Chapter Text
1. The letter
"...That poor child had known little but hardship since her earliest days. Though we all understood that such fleeting moments of happiness could never last, I still find myself unable to write this letter without a heavy heart.
It is with profound sorrow that we inform you of the passing of Agott Arklaum, who lost her life on ... ... ..., in an unforeseen accident.
As everything happened so suddenly, Agott left behind no final wishes. We therefore humbly ask how the House of Arklaum wishes to proceed with her funeral and the disposition of her remains.
Sincerely
Qifrey The Witch"
2. The tradition
As Adina reached the final lines of the letter, she fell still. Her mind in a moment went blank.
The strength drained from her fingers, and the letter slipped quietly to the floor.
She no longer knew how to describe what she was feeling.
To say she felt no sorrow at all would have been a lie.
Yet neither could she claim she had ever held much affection for the child.
She did not know whether Agott should be laid to rest at Witch Qifrey's atelier or be brought back to the Arklaum estate.
More than that…
She did not even know whether that was what Agott wanted. Why would she care?
Adina had given birth to Agott for no reason other than fulfilling her duty as a member of House Arklaum. Or perhaps she did care after all.
Throughout Agott's life, she had treated the girl as a little more than a stranger.
Even when Agott was accused of plagiarism, even when she was driven from the family, Adina had never spared her a glance.
That was what she thought.
That was simply how the world worked.
Everyone had to learn to stand on their own feet.
No one was obliged to clear one another's path.
The strong would always prevail.
As for those who lost…
Perhaps leaving this world was, in its own way, a mercy.
A distant memory resurfaced.
A tiny hand resting in the palm of her own.
A little girl tugging gently at her sleeve.
"Mother..."
She had merely brushed the child aside.
"Go find someone else to play with."
"I'm busy."
"I don't have time to waste."
She had watched Agott grow up year after year.
And yet, beyond a handful of scattered fragments, she remembered almost nothing about her daughter. Or that she remembered everything about her daughter but not the things that mattered.
Not the sound of her voice. All her spells.
Not the smile she wore. All that she archived.
Not even the things she loved. All her works.
The old attendant quietly picked the letter up from the floor, brushed the dust from it, and offered it back to her.
Adina made no move to take it.
Instead, she slowly lifted her gaze.
Only moments ago, the sky had been a clear, brilliant blue.
Now dark clouds gathered overhead, and distant thunder rolled outside.
Was even the sky mourning Agott?
The thought lingered for just an instant.
The letter was quietly left on her desk.
After all…
Agott was already gone.
No amount of tears, whether by man or heaven, could ever reach her again.
"Send word to Qifrey The Witch,..." Adina finally said, breaking the silence, voice a bit shaken.
"As an Arklaum, I will bring Agott home. She will be laid to rest in the Arklaum cemetery as is our tradition. I'll pay for all the expenses and send him the remainder of Agott's living expenses for this month as well."
Her lips parted slightly, as though more words were about to follow, yet they all died in her throat.
She had no intention of allowing her attendants to take a glimpse of the thoughts hidden within her heart.
For a brief moment, an unfamiliar feeling surfaced.
Regret.
Not because she had falsely accused Agott. She would never do that.
Nor because she had cast the girl out of House Arklaum. That was not her doing.
She had done neither.
Back then, she had believed it was simply not her place to interfere. Whatever judgment House Arklaum had passed upon Agott belonged to the family alone. As one of its own, Adina had accepted that judgment without question, never once believing she had any reason to speak in Agott's defense. She had never stood up for Agott.
Never spoken a single word in her defense.
She had stood before the girl, watched hurt slowly fill those purple eyes…
...and remained indifferent, as though none of it concerned her.
Who could have imagined that the same girl who had once walked away bearing those invisible wounds with quiet resolve…
...would one day fail to survive at all?
An unforeseen accident?
What a bitterly laughable phrase.
In a single instant, grief curdled into resentment.
Yet Adina herself no longer knew whom, perhaps even what, she resented.
It was the next day that Adina had to begin writing the record of Agott's entire life.
It should have been something a child wrote for a parent normally. A proper biography would begin with one's childhood, recount the achievements of a lifetime, preserve the little stories that revealed one's character, and speak of family, love, and the things one left behind. Sadly, Adina was the one left behind to bury her child.
So not normal.
Staring at the blank page before her, she found herself unable to write a single word.
Where was she supposed to begin?
How could she write about a life she had witnessed, yet never truly known?
The realization settled over her with unbearable weight. She knew the dates, the milestones, and the accomplishments. But the memories that gave one life warmth - the quiet smiles, the childish fears, the fleeting moments that only she should've remembered - were nowhere to be found. It's her daughter yet she felt so estranged.
3. The record
Her pen hovered above the paper.
Not a single word came.
Or maybe it did come but she just couldn't grasp it.
4. What remains
"Master Adina, the little miss's remains have arrived," the old helper said quietly.
Pulled from her thoughts, Adina looked up.
"I'll be there in a moment."
Her gaze fell back to the unfinished manuscript.
She had not even finished a single page.
She felt nothing, just like the blank page before her.
Rising from her chair, Adina walked down the long hallway, the old helper following a few steps behind. There was no need to ask where they were going. She already knew where she had to be.
At the end of the hall stood a single room.
Waiting before its door were two men.
One had white hair, the other black. They were Agott's master and the Watchful Eye assigned to their atelier.
Neither of them spoke as Adina approached. They simply stepped aside, allowing her to pass.
Inside were three children around Agott's age.
The green-haired girl clung tightly to Agott, her shoulders trembling with every sob. Beside her stood a pink-haired girl and a blue-haired girl, both looking at Adina with teary eyes.
"Coco... let's go," the pink girl whispered, gently tugging at Coco's sleeve.
They were Agott's peers, Adina thought.
After a long hesitation, Coco finally wiped away her tears and forced herself to stand. She didn't spare Adina a glance before allowing herself to be led out by Tetia, the tallest one, as Adina remembered.
As they reached the doorway, Tetia paused, not turning back.
"Please take care of her," she said quietly.
The room fell silent once more.
Only Adina remained with Agott.
The child was so young, barely having reached her teenage years.
To say Adina felt nothing for Agott would have been a lie, though the affection had always been faint.
She took her time, studying Agott in silence, committing every detail, every last feature, to memory. Her child looked as though she were merely asleep. Agott's face was clean. Someone must have gently washed away the blood before bringing her home.
She was dressed in the inner uniform of Qifrey's atelier, a simple white dress now marred by patches of dried blood. One stained the collar, another spread across the right side of her abdomen, and a third marked the back of her right forearm.
Adina had already read the report detailing the incident that had claimed Agott's life.
Her expression did not change.
Slowly, she reached out.
Her hand hovered over Agott's face for a brief moment before gently cupping her cheek.
The child was dead.
There was no warmth.
"Mother will hold you," Adina whispered.
This was only the third time she had ever held the child.
The first had been when Agott was born.
The second had been when a high fever confined her to bed, and the little girl had instinctively reached for her mother's embrace.
And now…
The third.
The last.
Her eyes began to burn.
One tear fell.
Then another.
"It's late, I'm sorry. Mother will see you off this time... on the last journey you'll ever have to take."
Her vision blurred.
The room faded.
Even her child's face became indistinct behind the veil of tears.
It was the last time she would ever hold Agott.
Yet it was also the first time she had ever laid bare the feelings she had kept buried for so many years. It was her final chance to talk to her daughter.
And she had chosen to do so only after the child could no longer hear them.
After today, Adina Arklaum would have no child.
There would be no heir to House Arklaum. There hadn't been one a long time ago.
The disowned heir of the Arklaum family would be forever gone.
The position of Head Librarian of the Tower of Tomes would be passed to the branch family and continue through its bloodline.
To the main branch, it would be remembered as a disgrace.
But as Adina held Agott in her arms, none of that seemed to matter anymore.
She remained like that for a while.
When no more tears came, she gently laid Agott back down, wiped her face, and composed herself.
Only then did Adina finally look around the room.
True to the old helper's words, the rest of Agott's belongings had been placed on a trolley beside where the child lay.
There was a set of clean clothes prepared for dressing Agott before her funeral.
Beside them rested a worn travel bag. Adina recognized it immediately, it was the very bag Agott had carried years ago when she left home to begin her apprenticeship at Qifrey's atelier.
Inside were a few old clothes, a worn pair of shoes, several books Adina herself had given Agott on various occasions, and an old rabbit plush that she vaguely remembered the little girl hugging when she was young.
Next to the bag lay Agott's palm quire, her wand, and her magic pouch.
Beside them stood a wooden chest containing the clothes and personal belongings House Arklaum had provided after Agott's apprenticeship under her new master had been officially approved.
Adina had never realized how few possessions her daughter truly owned.
Quietly, Adina changed Agott out of her bloodied clothes. Only then did she see her daughter's injuries.
The wound on her right arm was a penetrating injury. Its purpose was unmistakable, to destroy her dominant arm completely, leaving a witch incapable of drawing even a single spell.
The wound to her chest was non-penetrating, slightly right of center. It had likely been intended for the heart.
The wound across her neck had severed her ability to call for help. It was the fatal blow. A cruel way to end a child.
There was also a thin, straight scar on Agott's left arm.
Adina did not remember anyone ever reporting it to her.
There had been something about her daughter that Adina had never known.
Adina's fingers lingered over the scar for a brief moment before she withdrew her hand.
It was old.
Old enough that it had long since faded into a pale, thin line. It had healed cleanly, leaving almost nothing behind but its shape.
No report had ever reached her desk.
No letter had ever mentioned it.
No one had ever informed the Head Librarian from House Arklaum that her daughter had once been injured.
Or perhaps they had.
Perhaps the report had been filed away among countless others, overlooked as something too insignificant to warrant her attention. Adina no longer knew which possibility was worse.
She was the worst!
Truly, there had been something about her daughter that Adina had never known.
She finished changing Agott into a black buttoned-down shirt and a one-piece skirt.
Her daughter was not heavy, she was a bit lanky and tall for a girl of her age. She did know it but never knew. She never knew the weight of a dead child, never imagined the weight of her dead child. Her eyes lingered on her daughter's face. Bidding farewell to a family member was never easy. It wasn't her first time going to a funeral but…
She closed her eyes, then opened them again.
"It's time..."
Agott would be taken into the care of the funeral staff. Adina had until the cremation to put everything else in order. Planning and organizing a funeral was never an easy task. After all, there were no rehearsals for death. This was her first time organizing a funeral…
5. The Room
Standing before the door to her child's room in Arklaum House, Adina wondered “When was the last time I had seen this door?”. It felt so familiar, yet so unfamiliar.
Inside were the standard furnishings issued by Arklaum: a single bed, a study desk, a bookshelf, a wardrobe, and a door leading to a private bathroom. The furnishings still remained at the height they had last been adjusted for Agott. It was just an ordinary child's room.
Everything was in its place. The room looked as though it had been frozen at the moment its owner left. Agott had left behind so little evidence of her existence that, for a fleeting moment, Adina wondered if she had entered the wrong room.
She walked over to the bed.
"This, and the desk, will have to be burned," she murmured.
The books on the shelves belonged to the Arklaum Private Library. Once they had been recorded and their condition documented, they would be returned to the collection. Those that did not belong to Arklaum would be appraised. If they were deemed to have no value, they would be burned alongside the deceased's personal belongings. Those considered valuable would be preserved, usually ending up in a family member's possession.
Adina lingered by the desk a little longer.
This was where that child studied, she thought.
Almost unconsciously, she pulled open one of the drawers.
Inside were stacks of drawing paper, each densely covered in ink. Most of them she had never seen before. Many were nothing more than decorative sigils.
She made her way to the door. This time, she left the room a little faster than she had entered it.
She wanted to escape.
"You," she called to one of her subordinates, "take everything from the desk drawers to my office. Handle the rest according to procedure."
6. Half the Journey
Adina finally had time to continue writing the record.
She had made little progress, though now she found herself able to write a little closer to what she truly felt. There was no deadline, yet an inexplicable sense of urgency weighed upon her.
A knock came at the door.
"Head Librarian, the preparations for the cremation are complete. The elders are waiting."
Her thoughts, which had only just begun to take shape upon the page, were interrupted once again.
It was time.
Adina pinched the bridge of her nose and quietly closed the manuscript.
"Let's finish this."
Rising from her chair, she walked through the dim corridor and stepped outside.
The cremation grounds awaited her.
…..
There were a handful of people gathered around the coffin by the time Adina arrived. She recognised all of them: the Arklaum elders, Qifrey and those from his atelier, the representatives of their fellow librarians and the three Sages of Wise.
“Finally you've come! We’ve chosen the Head of the Funeral!” One of the elders said.
Because of her relationship with Agott, of course Adina hadn't been chosen as the Head of the Funeral.
The Head of the Funeral guided Adina through some steps beforehand, then began the ceremony.
The first one to mourn was Adina, she stepped forward then looked at her daughter's face. The Head of the Funeral handed her a white marigold to place in Agott's coffin.
After that, she was instructed to stand by the coffin and greet each guest when they were called.
The Elders of Arklaum were called first. Each of them, familiar faces, familiar names, familiar titles, passed by. White marigolds continued to fill the coffin.
Then came the three Wise.
First came Beldaruit: “Oh dear, poor little child. And I thought she could become a great librarian. May she rest in peace.” The Wise in Teaching and the proctor of Agott's second test placed a book beside Agott.
“The Brimmed Caps will pay for what they've done! It is our duty to make them pay. You have our condolences.” said Vinanna, the Wise in Principles.
“Dear friend, librarians have always been among our greatest friends. Your loss is ours as well. We have lost a young witch full of potential, perhaps even a future great librarian.” The Wise in Friendship made his speech.
Three more marigolds.
The representatives of Adina's colleagues came and went, more and more marigolds. Why did it have to be white marigolds?! She felt sick just looking at them.
Lastly was Agott's Masters and her friends, they brought more flowers. Qifrey was first, he placed a lily of the valley beside the marigold. Then he touched her head. “I'm sorry, dear. I couldn't bring you home…”
Olruggio placed a blue stone beside her. “Sorry kid. Hope you rest easy now, this gonna keep you warm." Then another marigold.
The children of the atelier came after their masters, their heads lowered. The Head of the Funeral read their names, then brought over a small stool for them to stand on to say farewell to their friend.
There were four children, and then there were three left.
One would never wake up again.