I heard Ratvert from my bedroom. Although it was in the basement, a small window in the ceiling allowed me to see and hear whenever someone passed through our garden.
He entered as usual and I followed the sound of his footsteps to my brother's room where he was teaching as usual, Charles Junior having explained to me that they were studying space magic at the moment. So I wasn't surprised to see his sandbox seal appear on my bedside table for the next few minutes.
I was, to say the least, annoyed. Once again I paced my room, rereading the mysterious letter over and over again.
Who was this "Coffee cream"? Maybe it was a group, not just an individual. He already knew too much; I'd been reckless and impulsive. Nizé could feel the current anger, and though still and calm, he was flailing at times. The chessboard on my dresser caught my eye. It was time to make the first move, but did I have white or black in this game? Should I even play this game?
Upstairs, Charles Junior was kneading his mana as Ratvert had instructed him, hiding it from his employer Charles, but eagerly wishing Charles Junior to join the elite camp of paranormal investigation in view of his predisposition for magic. He was gifted for his age, and at 15, Ratvert was sure he would become a great asset.
The day flew by for Charles Junior, while for Anoir, every second was counted by him.
At 6 p.m., as dusk approached, Anoir applied the plan he'd been studying all day.
Bag, water, energy bar, laptop and black outfit: check, basement map of the national library: check, raven following me everywhere: check.
I was ready to do as much research as I could on necromancy, but if the web couldn't help, the forbidden books would, and for that, my plan would.
On tiptoe, I crossed the garden leading to the main gate and took the first left. My black outfit was complete, and I even had a retractable hood and a crochet hook. I wasn't too sure about lock-picking, but I'd probably have no choice, and the online explanations had better not be nonsense.
By the time I reached the bus stop for the library, I was nervous. After all, I could have simply asked for access to the daytime archives, but that would have been too big a risk.
I had deduced from the letter (which was handwritten) that it was a man who had written it, at least according to the bloggers on the subject, but also that the ink used was magic. So maybe it was a magic plotter or something, so I attached it to Nizé's back and asked him to walk away from me for a while.
The bus dropped me off near the big library made of stone, marble I think. Closing time was 8pm, so I entered unhindered, presented my bag to security, taking care to hide my crochet hook, and here I was inside.
It was sumptuous and old. A smell of worn wood and yellow flowers wafted through the air. A wide staircase, topped by a gigantic crystal chandelier, stood in the center of the library, and many students and elderly figures climbed up and down it. Everything seemed to be in rhythm, to the sound of classical music, Schubert.
It was the lower floors I was interested in, so I made my way to the lowest one and was quickly blocked by criss-crossing railings.
"Visitor's pass, young man" A man with a protruding belly, seated behind a desk that seemed overflowing with writing sheets, waited, hand raised, not really observing me.
"Ah sorry, I must have forgotten to take it, can you make an exception and let me in? It's for a university study I've got due tomorrow."
My sincere air, cleverly disguised my lie, at least I hoped.
"What's next, would you like a doughnut?" He hands me a filled box before placing it in a drawer. "Surely not, all entry to the archive room is regulated by law, no pass, no entry" At the end of his sentence, he grabbed a page which he began to read distractedly, impassive.
Discreetly, I take a piece of chewing gum in my hand, and form a solid ball.
"You can stand there as long as you like, you won't get through, kid, get out of here... Shit, everything slipped, it's bound to happen to me" He rose heavily from his chair to pick up the pile of sheets that had fallen to the floor.
With speed and precision, I attacked the lock, and luckily it didn't make a sound when I managed to unlock it. The metal grating was well greased too, so no sound was produced as I passed through the archive entrance.
It's a good thing my gum toss into the pile made all the sheets slide off.
"Let's see, forgotten and ancient magic section.... Here you go."
I was standing in front of an enormous quantity of grimoires, most of which had no title on the cover, so it was going to be a long night....
Throughout the night, Anoir carried out his research, illuminated by a small lamp that hurt his eyes, but his discoveries were worth the effort.
He discovered one thing about animal gifts: according to the book 'I never knew', a young woman who had become a great manager of magical healing had lost both her hands in her youth after entering a forest; according to her, an angel spoke to her and exchanged the gift of healing. According to other archives Anoir consulted, she lived for 265 years before mysteriously dying of an as yet unknown illness. Continuing her research, Anoir soon became aware that other people had also received gifts, but each time, an illness or accident mysteriously intervened. As far as necromancy was concerned, only one of the thousands of books in the room spoke of it under that word.
"A dark magic, often a harbinger of death and power, its wielder is constantly thirsty and can raise bodies, the color of this magic is violet, not to be confused with shadow or spectral magic, although it is often associated with this power. Given that no book has been written on how to wield it, I advise you to stay as far away from it as possible, for 'he who is ever thirsty, will eventually take his revenge'."
The last words weren't clear to Anoir, so he put the book in his bag and was about to sneak out through the emergency exit, when a teleportation portal appeared in front of him. An analysis drone emerged, camera pointed at the emergency exit.