After depositing her new belongings in the guest room, Salih led her next door. They stood before the public library's heavy oak door. He cleared his throat, adopting a hushed, lecture-hall tone. "Now, inside, we whisper. We are quiet. We do not disturb other patrons. It's a simple—" He cut himself off, blinking. Serena had gone very still, her expression one of intense internal calculation as she tried to conceptualize telepathically 'whispering'.
Salih's cheeks flushed a faint red. "Right. That's... an issue." He lowered his own voice further. "Can you not direct the telepathy? To a single person?"
Serena considered it. The mechanics of the spell, as inherited, were instinctual but understood. She saw the mana structures in her mind's eye: a broadcast signal, not exactly the most tuned frequency. [It's a transmutation of intent into mana, which nearby minds can interpret,] she explained carefully. [Focusing it solely on one mind... I could try, but the control required is extreme. There's a possibility I would not 'whisper' into your mind, Salih. I might... shout. Or worse.] She didn't elaborate on the 'worse.'
Virgil's use of focused telepathy to shatter wills and instill madness. That skill was in the archive, but locked behind a door she had no intention of opening.
Salih processed this, then sighed. "Fine. Then I will talk, and you will not 'say' anything. Nod, point, take notes. Understood?"
Serena nodded, though a bit butt-hurt at essentially being told to shut up.
Inside, her first impression was of light and space. The library was far grander than the exterior suggested, with multiple balconied floors surrounding a central atrium. The ceiling was a vast dome of glass, bathing the interior in the pale, clear arctic sunlight. It felt both ostentatious and deeply familiar, smelling of old paper and polished wood. It was, she realized, the size of a well-funded metropolitan library from her own world.
Salih guided her forward, his voice a low murmur. "It was a gift to the town, many generations ago, from the Witch Coven on the New Continent. The community maintains it through taxes. However, much of the furniture, the shelves, even the lighting formations—are crafted from self-sustaining magical materials. They absorb ambient mana as fuel and, through their natural cycle, 'exhale' a surplus. It's a net-positive mana environment. Good for preservation and concentration. There are areas for meditation."
He pointed out sections as they walked: Natural Sciences, Arcane Theory, Literature. "You," he instructed, "should focus on Linguistics, Law, and History. Start there. For current events, the periodicals and newspapers are on the first floor near the horticulture section. There are always librarians on duty. Only approach them if absolutely necessary. They are busy, competent people who do not need a telepathic anomaly giving them a crisis before lunch."
The bluntness was, by now, expected. Serena nodded, already scanning the shelves apparently marked Language & Lexicon.
"I expect at least four hours of study daily," Salih continued. "I assume you can decipher the text using some variant of your translation spell. Speaking of which..." He turned to face her, his gaze analytical. "How do you know that spell? Accurate, real-time translation magic of that caliber is a specialized field. It requires years of study in Linguistic magic."
Serena met his eyes, acting on his prompt to speak. [It came naturally. When I woke up here a couple years ago, understanding how to manipulate mana was just there. Instinct.] It was a half-truth, the most palatable version of the parasitic inheritance. [I've focused my practice on control. Freezing, sustained flight—these I am confident in. The translation, the telepathy... they require constant, conscious effort. They are not yet effortless.]
Salih's eyes narrowed slightly. "Backtrack. You said you've been here a 'couple of years.' How did you learn flight, instinctively, in that time, after a full life in a magic-less world? That is harder than an intermediate skill."
[I don't know,] she sent. [It was gradual. I knew I probably could, so I practiced until I didn't fall.] She conveniently omitted the timeline of weeks, not years.
"Transmigrators," Salih muttered, shaking his head. "Freaks of nature."
She knew he didn't meant it, but a flicker of mock indignation made her furrow an eyebrow.
Seeing her expression, he relented slightly. "... Since you're probably wondering, what I know about your 'kind' is basic. You are enigmas from different time periods—appearing every few centuries or millennia, always from this 'Earth.' No one knows the 'how' or 'why.' Some are marked in history. Some probably lived and died without anyone ever knowing. There are no records of anyone 'returning'—if that was a hope of yours."
It wasn't. She shook her head.
"As far as public knowledge goes," he continued, "there are no confirmed transmigrators currently alive. However, I would not be surprised if a few were hiding in plain sight. After all, there's nothing to gain from announcing it. Earth's history is already well-documented in various academic spaces. Though, you might have something new to offer." Looking at the library once again, she had a feeling she didn't—even with her study in the humanities.
She figured many, many years have passed since his death. In addition to the lack of severe inequality, this level of technology for the general populace was not a thing back then. It would be presumptuous to assume they were currently less 'developed' than 21st century Earth—especially knowing the latter's many issues. She thought back to America's deepening fever. Perhaps her transmigration was a blessing, in a way. She got to leave that train-wreck—even getting the opportunity to take revenge on Virgil and end his legacy for good.
... Though, she did feel bad for the people. She should've done more to help them. A faint disappointment showed on her face.
"Cease looking like an abused rat," Salih said, his tone dry. "You have the same potential as those who came before you. Take Ama Lou, for example—the historian I mentioned. She didn't just mourn her old world. She used its lessons. In the face of the Light Continent's colonial expansion, she proposed legal and economic reforms that went on to help many nations—continents—resist absorption. She was also a pioneer in bridging cultural and linguistic gaps. She left a legacy."
The story was a comfort, a torch in the dark. [Where is she now?] Serena asked, hoping for a peer, however distant.
"Died peacefully of old age, about three centuries ago. She is an extremely important historical figure in many countries."
Of course. The timeline here was immense.
It was odd. She figured transmigration would be a way bigger deal than it was. But then again, this world was unbelievably vast compared to Earth. It had countless extreme ecosystems—most likely due to mana. 'Ordinary' wasn't the default. You can even bend the elements in accordance to your will. The idea of a multiverse was on the metaphysical, but it made enough sense. Why wouldn't there be multiple worlds? Judging by how Salih was speaking about it, it was probably treated as a topic with moderate historical significance, and a rare phenomenon. However, for her, it was still a burning question.
Transmigration was not a thing during Virgil's era—as far as she knew.
After a moment of silence, a morbid curiosity, sharp and anxious, compelled her. She had to know. She formed the question carefully, layering it with hesitant curiosity. [Salih... have you ever heard the name 'Virgil'? I think... I heard it somewhere.]
The moment the name left her mind-space, she wanted to snatch it back. 'Where could you have possibly heard it? You've spoken to no one but the townspeople.'
Salih's gaze sharpened, the scholar's lens focusing. "Virgil?" he repeated quietly. "Where could you have heard that? From the corpses on the island?"
Serena froze in shock, then shrugged after realizing his question was completely serious. It was a gesture of pure, awkward helplessness.
He studied her for a long few seconds, a glint of fresh, analytical suspicion in his eyes. "No," he said finally, his voice low. "I have never encountered that name in any historical content, or the news. It sounds like it could be from the Light Continent. Why?"
[No reason,] she sent, too quickly, turning her attention firmly to a shelf. [It just came to mind.]
The silence between them then was different, no longer just the quiet of a library, but filled with the shared, unspoken knowledge that something had just peered through.