Magic, Madness and Elephants

It was secluded, or as secluded an area as you could get in the Library. Patrons milled about, quiet conversation floating about in hushed tones as they did so, I bit my thumb. Gnawing anxiety worming its way inside me as I put the pen to paper, one side of my mouth sour and bitter with anxiety and the other coppery with the taste of blood. Nail-biting wasn't the best defence against minor anxiety attacks, but if anything it helped. (Despite the numbness afterwards.)

How long was it since I found this place? Some time ago I had opened a door and fallen in, that year was 1987 and now the year and day, like my memory of it was long gone.

"It requires a form of…exchange," the mage said, "All magic does in the end,"

One of the few things that made my stay more salvageable, was the Serpent's Hand, The Library and Solhum.

Currently, it was rattling off a basic understanding of magic in the universe to me, mouth unmoving, small lights in his eyes being the only indicator of his emotional state and there I was, scribbling it down.

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