Grub woke up to the feeling of weight on his wrist.
He slowly lifted his arm and stared at the obsidian bracelet wrapped tightly around it. The Mgbaaka Maara looked as harmless as ever.
Its dark surface rested against his skin like an ordinary piece of jewelry, the engraved runes almost elegant in appearance. There was nothing outwardly threatening about it. Nothing that suggested a single press of a button could turn it into his executioner.
He stared at it for a long moment. Then he inhaled slowly and sat up.
Today is the day
If he could find a way to remove the bracelet, then the Lacerts would lose their hold over him. They could still hunt him down if they wanted to, but they would no longer be able to kill him instantly from afar like some dog wearing a shock collar. That difference alone was vital to him.
Grub rolled out of bed, dressed quickly, slid his notebook into his coat pocket, and made his way downstairs.
The inn was quiet, only a few patrons lingering over breakfast. Grub stepped outside and was immediately greeted by the sight of Luthiel waiting for him.
She stood near the entrance with a wide smile on her face, her golden eyes bright and her blonde braid swaying slightly as she bounced on her heels. She looked better than she had in days. Whatever weight had been dragging her down recently seemed to have lifted, at least for now.
That's good, Grub thought.
He did not say it aloud.
"Good morning, Mister Grub!" she said, walking up to him with that familiar warmth. "What would you like to do today?"
Grub studied her for a second. Her eyes were still golden. She was in a good mood. That was a relief. But he also noticed the way she was looking at him. There was something in her gaze that he couldn't quite place. A kind of interest that felt more intentional than usual, like she was studying him back.
He brushed it off. He had to stay focused. The bracelet came first.
Grub adjusted his coat and spoke flatly.
"Today I was actually planning to be by myself. So you can run off and do whatever you want."
He couldn't let her know what he was doing. The Mgbaaka Maara couldn't be seen by her. Not now. Not when he didn't know how she'd react or who she'd tell. He needed to do this alone.
Luthiel's smile faltered. She tilted her head at him, her brow furrowing slightly.
"What could you possibly be doing?" she asked, and there was a sharpness in her voice that surprised him. "I have been the one providing Bells for us to use and paying for the inn straight out of my allowance from Master Morrigan."
She folded her arms. "So tell me, Mister Grub. What could you possibly be doing?"
Grub was mildly surprised by the suspicion in her tone, but his face remained as blank as ever.
"Yeah, I know," he replied evenly. "Just had some personal plans today. Don't worry about it."
He hesitated for a moment before adding,
"Also, speaking of Bells… could I borrow some? I might need to buy some things."
That did it.
Her shift was sudden. One moment her eyes were golden and warm. The next they were glowing red, burning with open irritation. Her blonde hair became messier, red streaks spreading through it like fresh paint across a canvas. The softness was gone. Replaced by edges.
She huffed, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a small, dainty white wallet. Without ceremony she dug out a few hundred Bells and tossed them at him.
"Do whatever the fuck you want, Bug."
The coins bounced off his coat and clattered to the ground. Grub bent down and calmly picked them up. When he looked back at her, her red eyes were fixed on him with an intensity that made him instinctively tense.
Her red eyes lingered on him. They burned through him with an intensity that made the air between them feel tight. For a second it felt like she was looking through him entirely, past his face, past his clothes, past everything he was trying to hide.
Her gaze drifted down. Toward his wrist.
Grub's hand moved instinctively, tucking the bracelet deeper into his pocket before she could get a proper look. His expression didn't change but his pulse quickened behind it.
Luthiel's mouth opened. For a brief moment, it seemed as though she was about to say something. But instead her expression softened.
Her crimson eyes faded back to gold. Her hair returned to its neatly braided form. She stood there for a moment, blinking, looking almost confused.
Without another word, she gave him a small bow, turned around, and walked away.
Grub watched her go. He let out a slow breath once she disappeared around the corner.
That was close.
He looked down at his wrist and pulled the bracelet slightly out of his pocket. The obsidian surface caught the morning light dully.
First things first. I need to head to the library.
It annoyed him. He had been looking forward to his first visit to the library being alongside Orobas, where he could fully indulge himself in everything the place had to offer. History, creatures, geography, Anima—all of it. But that visit was still a day away, and right now he didn't have the luxury of patience.
If he wanted to figure out how to remove this thing, he needed to do research. And research meant books. After Luthiel had disappeared down the other direction, Grub started down the road toward the library.
He made his way through the village streets toward the large building he had only admired from afar. As he walked, something caught his eye.
In the distance, near the center of the village, Morrigan stood with her hands folded peacefully behind her back. The old turtle-like woman stood speaking to two imposing figures.
The first was a tall horned man. His build was similar to Orobas—grey-skinned and clearly the same species—but much bulkier and more imposing. His horns were shaped differently too, thicker and angled forward instead of curling behind, and his hair was darker. He looked like a true warrior in sharp contrasts to Orobas's more scholarly look.
The second was enormous. A green-skinned giant with a build so massive that there was little doubt the thing could crush stone—or skulls—with its bare hands. Grub had no frame of reference for what species it was. It simply stood there, towering over both Morrigan and the horned man, arms crossed and silent.
Morrigan seemed calm. Her hands stayed behind her back as she spoke to the two men about something Grub couldn't hear. The conversation looked civil enough—until it wasn't.
The horned man suddenly raised his voice, shouting at Morrigan loud enough that the sound carried even from a distance. Grub slowed his pace and watched from afar.
Then Morrigan lifted a single finger. Whatever she said was too quiet to hear. But the man went silent immediately. As if someone had reached into his throat and pulled the sound out.
Grub's eyes narrowed.
Interesting.
He considered creeping closer. His instincts told him that conversation might be important—maybe even useful. But just as he took a step forward, Morrigan's head seemed to turn slightly in his direction.
Grub immediately faced the other way and started walking toward the library at a pace that was just a little too fast to be casual.
Not now.
He wasn't prepared to spy right now. But something about interrupting that conversation felt unwise. If she caught him eavesdropping, it would raise questions he didn't have answers for yet. He didn't need that kind of trouble on top of everything else.
But he filed it away.
That conversation was something. And those two men were someone.
He would figure it out later. The library came into view shortly after, and Grub slowed his pace as he stared at it.
It was big. Much bigger than most of the buildings in Anwansi Village. The entrance was headed by a set of tall double doors made of dark wood, carved with patterns that looked deliberate but foreign. The structure itself stood wide and solid, its walls lined with windows that let soft light spill outward. Compared to the rest of the village, it looked like something that had been built to last longer than everything around it.
Grub took a deep breath and pushed the doors open.
The inside was even more impressive.
Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling in long, organized rows that seemed to go on further than they should have. Books of every size and color filled every available space, their spines pressed together tightly, some old and cracked, others newer with clean lettering. The air smelled faintly of old paper and something herbal, like dried leaves had been tucked between the pages. Light filtered down from high windows, catching dust motes that drifted lazily in the warmth.
Grub's chest tightened. Not from fear this time.
This was a treasure trove. Rows upon rows of written records, knowledge preserved and organized and waiting to be pulled from the shelves. His personal heaven. He had to physically stop himself from walking toward the nearest shelf and pulling down everything he could carry.
Focus. You're not here for that. Not yet.
A voice eventually pulled him from his reverie.
"Welcome!"
Grub turned and found the source. A woman stood behind a large desk near the entrance, rising from her seat with a stack of books already balanced in several of her arms.
Grub counted. Eight. She had eight arms, each one moving independently as they adjusted books, straightened papers, and held her place in what appeared to be three separate tasks at once. Her skin was a deep purple, smooth and even across her face and hands. Three eyes blinked at him from behind a set of framed glasses that had been specially made to fit all three lenses. Her hair was dark and tied into a neat bun at the back of her head.
She smiled warmly.
"I'm Nora," she said, stepping out from behind the desk with the stack of books and heading toward one of the aisles. "I'm the librarian of this place. Is there something I can help you find?"
Grub watched her work as she began shelving books with practiced efficiency, multiple arms slotting volumes into place simultaneously without even looking.
He wanted to ask for everything. Everything this building had to offer.
But he wasn't here for that.
"Do you have any books on Mgbaaka Maara?"
Nora paused mid-shelve. She turned one of her three eyes toward him and tilted her head. Then she nodded.
"I do, actually."
She shifted away from the aisle she had been stocking and led him deeper into the library, past several rows until they reached a section labeled clearly as non-fiction. She stopped in front of a small collection of books and gestured toward them with one of her free hands.
"Here we are, sir." She adjusted her glasses with another hand. "May I ask why you're interested in those?"
Grub coughed. "I'm… just curious."
Nora studied him for a moment with all three of her eyes. Then she simply nodded, smiled politely, and headed off toward the fiction section with her remaining stack.
Grub turned back to the shelf. He reached for one of the books. His fingers brushed the spine.
And for a brief second, his mind flashed to that clearing. The Lacert's scarred face. The button sitting in his palm like a beetle. The thumb hovering just above the center.
A shiver ran through him. He pulled the book from the shelf and held it tightly.
I need to be free.