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“Mr. Hakinvar, your research partner for your project shall be… Miss O’Shaughnessey,” drips the icy voice of Mrs Runestaff, the Wizardry Instructor. Oisin merely nods, though his stomach feels like a clutch of butterfly eggs have all suddenly hatched within it. He can hear Adaine’s huff of frustration from across the room, however, and the butterflies seem to melt down into lead instead.
The teacher continues naming off research partners until all students are accounted for, and then everyone breaks off into pairs to begin their project. Oisin and Adaine aren't any different, and they head to the library in silence to check out books. There Adaine stands on the ladder, pulling various books off the shelves and wordlessly hands them to Oisin. She’s gentle with the books, however, and he feels like this is a good sign. Eventually Adaine seems to decide that they have enough books and climbs down the ladder, grabs half the books in Oisin’s hands, and heads to the closest table where she drops them off.
“I, er, thought we could do our project on how thermal fluctuations alter the efficacy of elemental spells and how to correct that,” he says as he sits down.
“Works for me,” she says. Again, the words aren't clipped or bitten off, and hope wells up within him.
But then she’s silent as she works, grabbing different books and jotting down various notes and quotes from them without even looking over at him and his heart sinks.
It was six months ago that The Bad Kids had defeated Porter and the Rat Grinders and Oisin had been revived without his rage crystal, six months since he was reborn with a sense of shame over what he’d done and his attempts to atone for it. Most of The Bad Kids seemed to have forgiven them, but In Oisin’s case there was one holdout: Adaine. Since their senior year began she’d been avoiding him whenever possible, choosing to not speak to him or acting like he wasn’t even there. And now, here he was, alone with her and once more being treated like he was invisible. Well, time to bite the bullet.
“You hate me, don’t you?”
“I don’t hate you,” she said calmly, not even hesitating as she copied a passage down in her notebook. She kept her eyes focused on her work as she continued, “Why bother hating the bee for stinging you when it’s just protecting her queen? Why bother hating the mosquito when it bites you when it’s just gathering food to make babies? Why bother hating the ant for stealing a crumb from your picnic when it’s just gathering food for its nest?”
“But… I wasn’t trying to protect anyone or help anyone. We… we were killing a god to make a new one.”
“You’re missing the comparison,” Adaine says smoothly, flipping a page in her notebook and continuing to work. “I’m calling you an insect. Why bother hating something so insignificant in the grand scheme of things? That’s all.”
Oisin’s face burns in shame and embarrassment. He should be angry, but he can see the perspective. She’s the Oracle; she’s saved the world four times over. She is literally legendary – there’s a spell that confirms it, after all. And him? What has he done? He left a lot of ping pong balls in a house and delivered one good line before he was rapidly and effortlessly killed by her and her friends.
“I… I see.” His voice is timid and hollow. He knows his place. “I… I think Raultholim’s Effervescent Enigmas might have some useful information. I’ll go get it.”
“Great. Thanks.” He gets up, dragging his tail, and heads back to the bookshelves. Any butterflies within him curl up and die.