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Was that really the truth, though? Frankly, she’d never quite believed those teachings. Those things always seemed like relics of a bygone era.

And yet, here and now, she felt it in her heart. A desire for it to be true.

Maybe that made no difference. Maybe she was just being irrational. In fact, she probably was. But it still made tears well up in her eyes, and she buried her face in her hands as she tried to avoid thinking about it any further. To avoid weeping outright.

The claws of her hands made it difficult to touch her own face. She had to move just so, otherwise she’d scratch herself. But at least--

Wait a minute. Her hands? Both of them?

She blinked through the moisture as she saw that, yes, they both had claws on them now. Where before, it only been one, now it was both.

She’d mutated again. Unconsciously.

Her worst fear. Realized.

‘Easy now,’ came Chergoa’s voice. She’d been saying things before, but the words were only registering now. ‘It’s okay, Emi. You’re just fine.’

And Emiliana didn’t want to acknowledge it, but the reaper’s voice was indeed soothing. Helping her not to panic.

There was no reason to, after all. She’d been through this before.

And really, wasn’t this part of the reason why she’d been stuck in this wretched Library so long? Because she couldn’t control it properly?

In a manner of speaking, yes. That made perfect sense to her. If she’d been able to control it, then Gohvis would have been able to complete his study of their weird link by now, right? And then he would’ve let her go, assuming he hadn’t been lying about that.

Which, okay, was maybe a big assumption, but in this particular moment, she shoved that notion to the side. It didn’t fit into this narrative that was forming in her mind. The narrative that was, for the first time in a while, allowing her to feel something new, something other than worry. Or fear. Or sadness. Or homesickness.

Instead, it was allowing her to feel anger.

Maybe that wasn’t better, but it was at least new. Refreshing. And welcome.

She found herself on her feet. Unsteady, but on them. And she was walking. Where to? No idea. No plan for that. She was still staring at her hands. Focusing on them. On the unprovoked changes in them.