Page 7 of The Last Remaining Light

Elowynn crossed the lower courtyard beneath a gray Frostwane sky with several books balanced carefully against her chest. The bells of Lumenshire rang their familiar tone overhead as thin veils of snow drifted lazily through the sea fog, while biting coastal wind tugged strands of her hair loose from her braid. She had grown taller over the last turning, though not by much. Sister Maelin claimed her face had changed most, with her cheeks having gained color and her eyes looking brighter.

She pushed open the heavy library doors with her shoulder, and she was greeted promptly by heat that wrapped around her like a blanket. The library beneath Lumenshire Abbey had become her favorite place in the world. It didn't rival Astermere’s grand observatories; the libraries there had been magnificent halls of silver crystal and towering celestial charts suspended beneath vaulted observatory domes. Lumenshire’s library was smaller and much older. Even the halls and alcoves were darker, the glass windows aged by sea salt and time. Yet there was something comforting about it all. Towering shelves curved upward beneath soot-darkened arches while narrow astrylite lanterns glowed between endless rows of books. And there always seemed to be dust motes floating through the golden light.

The air smelled of parchment and tea leaves and candle smoke.

It smelled safe. Secure. It smelled of—

“Late,” an elderly woman’s voice quipped with mild annoyance.

Elowynn startled at the tone. Sister Agatha sat near the center table surrounded by several open books and loose parchment pages covered in annotations. Unlike the other Sisters, Agatha wore no silver veil over her iron-gray hair, which remained braided tightly behind her head. Her shrewd expression and amber eyes were keen enough to make even the elder scholars from neighboring villages visibly uncomfortable whenever they visited the abbey.

Elowynn liked her immediately. There was something about the elder’s sharpness that put her at ease rather than on edge.

“I am not late,” she argued, setting the books down carefully atop the table.

“You kept me waiting,” Sister Agatha said.

“I was carrying six books,” Elowynn retorted, pointing at the stack that was now precariously close to tipping over. She reached out to steady them before they did so.

“And yet… time continued moving regardless,” Agatha droned on.

Elowynn narrowed her eyes, lips thinning toward the elder Sister. “Well, that seems inconsiderate of it. Can you make it wait a bit longer next time, please?”

Agatha lifted one brow while peering over the rim of her spectacles. “You argue like a scholar already. An admirable attempt. Wrong. But admirable.”

Elowynn eased into the chair across from her with all the dignity she could manage. “Father said questioning scholars was healthy.”

“Yes, and I imagine your father regretted encouraging such behavior once you discovered how much you enjoyed it,” she mused before readjusting her spectacles.

The words struck deeper than Agatha likely intended. Or perhaps she had intended it exactly as she said. It was impossible to tell with her.

At the mention of her father, grief was no longer the only thing she felt. She brought a hand up to rub her fingers along her sternum. The memories still hurt, but at least they no longer destroyed her completely whenever someone spoke of him.

Agatha slid one of the open books toward her. “Read.”

Leaning forward slightly, Elowynn began scanning the annotated diagrams spread across the brittle, yellowed pages. The text was an old Astrari script mixed with notations she recognized right away.

“The rotational resonance of southern aethercurrents weakens proportionally during periods of—” She came to a sudden stop, her brows drawing together as she focused. “This sequence is wrong.”

Agatha didn't even glance up from her tea. “Continue.”

“It contradicts itself,” Elowynn insisted, flipping back several pages. “If the harmonic pressure shifts northward, the resonance would stabilize here.” She tapped the stabilization sigil inked beside the convergence line. “Not collapse.”

“Explain why,” Agatha prompted.

Elowynn straightened in her chair, already speaking faster with excitement. “Because the harmonic balancing would force the pressure outward through the adjacent lines instead of allowing direct compression. Unless…” She paused. “Unless the current had already weakened beforehand.”

Agatha finally looked up then, watching her carefully over folded, wrinkled hands. “And what weakens an aethercurrent?”

Elowynn hesitated. “Overuse?” she guessed.

“Mm, sometimes. What else?” Agatha asked.

“Astrylite depletion?” Elowynn answered, no hesitation with this next guess.

“Occasionally,” Agatha agreed.

Elowynn narrowed her gaze at the text. “Then what else?”