Spike frowned. “What do you mean ‘we’re not in Everfree anymore’?”
“What I’m going to say is probably going to sound crazy, but—”
“Can’t be much crazier than what we’ve seen already,” he interjected. “Go for it.”
She paused for a moment to arrange her thoughts and then made a sweeping gesture around the library’s interior. “This place that we’re in – what we’re experiencing right now isn’t real. Well, technically, it is, but it’s more like a pocket of reality that isn’t manifested in the physical world.”
Spike blinked. “Come again?”
“Remember that itch on your shoulder? It’s because you were bitten by a star spider in the library. The real library. You passed out some time after that, and it took me a while to figure out that your affliction was magical in nature. Star spider venom isn’t dangerous to us, and its effects do not include rapid-eye-movement sleep—which was what you were apparently doing, by the way. After doing a bit of testing, I confirmed that there was something a little off about the castle – you were right about that all along, too – that was magical in nature. There’s something… lingering over this place, just a tiny bit below our ordinary level of perception. My theory is that the spider venom, which can cause hypersensitivity to certain stimuli, enabled you to perceive and be affected by whatever power that’s lurking in the castle. I got myself bitten to follow you in.” Here, she showed him her fetlock and scratched at the itch to illustrate her point. “And here we are.”
“So… you’re saying that we’re not actually here, right now? We’re actually dreaming because we got bitten by star spiders?” Spike’s eyes were wide as saucers.
Twilight put a hoof to her chin thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t call it dreaming, per se. We’re obviously interacting, and I don’t think that’s possible unless Princess Luna facilitates a dreamwalking bridge between us. And as I mentioned, the venom couldn’t have made this place spring into existence just like that.”
“Then what’s really—” Spike changed tack in mid-sentence, “Hang on, if you can remember all that, then why can’t I?” He frowned, grinding his teeth in frustration. “I can remember some of the things you said, and they sound kind of right, but they’re all in bits and pieces. Gah! What’s wrong with me?”
“Take it easy.” She patted him on the shoulder. “I had a hard time remembering, too. I’m not entirely sure, but it’s probably a side effect of our entry into this place. It… it feels like astral projection.”
Spike tilted his head.
“An out-of-body experience. It’s similar to what I felt when I drank that potion Zecora gave me, and it also took me a while to figure out that I was seeing only a memory, even though some elements should have made it obvious that it wasn’t real. I also experienced something similar when Princess Celestia took me to the astral realm just before I got my wings. The biggest difference right now is that we’re able to interact directly with this place, the projected environment. It’s like we’re in a fake version of the castle instead of the real thing.”
Spike frowned in thought for a minute or two. Judging by his expression, he finally seemed to be experiencing the revelation that she’d had minutes ago. After a while, he looked at her and said, “I… I think I can get along with that for now. But are you so sure that this version of the palace is fake? It matches up to what I remember when Dash and the others were all here.”
“Maybe we were all bitten at some point. There were a lot of them.”
Spike raised a claw and opened his mouth, but Twilight pre-emptively warded off his scepticism with a shrug. “It’s the best I can come up with at the moment. Statistically improbable, but it’s not impossible. The most important thing right now is to find a way out of this place. Pinching ourselves won’t work; we’ll have to find the source. I just hope that it’s something that we can fix from this side of the projection. If not…”
“Well, we all got out the first time, didn’t we?”
“I’m not sure we can count on that happening a second time.”
A thick silence followed. Spike didn’t want to ask, and she didn’t want to say what they’d do if they couldn’t find a solution. They’d cross that bridge when they got to it.
“Give me a moment.” Twilight lay down and slowed her breathing, easing herself into the meditative state that Zecora had taught her. She attempted another magical sweep of the castle, and gasped when the brilliance of hundreds of threads of arcane energy seared her mental vision; she could feel the rapid onset of a splitting headache every second she remained in that state.
After just a few seconds, she ended the spell and groaned as she rubbed her forehead. The entire structure had registered as a powerful magical anomaly, and an extremely well-crafted one at that. Whoever or whatever had made it was probably on par with some of the best mages in history, unless they’d done it with the aid of a powerful artefact like the Alicorn Amulet…
Despite the implications, Twilight couldn’t help marvelling at the complexity of the projection they inhabited. All of the books she’d picked up had been fully legible and filled with actual writing on legitimate fields of knowledge and Equine Literature. If anypony had been tasked with creating an illusion of a library, she would have expected them to have taken short cuts and filled the vast majority of the volumes with empty pages or meaningless scribbles. After skimming several dozen volumes, she had to admire the time and effort it must have taken to construct a wonderfully detailed environment on such a scale. And that was only the library! To think of how long it must have taken…
Hmm. A very long time.
“Hah!” Spike cheered. “I know that look. What’s the plan?”
Twilight trotted over to the balcony and frowned in the general direction of one particular room at the other end of the library. “I think I know who we have to speak to.” She spread her wings and waved him over. “Hop on.”
“It’s the crazy unicorn, isn’t it?” he asked as she soared over the great bookshelves, towards their destination. “She’s the one behind this?”
“I’m not a hundred percent certain, but if she’s been around for as long as she’s implied, she should know a thing or two about this place. And even if she doesn’t and is trapped here like us, we should at least stick together and find a way out.”
They found the mare back at work transcribing something when they reached the hidden room. She smiled at them as they entered, saying, “Well, that was quick. Is there anything else that you need?”
“Are you familiar with astral projection?” Twilight asked.
The smile on her face faltered for just a moment before she got up from her seat eagerly and replied, “Oh, yes. There are several volumes on the subject that I think you would find most helpful. They are right this way—”
Twilight placed a wing on the grey unicorn’s shoulder and gently held her back. “That won’t be needed. I just need to tell you something.”
The mare seemed taken aback by her abruptness, but recovered quickly and said, “Very well. What is it?”
“This castle that we’re in – it’s just a magical construct. It’s not real. I don’t know how you got in here, but we need to—”
“What?” The mare chuckled and went back to her seat, still smiling. “I have always considered the Royal Sisters’ collection to be wonderfully immersive, but I would never have thought that anypony would take them so seriously.”
Twilight had to blink for a couple of seconds before shaking her head. “No, this isn’t an overactive imagination. We really are stuck here.”
The mare’s pleasant outlook became just a little strained. “Don’t be silly.” She levitated a pair of books off of her work table and passed it to them, saying, “These books, feel them. They are real, are they not? Why would you even say such a thing about their Royal Highnesses’ library?”
“Then explain how the sun set less than an hour ago, when it has only been about six or seven hours since I got up at sunrise,” Twilight challenged, after putting the book back on the table. “Did Princess Celestia mess up her timing?”
“Now, wait, I—”
Sensing a crack in the unicorn’s defence, Twilight pressed her advantage. “You also mentioned that you’re alone in here. Then tell me, who’s been setting up those candles and lamps? I saw a few of them before coming here, and I’m sure that there’s no way you could’ve done it and gotten past us without notice.”
“Maybe she was deliberately hiding?” Spike suggested.
“No!” the mare protested. “Why are you…” she suddenly trailed off and gave them a reproachful look, before sidling back to her seat and magically snatching back the book Spike had been holding. She then bent over her work once more in utter silence.
Darn. Pushed too hard…
“Listen,” Twilight gently urged, taking several steps forward, “I don’t know how long you’ve been in here, and I’m sorry for being so rude and rough about it. But we are all trapped in astral projection together, and the first step to finding a way out is to acknowledge that our senses are fooling us.”
No answer.
“Try to remember what you were doing before you got here.”
“Don’t you feel like there’s something wrong with this place?” Spike added. “It gave me the creeps, and that was even before Twilight snapped me out of it.”
“Leave me be.”
Those three words seemed to echo with deep-seated resignation. At what, she could not tell, but it suggested that the mare had information she didn’t want to share, for some reason. Twilight reached out with a hoof to her. “Please, try to remember. Your physical body must be somewhere nearby.”
This time, the mare raised her eyes and glared at them. Twilight shivered involuntarily when those amber eyes locked onto hers; they were completely devoid of the warmth or emotion that she’d previously displayed. A hint of steel had slipped into the unicorn’s voice when she answered, “You have outstayed your welcome. If you try to linger, do not be surprised if the guards do not take kindly to your trespassing.”
“What guards?” Twilight shook her head in disbelief. “That makes no sense. Think about what you’re saying!”
“I have nothing more to say to you. Farewell.”
The mare averted her eyes and went back to work, allowing stony silence to reign once more. But inside Twilight’s mind, a storm of questions whirled ceaselessly.
Doesn’t she realise that the castle is deserted and in ruins? She’s talking as if…
And then Twilight realised why the unicorn’s accent sounded so distinct. It was nearly identical to Princess Luna’s speech pattern when she visited Ponyville on Nightmare Night.
Stars above, is she…
“Just how long have you been in here?” Twilight whispered. “What do you remember—”
“Get out!” the mare spat.
“Please…”
“Guards!”
Twilight flinched when the unicorn slammed her hoof on the table, hard enough to send the inkwell flying. Spike leaped back as the mare’s horn blazed with green magic, glaring at Twilight with seething resentment. Seconds later, the clip clop of heavy hooves echoed throughout the library.
“We are here. What troubles you?” asked a gruff voice from behind them.
Twilight whirled around and nearly jumped into the air in shock when she found a group of four armour-clad pegasus stallions right at her back. At first glance, they looked just like royal guards, right down to the uniformly white coats, teal eyes and blue manes and tails. But after getting over her initial surprise and their stern expressions, she realised that their armour design, although similar in colouration, had distinctly more angular and coarse features than the outfit that she remembered from Shining Armour’s repeated visits home.
But before she could think of a way to reframe their conversation to adjust for their unexpected presence, the grey unicorn pointed her hoof at her and Spike, saying, “They are trespassing. Take them away.”
“What? Where to?” asked Spike in bewilderment as the pseudo-guards closed in on them.
“Where’d you guys even come from?” Twilight cried and leaped back when they attempted to seize her. “Hey, stop! I don’t know who you are, but that’s not important right now—this place isn’t what it looks like. We have to—”
“I have heard enough of your nonsense. Take them, now!” the grey unicorn shrieked.
Twilight had learned long ago from observational studies resisting arrest seldom ended well for the accused, even if—no, especially if you had done nothing wrong. Princess Celestia was always willing to give the benefit of the doubt to all ponies accused of wrongdoing. And even though she wasn’t sure the same could be said about the unicorn who appeared to be in charge of these guardsponies, the instinct to stick to protocol and play along remained strong.
“What’s the big deal—hey!”
At least, until one guard swept Spike up in his foreleg like one would an errant puppy. And before she could say anything about cooperating, Spike struggled against the rough treatment and received a cuff to the head for his trouble.
Her vision shifted a little closer towards the red spectrum.
“Please don’t do that again,” she growled at the guards, involuntarily flaring her wings. “I would appreciate it if you would Spike with a little more respect. He’s not an animal.”
“If you want to be shown respect, leave immediately,” the grey unicorn suggested icily. She then directed her gaze towards the guard who had Spike, who loosened his hold a little bit. Not enough for Spike to wriggle free, but just enough to stop causing evident pain.
“The guards won’t hurt him unless you give them a reason to,” the grey mare added with a sideways glance towards the exit.
Twilight ground her teeth in silence as she glared at the guards. She could probably take them on without too much difficulty if the situation called for it, but she didn’t want to risk them hurting Spike in the process.
Fine. We’ll play along for now.
“Okay, we’ll leave you alone. Please, just let Spike go.”
The guard holding Spike turned to the mare for confirmation, and upon receiving a curt nod, released him without complaint. Spike rushed to her side as the guards closed in to herd them towards the exit. Twilight spared one glance back at the mare, hoping to find some evidence of shady magic that might suggest mental or arcane manipulation from another source, but found no tell-tale glow on her horn or any glazed look in her eyes. The same went for the stallions.
“Where are we going?” Spike asked when they’d exited the library.
“Down,” said one of them.
Twilight raised an eyebrow as all four guards stood in a line to keep them from re-entering the library. A quick look around told her that they had no other way to go except through the corridor leading back out to the courtyard, and she couldn’t recall seeing any stairs along this way. Did the guards expect them to get there on their own? They acted as if they’d already gone as far as they’d intended.
“I don’t get it. What do you want to—aaahhh!”
The world suddenly tilted sideways. She flailed around as gravity took hold of her and scrabbled with her hooves against the slippery marble flooring, but to no effect. Spike’s claws fared no better. They screamed as a dark hole yawned beneath them and swallowed them whole. Twilight slipped and rolled until she sort of gained a little stability whilst sliding on her back and just managed to conjure a little light to see Spike, grab him and hold on tight. Vision didn’t exactly improve her assessment of the situation, though.
The smooth, spiralling stone tube made her feel like a helpless animal sliding down the gullet of some gigantic monster. Too narrow for flight, yet too wide and slippery for her to spread out her limbs to arrest their momentum.
After what seemed like an eternity, the tube straightened and evened out before it finally ejected them onto a carpet of greyish moss that cushioned their landing.
Twilight stared at the ceiling in a daze for a few seconds before a groan from Spike reset her mental gears. She released her hold on him and massaged her sore rump, then checked to make sure she hadn’t busted her saddlebags and their contents. Once satisfied that the bags and books hadn’t suffered serious damage, she staggered to all fours in order to take stock of her surroundings.
“Well, that’s not good,” Spike quipped. “Where are we?”
“Probably the dungeon.”
They had landed in a square, dank cell roughly the size of her bedroom, and right before them stood a rusty, rotting door with two flickering torches ensconced on either side. Frowning, Twilight turned back and tried to shine her light up the slide tube. She blinked once, twice, then shook her head in disbelief. A stone wall seemed to have popped into existence to obstruct the passage; it didn’t even budge when she pushed against it with a generous application of kinetic magic.
Well… okay. No other way but forward, then.
The burning torches by the door provided enough light on their own, so Twilight extinguished hers and plucked one from its bracket. Once she’d affirmed her readiness, Spike breathed a steady jet of green flame to melt the door’s rusty hinges. She then used magic to extract the door, drawing metallic creaks and groans from the remaining bolts and hinges as they buckled and gave way.
A dark passage lay behind the door, mildly sloping downwards. They went through it slowly, pausing every now and then when they might’ve heard some noises below, moving forward only when they’d judged it safe to do so. The stonework there looked in relatively good shape compared to the worn, lichen-encrusted surfaces they’d seen above.
After going for a hundred paces or so, they found another door, unlocked and in good shape. It only creaked a little as she pushed it open.
Twilight blinked as light poured into their narrow passage, and she cautiously poked her head out to find an expansive vaulted chamber on the other side of the door. Torches and oil lamps hung from brackets set into the myriad of pillars throughout the chamber, giving the place a somewhat warm appearance. Despite the stacks of boxes, draped furniture and other odds and ends sitting in haphazard clusters everywhere, the floor looked clean-swept and well-maintained. That, combined with the rather atmospheric lighting made it look as if somepony had planned to hold a ball in the castle’s crypt or undercroft.
“What now?”
Twilight trotted forward. “Let’s see if there’s another way back up. Either that, or we hope we run into somepony who knows what’s going on.”
“Yeah, okay.”
They’d barely gone in ten paces when Twilight heard hoofsteps. She froze more or less the same time as Spike did, just as a unicorn trotted into view from behind a particularly high stack of junk. He had a pale blue coat with brownish hair that looked rather well-groomed for somepony wandering in the castle’s bowels. Despite their being right out in the open, he apparently hadn’t noticed their presence and casually wandered over to another pile of stuff.
“Umm, hello?” Twilight called out.
The stallion didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up an ancient-looking, ornate jar with his magic and simply inspected with the air of somepony browsing in an antique shop.
Twilight bit her lip as she trotted towards him, wondering if she should prepare a defensive shield. He looked harmless enough.
“Hi there. I’m Twilight and this is Spike,” she began, tensing a little as the stallion turned to face her. “Uh… I don’t suppose you could tell us where we are? We’re a little lost.”
The stallion seemed to hesitate for a couple of seconds, but when he eventually smiled warmly, she almost sighed in relief.
“Ah, so very kind of you. I’ve finally found what I’m searching for!” he exclaimed, almost hopping on the spot with joy. He then levitated the jar before Twilight and said, “May I borrow this? It’s perfect for my research!”
“Uh…” Twilight blinked, then glanced at Spike for help. Unfortunately, he only supplied her with a nervous shrug.
“May I, my fine filly?” The stallion was still smiling at her.
A dozen or so excuses, explanations and incomprehensible utterances fought for control of her tongue at the same time. She didn’t own anything down there, so asking her was sort of pointless. What was he even doing looking for ancient pottery down there, and asking to borrow one, no less? But something about his mannerisms seemed familiar to her, too, and the words just rolled off her tongue before she could think to stop them.
“Sure. Just remember to return it on time.”
He nodded emphatically. “Oh, to be sure. Thank you kindly!”
After giving her and Spike a quick bow, he happily trotted off with the ornate jar in tow, oblivious to their hanging jaws.
“Okay, so that happened,” Spike eventually quipped.
“Yeah. What was that about?”
“One’s kind of obvious.” He made a swirly motion with a claw next to his head. “Maybe he’s been down here so long that he’s lost it.”
Twilight shook her head. After the instability the librarian had displayed, she did not feel very inclined to interact further with the stallion. At least, not until she’d exhausted other, less disturbing options.
“Let’s… let’s just keep searching.”
Unfortunately, further exploration of the undercroft shed little light on their situation. They found other ponies similarly off-kilter like the stallion wandering all over the place as they went deeper. Some simply browsed around like he’d done and asked for permission to borrow odds and ends whenever she spoke to them, bounding off like pleased colts and fillies if she said yes, or in one case, reverting back to searching when she said no. A few actually went around sweeping the floors and dusting everything they could get their hooves on, but not once did they respond to any of her questions. In fact, they actively tried to stay out of her way whenever possible. But some outright scared her; they simply wandered about like lost travellers, with their thousand-yard stares through vacant eyes, almost completely oblivious to anypony around them.
“We’re officially in Creepy Town,” Spike whispered as he hugged himself and shivered by her side. “This is way worse than the mime incident.”
“I don’t like it, either. Just hold on a while longer; if we don’t find another way out soon, I’ll just try breaking out the way we came.”
Something about those ponies bothered her, though. Despite some appearing pretty off in the head, they all looked reasonably clean and healthy, despite the apparent lack of water or food. Or anything else needed for basic living, really. She hadn’t seen even a hint of a mattress or latrine anywhere. Just a whole lot of furniture and not-very-useful artefacts.
She halted when Spike suddenly tapped her on the shoulder, and tracked his gaze towards the far end of the undercroft, where the lighting seemed a little brighter, with a generous portion of books thrown into the surrounding clutter.
Twilight noticed that the other ponies gave the area a wide berth; even the supposed cleaners went out of their way to avoid entering it, despite the apparent layer of dust on nearly all of the objects there. She readied a shielding spell as they crossed the threshold into dusty flooring, just in case something dangerous lurked behind the stacks of books.
After going past the dusty border, though, Twilight noted that the area showed signs of somepony’s presence. Hoof prints dotted the floor, and many of the books had sweeping patterns on their dusty covers as proof of recent usage or rearrangement. The sheets of cloth and flattened cushions strewn about also looked like resting places or makeshift beds.
A scratchy noise reached her ears as they neared the centre of the book-strewn region, and her heart rate spiked when she spotted a unicorn stallion lounging on a what looked like a nest consisting of old pillows, blankets, books, scrolls and melted candles. He had his back to a semi-circular fortress of books piled high, with a lamp on the floor by his side and a mess of open volumes strewn before him as he scribbled away on a piece of parchment. The single-minded, utter concentration he gave to his work reminded her of the librarian above; he didn’t even swivel his ears at their approach even after they’d clearly gotten within hearing distance.
Something about him reminded her of college. It might’ve been his obliviousness to the rest of the world while he worked, or the grey, somewhat dishevelled mane and beard that invoked memories of some of her professors. He certainly looked old enough for the part, with his greying coat that looked like it once had a brilliant shade of teal. Even his cutie mark depicting a sparkly scroll looked a little old and worn.
“More of you, huh?”
Twilight froze at the sound of his gravelly voice. Apparently, he had a lot more spatial awareness than she’d given him credit for. About ten paces separated them; her hooves and Spike’s feet just touching the circle of light radiating from his personal lamp.
The stallion sighed. “Whatever your business is, take it to somepony else who cares. Don’t come back.”
Twilight shared a look with Spike, then swallowed dryly as she trotted a couple of steps closer. “You’re, uh, different from the rest of them.”
“Obviously.”
Twilight quickly realised that nothing else was forthcoming. He had a disturbingly similar pattern of responses to the librarian, but she decided to press him a little further before writing him off as similarly delusional.
“I don’t suppose you know a way out of this castle?”
His quill, which hadn’t stopped dancing across the parchment in the yellow glow of his magic the entire time, suddenly stopped. Silence rushed in to fill the space around them like black water. Twilight could hear her thumping heart and Spike’s nervous breaths.
Slowly, the stallion lifted his gaze from his work. Sharp, yellow eyes that contrasted starkly with the rest of his aged appearance bored right into her. Twilight resisted the urge to fidget and allowed him to appraise her and Spike, hoping that he might have an answer.
After a moment, the stallion chuckled. “Different, eh? So are you. Tell me, what year is it?”
“One thousand and two, ANM,” Twilight answered.
“I… I see.” The stallion nodded, then wrinkled his brow in thought for a moment before squinting at Twilight. “Alicorn and dragon, huh? Times must’ve changed a lot, or Summer’s finally trying new things again.”
“Summer?” Spike tilted his head and pointed a claw upwards. “You talking about the librarian up there?”
“Yes, but that’s not important right now,” said the stallion as he waved a hoof dismissively. He then focused on Twilight and frowned. “Hmm, you look like an educated mare. Do you happen to know who wrote Everfree Entropy?”
She recognised the title easily enough; she remembered a research paper mentioning its author’s assertion that the Everfree Forest was created by decaying magic. A very widely accepted theory from nearly two hundred and fifty years ago, until more recent research proved that Nightmare Moon’s magic was responsible for the forest’s aberrant nature and the old city’s subsequent exodus. Recalling the author’s name took a little more time, but she eventually teased it out from memory.
“I think so. Professor Fern Sight the Wise wrote that.”
The stallion’s eyes gleamed. “Is his… ah, hypothesis on Everfree’s nature correct?”
“Uh, no. It’s been disproven.”
“It has, hasn’t it?”
Twilight felt the hairs at the back of her neck rising as the stallion cracked a gleeful grin. “When did everypony put an end to his nonsense?”
She discreetly repositioned herself between Spike and the stallion before answering. “About eighty years ago. Nightmare Moon was responsible, not entropy.”
The stallion nodded in apparent satisfaction. “Well, better late than never, I suppose. Now, if you’ll excuse me for a moment…”
Twilight tensed up as the stallion sat on his haunches and took a deep breath…
“Hah! I knew it!”
“Gah!” Spike yelped at the stallion’s ear-splitting bellow and leaped onto her back.
Twilight herself cringed at the volume. She’d nearly activated her defensive barrier, but quickly realised that he had only yelled up at the vaulted ceiling, loudly enough for his echoing voice to bring tiny cascades of dust down as he shook his hoof at an imaginary foe.
“Took them two blasted centuries to see through your mountain of horse apples, but they finally did it! Who’s the wise one now, huh? Not Professor Fern Sight it isn’t! That’s a hoot and a holler, hee hee!” The stallion fell onto his back and loosed a series of deep-bellied guffaws, grinning all the while like a maniac. “Oh, master, what I wouldn’t give to see your face upon hearing of your oh-so-brilliant student’s buffoonery. Hah hah. Heh…”
He crumpled into a twitching heap of chuckles, staring at the ceiling as his mirth gradually drained away, leaving him a little breathless.
“Everypony down here is completely nuts,” Spike whispered to her.
“Come now, I heard that,” the stallion growled. “But it’s true enough; you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear what you just said.”
“That you’re crazy?”
His eyes narrowed. “No, you lizardy dolt. To hear the wind taken out of my fellow, ah, academician’s sails, so to speak. Fern Sight’s far-fetched nonsense would never have seen the light of day hadn’t his father been the Archwizard of Canterlot. That it stood for so long speaks volumes of the power disparity between popularity and truth.”
Twilight felt a pit opening up in her stomach. The stallion’s apparent familiarity with famous ponies from hundreds of years ago did not bode well for their situation. “Just who are you?”
He righted himself and sat up on his haunches in order to give her a slight bow. “Professor Parch Mint, Department of History and Magic, Canterlot University.”
She frowned.
Parch Mint’s ears flattened as he let loose a weary sigh. “Never heard of me, eh? Not surprising, since I never quite got the chance to finish collecting evidence against Fern Sight’s hypothesis. No fame for me, sadly. Not even the chance to rub it in his face.”
She bit her lip. This is bad. This is really bad.
His mouth twisted into a grim smile. “Welcome to my life. Or afterlife, quite possibly. I was forty-seven when I first stuck my snout into this accursed castle. Today, I’m two hundred and ninety-three.” He then made a sweeping gesture at the fortress of books surrounding him. “If you pace yourself carefully, you might be able to fend off insanity for at least fifty years. Good luck!”