You find Adamo openly weeping outside the closed doors to the Heart.

Immediately, you drop to the ground and hold him tightly, not bothering to speak anything. What could you possibly say? So instead you simply embrace your friend in silence, and slowly, the Italian’s heaves slow and his sobs quieten. Then together you stand and begin to walk back towards the Portals.

“I will never forget you and your bravery, Senor Wick,” confides Adamo. “You have taught me much.”

“I could say the same thing to you,” you smile sadly. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a folded piece of paper and hand it to Adamo. “Something to remember me by.”

Adamo unfurls the sheet of paper, revealing a sketched scene of two men in a ship’s cabin. One of them holds their arm uselessly by their side and has a look of surprise on their face, while the other has enwrapped them in a mighty bug hug, a look of pride adorning their face. It is the scene of Adamo visiting you right after you were bitten by the Serpent.

Adamo’s voice is very tight as he whispers, “Thank you, Wick.”

The two of you embrace for one last time, then part. Aster is waiting for you when you do.

“Are you ready?”

You take a deep breath. “I am.”

“Then I need you to sign here.”

Aster produces a concise contract with a dotted line at the bottom. You read through the terms of your employment, then, satisfied, sign your name at the bottom. As soon as you do, you feel yourself surrounded by blindingly-white light, feeling it course through your body for a second before it fades.

“Welcome to the Library, Wick Harper.”

Incarnation 2: So. Many. Stairs. I swear, if Urick sends me to find one more book authored by someone beginning with an 'A'…

Incarnation 6: Saw my first penguin today. Nippy thing. Watching Pascale try to catch one might just be the highlight of my career.

Incarnation 13: Found a strange one. We're in the far future, but the aesthetic is like a mishmash of all the periods of history. The librarian was even able to see some of us.

This Incarnation is a dense array of leaning bookshelves, towering furniture, and haphazardly stacked items, meaning it is full to the brim with narrow tunnels, tight cubby holes, and claustrophobic passageways.

In other words, perfect for you.

You squeeze your way between two upturned sofas and settle into a hollow nestled within them. For a moment, you let the quiet of the Library fill you with peace, settling your racing pulse and stilling your thoughts. This is a lovely place. Perhaps you’ll stay here for a few minutes.

“WICK! WICK! Where are you?” seethes Aster.

Perhaps you’ll stay here for a few hours. It’s nice here, after all. No texts to be fetching. No Pests to be battling. Just you and your thoughts. You let your eyes slip shut.

“Damnit, Wick, when I find you, you’re going to wish the worst I did was flood your room!”

You peel an eyelid open. You did not flood their room. At worst, you got the floor a little wet. And some of the walls. And perhaps a few drops got on the ceiling. But how were you supposed to know the big red X on the floor was to mark the plumbing and not in fact any buried treasure? I mean, really, at that point the architects were just asking for someone to try to dig up their floor.

“He might be hiding in the stacks,” suggests Alexander. “I’ll take a look over here.”

You try to shy away from the narrow slit of light as you hear Alexander’s footsteps approaching, but sure enough, it is soon occupied by the face of your fellow Eternal Employee.

“Nothing in here,” calls out Alexander, shooting you a momentary wink before disappearing from sight again.

“Perhaps we should try the map room?” offers Pascale. “Monsieur Wick does so enjoy reading those…”

You let out a sigh of relief as the footsteps move away. You’ll come out once Aster’s socks have dried and they’ve calmed down a bit. No matter how angry they get at you, you know they’ll always come around eventually.

Even if they do set you on alphabetising duty for the next Incarnation.

“Oi, move up, fatty, we’re trying to get in,” squeaks a little voice from beside your hand. You glance down and see a dozen Laughing Lamps shuffling into your cubby hole, which wouldn’t be too bad, if they weren’t open oil lamp in this Incarnation.

“Hey! Watch the flame! Why do you guys need hiding anyway?”

“Someone had the grand old idea to try to set fire to AngeloS’ wig.”

“I didn’t mean to! I just wanted to see what it felt like.”

“Suffice to say, we’re not coming out again for a while.”

“Heeeeeyyy! Are you guys hiding in here?!” exclaims Larry, the Shifting Book Ladder glancing in through the narrow entryway.

“Yes, so please, be quiet,” you hiss.

“Oh yeah! I can be quiet!” Larry shouts. “Let me join you guys!”

“No, no, no, n—!”

Finding yourself jammed between an inanimate sofa and a chattering, horizontal ladder, cufflink on fire, Lamps shushing each others’ shushing, you consider for a moment that this is your job. A job of insanity, of hard work, of crazy bosses and crazier colleagues. A job where the rules are constantly changing, and the environment is as varied as the continents.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Wick!”

Alphabetising for two Incarnations it is.