Trigger Warning: Gore, body horror involving the mouth.

Angelo's contract soon arrives to you in a gilded Tiffany blue gift box, packaged with a giant silver bow. On a small name tag, your name is written in the most illustrious cursive. Opening it, you find a scroll bound with more silver ribbon. As you unfurl it by its jade ends, you see that the words are written in both black and gold script, the words overlap each other but because you can only see the gold when the page catches the light, it is still fairly readable.

Angelo has been fairly kind in binding you to the Library for all eternity. They give you no restrictions on power, movement, meals or lodging, plus full cover on healthcare issues of the arcane kind.

Excellent! The only kind you can't actually fix yourself.

The contract does detail that you are obliged to attend all Guardian meetings, and have to make yourself useful in some vague way, but you can tell Angelo left that part of the contract open to interpretation, such that you may decide what you do. It makes you realise that he has a kind side to him, and that he was genuinely grateful for the wig, which now looks fabulous on him (though, you still think you wore it better).

In signing it, you feel a warmth creep through your entire body. You take your gloves off to brush at your hands, feeling like candle wax may have dripped on your skin, but there is nothing. You feel your arms and legs turn cold as the warming sensation fades, your bones feel stronger than ever as you are being cast for eternity in this form. Never to age again.

It is all you ever wanted.

But now, as you go up to the Portals, they do plainly feel like sheets of glass, your hand can no longer go through, and the reality of being stuck here sinks in. Adamo comes to find you as you contemplate the doors of the outside world closing for you.

“Doctor…” You curtsey, stepping aside from the Portal. “I'm afraid that your patients await you on the other side.” There is a remorse in your voice you did not expect.

“Signora Pascale, I….”

You tried every avenue you could to let Adamo stay, almost as hard as you've tried to cover up your transgressions.

“…it has been an honour.”

It makes you think about why? What about him made you do such a thing that for once wasn't about you. Not directly at least.

“No! A pleasure!”

Perhaps it was his awkwardness that presented a breath of fresh air amongst the cocky bastards that infested Paris.

“I mean-

He stutters.

Or perhaps it was his compassion that chose to see past your evil. A fog so thick that even you cannot see past it. And yet, he fancied you for more than just your sins. In that perhaps, you felt that with him, you could be more than just your sins.

“I want you to know you are one of the most amazing women I have ever met.”

But that doesn't mean the sins cease to exist.

“Your beauty is unparalleled and only challenged by your knowledge in alchemy I just-”

You pull him by his collar and kiss him rather brazenly for a lady of your standing. But it is not like there were any other nobles to watch. The status of people like Angelo and people of the clergy such as Tenebrus were balanced out by the likes of Gretch and Saxber.

In mixed company such as this, all rules were out the window.

How long had it been since your heart actually beat faster through physical affection? You cannot remember yourself. And you don't think the not one, but multiple tongue-like sensations sliding between you both is causing it.

It seems that you have given Adamo more than a memory to remember you by, but that does not matter to you.

In fact, “Thank you, Adamo, for being the last thing to ever matter to me.”

He tries to speak, but something beige and slimy slides out through his lips. He holds his mouth closed in shock.

As the undulating leech drops into the palm of his hand, you feel a pang of pity shoot through you. You reach into the folds of your dress and press into his leech-free hand a translucent, orange vial with a thick white cap on top.

You give him a peck on the cheek. And, as he leaves through the portal, you cross the word consequence out of your vocabulary forever.

Ingredients:

• 15 grams onion
• 20 separate sweets (must be as different as possible for best results)
• 1 tablespoon of Candied peel oil (recipe on page 52)
• 2 pinches Old Salt
• 1 pinch Ashes from The Hearth
• 4 pods of Sires Plant Durian (scraped off from their seeds, the ones cultivated in spring are best)
• 1 frog leg

Procure 20 sweets, Guests sometimes leave these behind in the Library, or drop them on the floor. They are different in each time period we visit. Use ones as different as possible for this. Unwrap them and place in a blender with all other ingredients.

A blender is a large vase with two spinning blades at it's bottom. Alexander introduced me to the contraption and I have found it more efficient than a mortar and pestle for grinding ingredients together.

The concoction will be rather vile. But two spoonfuls is rather enough to paralyse the tongue of any creature up to the size of a cow, leaving them to die a slow death.

Ingredients:

• Almonds
• Filtered Water
• Salt
• Dates

Blend the almonds and dates in Alexander's 'Blender' contraption together with pre-boiled, clean and filtered water. Then drain the pulp through a muslin cloth. Add a pinch of salt.

This revolutionary 'milk' was discovered in Hiro's Hoot House in 2019 Japan. It tastes like milk, but is clearly not. Wildly fascinating as a substance and great in teas and coffee.

It is the name of many penguins through Pascale's life. The one from an Antarctic research facility, which she tempted with trout until it followed her back to the research tent was by far the first, and arguably most loved. But as they left for their next adventure, Pascale found out the hard way that life, though eternal, is made up of many small losses.

Many small pricks, each drawing a small wound.

The second was a Fairy penguin along the coast of Cape Town at the turn of the century. One wandered up to the bookshop one day and Pascale had thought Adelie had come to visit. Though she soon realised it was not Adelie at all. Though, it could take her place for now, she supposed.

Mortals do not have time to stop the bleeding, but you can.

The third was in the San Diego Zoo. She was certainly the most massive, and the first attempt made at transcendence. Pascale was used to chasing immortality for herself, but she didn't think she would have to do this all again for a loved one, let alone Adelie.

Adelie became less of a unique name and more of a title, one given to the receiver of Pascale's affections.

After all, she did have a penchant for 'Ad' names.

Adelie was found in zoos, captivity, cliffsides and other snowy landscapes. All over the world, all across time and yet… nowhere. At least not really.

The thing they don't tell you about immortality is who you get to spend it with.

Or without.

You are running barefoot on damp ground, your dress catching branches as you rush into hooded darkness. Owls take flight as you push past the brambles of dying rose bushes, the glint of silver behind you keeping you running.

Suddenly your hands are pressed up against a tree too big to run around, you turn back and see the cloaked figure floating closer. His skeletal hands over the giant scythe in his hands. He hasn't spoken a word, but you know exactly what, who, he's here for.

As he slices down, you wake up.

In a cold sweat you go to your washbasin and splash ice cold water onto your face. Looking up into the mirror with your hair wet, you wonder if he will ever find you in this realm too.

Every night it feels like they're getting closer, you can even hear the wheels of their carriage. Sometimes you even see the hearse, the flames they burn you in.

But you always wake up before they catch you.

You remind yourself that you're safe, that you don't have to answer to the bells of judgement that ring so ardently in your head.

There are days where you smash your mirror, where you throw the washbasin to the floor in frustration. There are letters coming to collect taxes you no longer need to pay.

Sins you no longer need to atone for.

Looking up into the mirror with your hair drenched, you tell yourself he will never find you here.

Looking up into the mirror you say to yourself that you've won.

You've escaped.