The book sat silently, the leather dully catching the light from the lantern.

  I reached out, gently pulling the book from the shelf.

  It slid free easily.

  Willingly.

  Like it wanted me to hold it.

  I cracked the book slowly, marveling at the beauty of its vellum pages, surprised at its weight.

  It just felt like it held knowledge.

  I glanced up, half expecting Vaarg to be staring at me with his mug of goo.

  But he wasn’t there, and I turned back to the book, trembling in excitement.

  I almost expected the book to float. Or glow. Or something.

  But it didn’t. It sat there.

  Quiet - somehow warm.

  Real.

  As if frustrated with my slowness, the book flung itself open, a sudden gust of wind knocking the lantern from my hand.

  I gasped, quickly grabbing the book with both hands to make sure I didn’t drop it.

  As quickly as it came, the wind died, leaving my hair that I had yet to get trimmed tousled.

  I gripped the book tightly, glancing at my feet where the lantern hovered just above the floor, tilted and flickering, as if frozen mid-fall.

  I was almost afraid to move. Afraid this moment would disappear, taken forever.

  But I couldn’t see what was on the pages, and my curiosity got the better of me.

  I gingerly reached down to grab the lantern; which to my surprise, moved easily.

  I half expected it to stay frozen where it was.

  I set it softly on the shelf above me, where the light could fall on the book.

  The book that was still there. I felt my hands tremble, my y breath coming ragged, a mixture of excitement and expectation welling inside me.

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  I stared at page one, at a rune I had seen before.

  At the Rune I had used before

  At Fire.

  —-

  Just like last time, I didn’t know *what* it read, just what it meant. It still took a moment to read - though not as long as before.

  My mouth was dry. This was the moment. The moment I would know if the first item was a fluke or not.

  If I would be one to use magic.

  I stared intently at the rune, the faint light from the lantern dancing across the page. The rune was tantalizing, mesmerizing - drawing me in.

  Almost without realizing I once more whispered a language I did not know.

  Fire.

  I gasped as the gentle spiral of flame that wisped from the page illuminated the darkness like a quiet ember, somehow more real than the light from the lantern, before fading out.

  I froze, tears welling in my eyes.

  The rune had listened again, just like last time.

  I had done magic. This time not a fluke. This time for real.

  Me.

  I wiped my eyes and turned the thick vellum page, the smell of old parchment hitting me in the gut. I was surprised, but it took more effort than I would have thought to turn the page.

  The literal weight of knowledge.

  I almost laughed at the cliché.

  The next rune was beautiful. Where the rune for fire was…fierce? This rune was sharp. Hard.

  I stared at it, waiting until I could understand it.

  And kept staring.

  I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, right when it hit me.

  Ice.

  The rune was for water.

  I didn’t know how I knew it, nor why - but I knew what it was.

  I let the rune fall from my lips.

  Just above the page, a snowflake the size of my hand formed, gently pulsing under the lantern’s light.

  I stared in awe, the cold brushing against my face. Cold I had made.

  Then the smell hit me. The smell of cold and snow. The smell of winter.

  But more than that.

  The smell of magic.

  My magic.

  Without warning, wave of exhaustion hit me, and the snowflake faded like a breeze carried away the snow.

  I staggered enough to have to lean against the shelf to hold myself up.

  It wouldn’t do for me to pass out and have Vaarg find me here, just to fire me for being down a forbidden Aisle.

  Not when I had just found this.

  I gingerly put the book back and took the lantern, tiptoeing my way down the Aisle.

  I don’t know how I knew, but I could feel the magic had taken something from me. Left me weakened and tired.

  But it had also given me something. Something inside. Something that had been slowly growing since I started working this chaotic job that I somehow loved.

  I didn’t yet know what it was, but it felt like a fire.

  A fire I knew I would chase to the ends of the earth.