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Strixhaven University’s Biblioplex was a marvel of both knowledge and magic. It was much bigger than it seemed (and it was downright imposing on the outside), an incredible repository of magical knowledge, and the retainer of the most complete history of the Multiverse… well, in the Multiverse.
It could also be difficult to find the book you were looking for. Not because of the organizational system—impeccable—or the categorization of books—thorough—but because of the sheer volume of tomes that it held. For those new to it, it was generally best to ask the archivists for help. They could locate by subject, title, and time written, and were equally adept at ensuring mage-students didn’t get lost.
But there is also something to be said for wandering those shelves with only yourself for company, be it for a specific book or simply to browse, surrounded by the knowledge of millions.
Niko had been here before—according to Zimone, every student ended up at the Biblioplex eventually, and they had found themself there in the first week—and it always amazed them. The towering bookshelves, the scent of old pages, the numerous alcoves for studying or relaxing.
Some parts of the stone floor were newer than others; even the Biblioplex bore scars from the Phyrexian invasion.
Niko approached the librarian’s desk, checking the slip of paper they’d written the book’s title on, and said softly,
”Hello. Do you know where I can find A Comprehensive Primer on Orthography, Semantics, and Pragmatics by Tausret?”
Head Librarian Isabough looked up from the book she was checking back in, her branches rustling softly as she nodded.
”You’ll want to go to Languages—the first shelves to the left of the bioluminescent ivy,”
She replied, gesturing to her left.
“The Linguistics subsection, second level, on the shelves marked Introductions. We have five copies left. Ask if you need help.”
“Thank you,”
They whispered, and they could have sworn she smiled as she wished them luck.
Languages was a vast section, and its subsections no less so. First were the books on the languages of different planes, separated by plane, languages, and dialects found on those planes, along with theories on linguistic overlap. Next was a series of dictionaries going between thousands of languages—Niko recognized several. Following that was an area dedicated to the studies of how languages have evolved and where certain languages originated and branched from.
Fourth was the sign for Linguistics, the letters glowing a soft gold. Niko glanced at the signs of the shelves for subsections and found Introductions to be two shelves in, and were marked by ferns growing around the shelves. Only their experience within the Biblioplex rendered this mostly unsurprising.
They climbed up a set of wooden stairs to the second level, a floor materializing the higher they climbed.
The shelf of Introductions was far more extensive than it initially appeared; the more they walked along it, the more there seemed to be, which was simultaneously incredible and compounding the length of their search.
They found it on the highest shelf about halfway(?) down, aged but clearly well cared for, the pages softened by consistent use. When they took it from its shelf, another copy appeared in its place with a flash. Niko held their iteration of the Comprehensive Primer close to their chest and descended the stairs, beginning to retrace their footsteps and mentally checking off items and signposts they’d made certain to memorize so they didn’t get lost. The floor dissolved in a cloud of silver when they were halfway down the steps.
As they walked their path in reverse, memories of the trail of string used to wind one’s way out of Skophos rose to the surface of their thoughts, though the Biblioplex was more maze than labyrinth. The floor changed from stone to wood, then stone once more, then paper, which was how they knew they were closer to the broader sections. Sure enough, to their right was Historical Accounts of Arcavios, and to their left was Spoken Magics.
Niko left the Languages shelves behind and arrived on the central path, spanning the wide arc of all sections for someone to walk along until they found what they were looking for, or if something caught their interest.
Someone clad in the uniform of a first-year rushed past them, towards the Spatial Magics section, and accidentally clipped Niko’s shoulder in the process.
“Sorry,”
The person running whispered, the response sounding reflexive, almost rote. They didn’t break their stride once, head down, a scrap of paper clutched close.
It was the faint, raspy, hollow voice which made Niko pause.
It didn’t make sense—but it was the only thing that made sense. More gaunt, longer hair, a new hoarseness… but nonetheless unmistakeable. And running, running still, with certain steps and a subtle, intentional sway to anticipate changing terrain.
“Winter?”
Momentum carried him a few steps further before he stopped dead, turning with something like horror. When the light hit his face, it highlighted a lidless, scarred socket where his left eye once was. The remaining eye, a hue like bone, was wide with fear, or perhaps shock.
”…Niko?”