Chapter Twenty-Three

  Noelle growled, her tail swishing in frustration as she pushed away yet another useless book. The Avalon library was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of pages and the groaning of worn chairs. She had thought that research would yield answers, but all she'd uncovered so far were more questions.

  "Find anything?" Jenny asked as she dropped another stack of books onto the table between them. Her wild hair was a mess, and she blew a stray strand out of her face, fidgeting impatiently in her seat. The girl wasn't built for sitting still, and it showed.

  Noelle's ears flattened against her skull. "No. Two-legs write too many words that say nothing."

  Jenny smirked faintly but didn't comment, picking up a volume titled Mythic Construction and Elemental Binding. Her face scrunched in concentration as she flipped through the pages, her wide, curious eyes betraying the sheer boredom she tried to fight off.

  Noelle had brought her here, hoping the library would provide insights into her origins, answers about what made a mythic item sentient. She needed to understand why she, of all things, had changed so profoundly. Ambrose hadn't objected when she told him she needed time alone. He'd respected her need to find out who she was beyond being his cloak.

  But three days in this dusty library had yielded nothing.

  "This one says mythic items can develop sentience if exposed to enough mana from their wielder over time," Jenny said, pointing to a highlighted passage. "But it doesn't explain why some do and others don't." She sighed dramatically, slumping in her chair. "I thought books were supposed to have answers."

  "Useless." Noelle sniffed, shoving another book to the side. The leather-bound tome slid across the polished wood with a soft hiss. "I need to know who made me, not theories."

  Her claws tapped rhythmically against the wooden table. The System had changed her so much already. She had once been nothing more than a cloak, her awareness vague and limited to instincts tied to protecting Ambrose. Now, she walked on two legs, spoke with clarity, and thought beyond her original purpose.

  The library around them was impressive, one of Avalon's treasures that had survived Mordred's corruption. Tall shelves of dark wood stretched toward a vaulted ceiling, where enchanted lanterns cast a warm, steady light. Books of all sizes lined the walls, some bound in leather, others in materials that shimmered and shifted when viewed from different angles. The air smelled of parchment, ink, and the faint tang of preservation magic.

  "You know," Jenny said, closing her book with a loud thud, "it's weird that you care so much about finding out who you are when you still like him."

  Noelle's ears twitched sharply. "Him?"

  "Ambrose." Jenny's voice hardened, her young face taking on an older, darker cast. "After what he did to my dad."

  Noelle's tail curled protectively around her waist. "Ambrose is my heart's companion."

  Jenny's fists clenched against the table. "He's a murderer," she spat, the childish petulance in her tone undercutting the weight of her accusation.

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  "Your father chose his path," Noelle said flatly.

  Jenny's hands trembled. "My dad was trying to protect us. Ambrose didn't have to kill him." Her voice cracked, the rawness of grief slipping through her carefully controlled facade.

  "We've had this conversation before," Noelle said, her voice low and measured. "It changes nothing."

  "It changes everything!" Jenny's chair scraped back as she leaned forward, her eyes glistening with restrained tears. "I don't get how you can defend him. You want to be your own person, but you're still loyal to him after all he's done."

  Noelle growled softly, her claws raking the table. Four thin grooves appeared in the wood, a physical manifestation of her irritation. "I wouldn't expect you to understand. But I need your help, not your judgment."

  Jenny sat back, crossing her arms with a sharp exhale. For a fleeting moment, she looked like the child she was, all wounded pride and barely contained emotion. But then her expression shifted, cooling into something more controlled. "Fine. I'm still coming with you because I need to get stronger. But don't think I've forgotten what I promised myself."

  "That you would kill Ambrose one day," Noelle said, her tone as flat as ever. "I remember."

  The air between them thickened, the uneasy alliance stretched taut across the table. Neither trusted the other, but necessity bound them together.

  "Maybe we're looking in the wrong place," Jenny said finally, breaking the silence. She bounced slightly in her seat, her fidgeting returning with renewed energy. "What we need is someone who actually knows about mythic items. Someone who trades in them."

  Noelle cocked her head, her ears swiveling toward Jenny. "The Merchant's Guild."

  The suggestion made sense. Those who traded in mythic items would have records and insights beyond the reach of Avalon's library. Ambrose had mentioned the Guild before, usually with a tone of distrust. But they were the arbiters of value, the keepers of secrets about the origins and properties of rare items.

  "Yes, but where do we find them?" Jenny asked, her excitement bubbling over.

  Noelle stood, stretching her tiger-like limbs. Her body still felt strange to her when she wasn't running or climbing, but she was growing accustomed to its nuances. Her white hair cascaded down her back, the black tiger stripes a stark contrast against the pale strands. Her claws extended and retracted as she flexed her fingers, a habit she'd developed since gaining her humanoid form.

  "Troy will know," she said, her tail flicking slightly at the mention of his name.

  Jenny's eyebrows shot up. "Troy? The guy Ambrose is always threatening?" Her tone was a mix of nervousness and thrill.

  "The same."

  "Will he even talk to us?" Jenny twisted the hem of her shirt nervously.

  Noelle's mouth curved into a faint smirk. "He'll talk to me."

  The bell above the door to Troy's shop jangled as they entered. The former slaver looked up from behind his counter, dressed in his typical denim and flannel. His eyes widened slightly when he saw Noelle, then narrowed at the sight of Jenny trailing behind her.

  Troy's shop was cluttered but organized, shelves packed with an eclectic assortment of items: enchanted tools, mundane supplies, preserved foods, and the occasional rarity that glinted with the unmistakable sheen of System enhancement. The air smelled of leather, metal, and the subtle tang of preservation spells.

  "Well," Troy drawled, removing his feet from the counter, "this is unexpected. Ambrose's cloak and the necromancer kid. What can I do for you ladies today?"

  "I need information," Noelle said bluntly, striding up to the counter. "About mythic items."

  Troy's gaze flicked between them, wary. "Information isn't exactly merchandise."

  "But you trade in it all the same," Noelle replied. "I know how merchants work."

  He gave a half-smile. "Can't argue with that. What specifically do you want to know?"

  "I need to find the Merchant's Guild. The real one, not just a trading post."

  Jenny stepped closer, trying to look intimidating, though her slight frame and uncertain expression undermined the effort.

  Troy raised an eyebrow. "That's... specific. And potentially dangerous information." His voice dropped. "Why would Ambrose's cloak want to contact the Guild?"

  "I'm not just his cloak," Noelle growled. "I'm looking into my origins. How I was made. Why I developed awareness."

  Understanding dawned in Troy's eyes, and his face softened slightly. "The Guild does track mythic items. Probably has records going back centuries."

  "So you know how to find them?" Jenny pressed.

  Troy nodded slowly. "There's a world called Graymist where the Guild operates. I can give you a contact there."

  After transferring the required SC, Troy handed Noelle a realm stone. The small crystalline object fit in her palm, its surface swirling with mist-like patterns that shifted and changed as she held it. It radiated a gentle warmth, a sign of the power contained within.

  "Channel mana into this, and it'll open a portal to Graymist. In the central market, find a shop called the Silver Thread. Ask for Madame Lorell and say, 'the pattern beyond the weave.' She'll understand."

  Jenny looked at Noelle, her nervous energy bubbling again. "Are we really doing this?"

  Noelle nodded. "Yes. Let's go."

  She tucked the realm stone carefully into a small pouch at her waist, her mind already racing with possibilities. The Merchant's Guild might hold the answers she sought, who had created her, why she had developed sentience, what purpose she was meant to serve beyond being Ambrose's companion.

  As they left Troy's shop, the bell jangling behind them, Noelle felt a strange mixture of anticipation and apprehension. This journey would take her far from Avalon, far from Ambrose. For the first time since her transformation, she would be truly on her own, making decisions that would shape not just her understanding of her past, but the course of her future.

  The world of Graymist awaited, and with it, perhaps, the truth of her existence.