

But her euphoria was tempered by a sense of unease, a suspicion that something was amiss. It seemed too easy, too convenient. She stopped in her tracks, fear taking hold. Was the security too great? Or were the books cursed, waiting to ensnare her in their pages? There was no way it was this easy. After how long she had struggled, it couldn't be.

Something was about to go wrong. It had to.

Had she died in the myst, and this one last, sweet dream was what her mind gave her as she slipped away?

Jastria! Catherine thought. She said Jastria! I'm on Mt. Kaila! It had been obvious since Shira said the word glitchen, but her mind had been avoiding the thought. The distance she had covered in one night was incredible.

Despite her trepidation, she pressed on, more cautiously this time. This couldn't be real, but if it was, she knew the world wouldn't simply hand her the keys to unlimited power. She gripped her sword hilt, ready for whatever obstacles lay ahead. Too much had fallen into her lap, and her luck was sure to run out.

She passed another statue of the four-winged creature.

Before she knew what she was doing, her sword was drawn. Thankfully, the street was empty. She turned to face the statue.

"What are you?" she demanded. And stepped up to it. "Why are you here?" She pointed her sword at its face. "This isn't about her, is it? This is about you. You have a secret to tell me."

She sheathed the blade without taking her eyes off the statue. "I know secrets," she said. "I've been collecting them for my entire life. I know where to find them. You, you're the key to something. I can smell it."

She continued down the street, but kept her eyes on the statue until she was a good distance away.

"Maybe the library will tell me. And if it's a trap, then 'tis time to have a drink, do you agree?"

Her sword seemed to shake in anticipation.