Chương 23: Ink in Motion

Lira sat in her alcove, the parchment still resting before her.

"Asatan. Tir. Kisar." The ink responded. It flowed where she willed it, forming clean lines, steady curves, and precise letters. Lord Kenth Kelroth will die at my hands. She watched the ink settle and waited for it to dry.

"Alright… let's test it some more." First things first, could she move this ink again after it dried off, or was it a once-and-done deal?

"Asatan. Tir. Kisar." The ink shifted once more, turning into another sentence. Revenge is a dish best served cold. It did work, but how new does it need to be for it to work? She picked up one of the governess books; these books were at least 30 years old.

"Asatan. Tir. Kisar." The author's name shifted from a normal spelling to a beautiful calligraphic art composition. Her mouth opened wide in surprise.

"This is insane!" she couldn't help but shout out loud. She considered the different uses of this spell. If she didn't need to work with fresh ink, she didn't need to forge new documents; she just needed to counterfeit an old one, changing names or other strategic spots. There was less risk of being detected by people noticing the paper quality or seals. Now, just like with the candle spell, did she need to see the paper to cast, or did she only need visualization?

She placed the first page on the table and stepped out of the alcove. She closed her eyes and pictured it. The sheet. The position. The angle of the table. Every detail she could remember. Her hand lifted again, hovering in the air.

"Asatan. Tir. Kisar." She could feel the spell working. Her eyes snapped open, and she stepped back in. The text she had imagined was there, written cleanly across the page. If the quills failed my father, I will use magic instead. A slow smile spread across her face.

"It works…" Next, she pictured an ink drawing of Tessa. She closed her eyes again, forcing the image to stay clear in her mind.

"Asatan. Tir. Kisar." The ink obeyed. The smiling face of the maid greeted her; she guessed that drawings were technically symbols too. It was made with around the same artistic level as Lira could manage by hand, only it was done in seconds rather than minutes. Lira let out a quiet laugh, unable to contain it. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"This is… this is perfect." She did not stop there. Her gaze drifted to a nearby stack of older documents, their edges yellowed, and the ink faded with time. She reached for one and laid it flat. The letters were barely visible, worn thin by time. She frowned slightly.

"Let's see…" She added a splash of ink to the margin.

"Asatan. Tir. Kisar." The ink shifted, moving from the added blob to the page itself. The faded lines darkened, gathering and reforming. Lira leaned closer, her eyes widening.

"It's working…" The ink responded, drawn back into form, as if it had never faded at all. She swallowed. She wasn't sure if she subconsciously guided the spell to the correct configuration or if the spell moved just on her intent for restoration.

"Again." She grabbed another sheet, worse than the first, nearly blank to the naked eye. The ink had faded from old water damage; she could probably restore it with a magnifying glass and a lot of work. She had done something similar for Pallan before, but there was no way she would be able to do it now in this low candlelight and without her tools. So it went without saying that she didn't know what the text said. She let a single drop of fresh ink fall onto the page. Then…

"Asatan. Tir. Kisar." The drop spread. It flowed across the parchment, seeking paths, tracing lines that already existed but could not be seen. The words emerged, faint at first, then clearer, completely and utterly restored. Lira's breath caught.

"This changes everything…" Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted the page. Half the books she had placed in the discard pile had suddenly become fixable.

"Does the page remember…" she muttered, "or does my confidence that I could have fixed it by hand if I had the right tools help somehow?" Lira laughed softly, the sound almost disbelieving.

"This… this is amazing… Magic is awesome!" She was still smiling when she heard it. Distant footsteps, but growing closer by the second. Lira froze. She did not recognize the rhythm, meaning it was neither Celene nor Hesta… Her heart skipped once, then started beating faster. There were multiple people. Instinct took over. First, she dropped the warm pocket spell. Suddenly, the cold seeped into her bones like a starving wolf. A shiver ran through her, adding urgency to her steps.

She stood quickly and moved toward the nearest window, pushing it shut with both hands. The wood creaked as it slid into place. Another few steps, and another window was closed. She kept moving as if she had been working the entire time. The door opened. Lira turned. Three men stepped inside. They wore mail armor, similar to the gate guards that had greeted her on her first day. The first was older, his posture rigid, his expression sharp and suspicious.

He was the only one not wearing a helm, his face weathered and scarred. Behind him stood two younger men who were dressed in similar armor, but theirs looked newer and pristine; their bearing was straighter, and they gave off the look of nobles. Lira lowered her gaze slightly, but did not stop moving.

"Girl," the older guard called.

"Come closer." Lira stepped away from the window and approached them, wiping her hands lightly on her apron.

"Yes, sir?"

"We've had reports," he said, voice rough, "of a dust cloud coming from this tower a few days ago." Lira nodded quickly, her posture tightening just enough.

"Yes, sir. That would be my fault, sir."

"Oh?" His eyes narrowed.

"Explain."

"The windows hadn't been opened in years, sir," Lira said, keeping her tone respectful and steady.

"When I opened them, a large amount of dust escaped at once." She gestured slightly toward the shelves.

"This place looked worse than it does now, sir."

"There is much less dust," she added.

"It won't happen again, sir." The guard studied her.

"Are you sure you weren't dumping your bags of dirt from the windows into the wind?" Lira shook her head immediately.

"I would never do that, sir." He didn't look convinced. Before he could press further, one of the younger men stepped forward.

"This is great-grandmother's library," he said, glancing around.

"It looks a lot better than I remember." Lira stilled. The realization hit instantly. This was the second prince; Tessa had told her that he was always in armor, training with the guards. She dropped into a bow without hesitation.

"Your Highness, my apologies. I didn't recognize you."

"Smart one, isn't she?" the other young man said lightly, he had blond hair covering half his forehead, dipping from under his helm.

"Why are you working alone?" the prince asked. Lira straightened slightly, but kept her gaze lowered.

"I was hired by the late Steward Atropos to clean this place, your Highness. Both Lady Celene and Lord Harwin have seen fit that I should continue my duties." The prince nodded.

"Good," he said.

"I always hated that we had a tower wasting space. Keep working." With that, he turned and left. The other young man gave her a casual salute before following. The older guard lingered a moment longer, his eyes still suspicious.

"Be careful next time," he muttered, then turned and left as well. The door closed, and the silence returned. Lira stood still for a moment, her heart pounding too fast in her chest. Then she exhaled a long, slow breath.

"…That was close." Her shoulders relaxed as the tension drained from her body. Only when they were gone did she allow herself to shiver again.