Following the visit of two rather unpleasant snails, you realise that it had been some time since you sat down in your still-relatively bare Personal Library, with only your Tome and Sires Plant for company. At least, that is how it feels as you take a seat on the cool floor, and almost immediately feel the hammering in your chest slow to a soft, steady 'thmp, thmp, thmp.'

Of course, a lot has happened in the short time you spent away from the Hub World and your Personal Library. The Hoot House has not lasted long. Gone in the blink of an eye, a swing of the sword, a flash of radiant light - you shudder at the memory. Somehow, the light has not claimed you and the other Chosen, but that doesn't mean it didn't claim the remaining Guests of the Hoot House…

You glance at Sires Plant. They have changed as well. No longer just 'Sire Plant', now Sire Plant and Sire Host. A small smile touches your thin lips.

“I'll repot you soon, Sires Plant,” you promise, fingers grazing against the cracks in the ceramic pot where eager roots had burst through. You attempt to hide your concern. Again, you are no botanist, but your instincts warn that you cannot leave many plants long with exposed roots. You could not bear if the Sires Plant became ill or, God forbid, died due to your carelessness, your sloth, your lack of knowledge…

You put a hand on the cover of your Tome. That's what it always comes down to, isn't it? With the Gargoyles, with Sires Plant, with your Tome… it's your lack of knowledge, that whisper in your mind saying that its beauty is beyond you.

But in a strange way, your chat with those Gargoyles has emboldened you, even if briefly. So, you shake your head. You can't give up now. Not yet. You need to at least try.

The pages open with a sigh, and you flick mutely to the section about the Guardians. Other Chosen had offhandedly mentioned that this section had been updated, that the Guardians' general identities and roles had finally been confirmed.

This is good news. It means the others had been successful. That they were steadily unlocking the secrets of the Library. Your fingers touch the first entry, the one that had been there since the beginning. It now reads:

“DECEASED: The Serpent of the Pears”

As you gently brush these words, the ink forming the letters of 'DECEASED' in particularly large and bold strokes, you could swear for a moment that you see the words 'The Serpent of the Pears' begin to swirl and fade. You rub your eyes. It must be your vision, your mind playing tricks on you. Right? This has happened before, especially with large, difficult-to-read blocks of text. Brother Johannes warned that it was better to sit back, breath, and rest your eyes and spirit when this happened. Better not to push yourself past your limits, but wait and be patient.

So you stare at the wall with the pieces of paper, each with a large letter on them, allowing your thoughts to drift… and drift… and drift…

Then you return, glancing down at your Tome, and see that the entirety of the Serpent's entry is faded, as if with the irreversible passage of time. Still legible, but barely.

“What… Sires Plant… what do you both think…?” you ask sheepishly. Consulting Sires Plant has become second nature to you by now.

In response, there is a sharp rap at the door. You startle, leaving your Tome open on the floor next to the softly undulating Sires Plant as you hurry to the door, and pull the simple thing open.

Behind it is none other than Sal, with her arms full of several different containers, using her chin to keep them all balanced and secure. She offers you a strained smile, and you can see sweat beginning to bead on her forehead.

“Hi Sed, do you mind if I visit for a bit? I'd… uh… like to help you with Sires Plant?”

This is… unexpected. A surprise, though you are not sure yet if it is an unwelcome one. You hesitate, still holding the handle. But it is Sal… and the two of you have struck up a welcome camaraderie lately.

You could use the distraction if nothing else.

You speak before you can change your mind. “Sal, hello, I… that… that would be nice. Yes. Please come in.”

Sal's expression turns to one of stark relief. She enters your Personal Library and dumps the contents of her arms onto the floor near Sires Plant. You are closing the door behind her when you remember that you left your Tome open, whirling around to find Sal leaning over it.

“Were you reading about the Guardians, Sed?” she asks, and you immediately imagine the judgement touching her voice like it had touched others' in your past. People who implied in the subtlest of ways that your efforts were silly, useless, worthless.

You yelp and run over, slamming your Tome closed, the ornate cover staring up at both of you.

“Uh… no… I mean… yes! Why do you ask?” You try, unsuccessfully you know, to keep the sudden panic out of your voice. What would Sal say? Would they say there is no need for you to practice reading? That the other Chosen can handle that while you sit back and watch?

Sal lowers herself to the floor by her pile of pots and crosses her legs. She stares at you, eyes glinting with some unreadable emotion. You suddenly consider that you haven't really known Sal all that long, yet the extremity of the circumstances you had experienced together and the intensity of the accompanying emotions… it makes you feel you have known her for much, much longer.

“I just was thinking earlier that… well…” Sal stops, pausing with an anxious expression. She looks as torn as you are beginning to feel. Part of you wants Sal to leave, but oh no… that might ruin your friendship. Maybe you could leave instead?

You are still fighting the urge to flee when Sal pulls out her Tome (a thin, flat, metal slab), presses something on its side, and shows you its glassy surface. Large, clean lettering appears in big, black strokes, and even from a short distance away you are able to make out that this is the Guardians' page, though the style is different. “I wanted to show you a feature that I think would help you learn to read faster!” she blurts out.

You want to object, to politely decline Sal's offer. But she doesn't wait for your response as she clicks on a glowing passage, and a soft, female voice emits from the Tome and reads out what is written: Libraries, for all their grandeur, are fragile structures. A simple spark can be enough to bring them down. In other words, they need protection. That's where we come in.

“What the devil?!” you cry out and leap backwards, careful not to disturb the Sires Plant. Does Sal's tome contain an imprisoned entity? Something beyond the Library Guardians? From her timeline? The voice sounds fake, wrong, not even of this Earth.

Sal presses the screen, and the disembodied voice is suddenly silenced. What power Sal holds over it! Sal holds out her Tome for you to see, a reassuring smile on her face. You eye it as you would a wild beast. Too dangerous to approach without careful preparation, if at all. “In my time we call it a 'text-to-speech' mode. It helps people read texts, even long, complicated ones, whether they are multitasking or their brain can't focus on visually making out the words… These kinds of features make reading, make knowledge, accessible for all.”

You stare at Sal's Tome, and your fear fades, replaced by a sudden, burning excitement. You can… read it! The effort to spell out some words and their meanings is still there, but your eyes move down the lines with fewer stops, nearly twice as fast as you usually do.

“Dame Sal! This… this is wonderful! Not just the, eh…” You struggle to recall what she called it, the strange, demonic voice from the future.

“Text-to-speech mode?”

“Yes, that! But, also, how are the letters so simple, so clear, there are no extra bits, no letters bleeding into each other…” You trail off, clutching Sal's Tome tight, unable to tear your eyes away from the words. Away from the letters that are no longer dancing and pirouetting away from your comprehension quite so often. It makes reading your own Tome feel like torture by comparison.

Sal tilts her head. “No extra bits?”

“Yes! Like these!” You grab your own Tome, open it again to the Guardians' page to drive home your point, and jab a finger at the lettering on your prayer book Tome versus Sal's futuristic Tome.

Sal's mouth drops open slightly. “You mean… a serif text like this…” She points to your Tome, to the curling, illustrious lettering. “As compared to a sans serif text like this?” Sal's finger drifts from one Tome to the other, pointing at the extra lines that adorn the letters of your Tome. They are noticeably absent from hers.

You bob your head up and down. “It's much easier to make out the individual letters. Some of the words are still… difficult… but better.”

Sal nods with a small smile. “I can't blame you, Sed. To be honest, your Tome is hard for me to read too.”

You can scarcely contain your surprise. Hard for Sal? But Sal is good at everything! She can do so much more than you, is so much more capable of a Chosen. Yet, here she is, admitting that the writing in your Tome is no simple task to comprehend.

You are reluctant to believe her, even if you do trust her on most matters.

“Maybe, you can get your Tome to change lettering?” Sal suggests. “Or even have the text-to-speech mode, erm, installed?”

You cringe at the thought of that voice coming from your Tome as well. And that sounds too good to be true. Too good to happen to you.

You stare at your own Tome, wondering if the beautifully complex letters within are a punishment designed for you in particular. But Brother Johannes could read it. So could the other monks and knights… even some of the farmers in the next village over. If all of them could manage, then your failure is a mark of your own shame, and to run away from it would be to deny the truth. “I… it would be wrong to change such beauty for the sake of someone like me. I do not deserve it. If I am unable to parse the pages as they are, then I am unworthy of even possessing this manuscript, let alone transfiguring its form.”

“Sed…” Sal begins, then stops. When she starts again, her voice is quiet but firm, as though she is trying to convince you of how much she believes the words she is saying. “It's not a matter of being worthy or not. Finding it difficult to read, particularly certain types of font, that doesn't make you a worse person. It just means your brain works differently. Different. Not worse.”

You consider what she has said, trying to integrate her words with your understanding of the way things are. “My brain works differently… because I am unworthy?”

“No!” Sal practically barks, louder than you've heard her before, and for the next several seconds she can only huff and sign furiously in the air before her, the gestures coming far too quickly for you to understand them. When Sal finally gets her exasperation under control, she continues, though there is still an air of restrained frustration to her words, although strangely you sense this is not directed at you. “Your brain works differently because… because we're all different! But that doesn't make us less important than anyone else. You're not less important than me, Sed.”

You look back down at Sal's Tome in your hands, at the blocky letters that dance around less when you focus on them. Can what Sal says really be true? Is it wrong for you to be so ashamed of your lack of ability, when Sal has never looked down on you because of it? “Is it… is it even possible to change my Tome? How would I begin to attempt such a feat?”

Sal is silent for some time, clearly deep in thought. Eventually she settles on, “I think we should ask a Guardian in the next Incarnation. They might know.”

You nod slowly, though you are still uncertain. You set down Sal's Tome, feeling a twinge of shame for grabbing and lusting after it, but Sal doesn't even bother picking it up.

“How about we try re-potting Sires Plant?” she suggests instead.

You lift your gaze, grateful for the change in topic. “Ah, yes! The Sires do need a new home!”

So the two of you begin the task of rooting through the items Sal had brought, holding each one up to the Sires Plant, comparing height and diameter as well as the material different vessels are made out of. Eventually you agree to try a large, reinforced, plastic and glass tank that Sal explains used to hold some sort of enormous spider called a… tarantula? When she describes them you shudder and praise God they no longer occupy this vessel.

Sal has also brought some porous, moisture-absorbing rocks, moss, and sand (to supplement the Sires Plant's soil, she explains).

The next task is to carefully and gently disentangle Sires Plant's root system from their current pot. You hover over them, concern clenching your heart and body. You explain that Sal cannot separate Sire Plant and Sire Host, and she reassures you that 'no, of course not, they belong together.'

You are placated for now and feel a small sort of warmth for being able to pass on the knowledge Efsan had shared with you to Sal.

All goes well until Sal declares that Sires Plant cannot be extricated from the pot without shattering the terracotta vessel. Sal holds up a small hammer. Wow, she really came prepared.

“May I?” Sal asks, but also holds the hammer out to you, handle first. “Unless you want to?”

“I… I'll do it,” you finally respond. As Sires Plant's temporary protector, you feel it is your duty, your responsibility, to take on this delicate task. You pray you do not mess it up. You crouch down and, after a moment's hesitation, hammer down at the lip of the terracotta pot. One. Two. Three. Four. Five – the pot cracks and breaks, leaving the Sires Plant squatting in the remaining soil, naked as a plant could be.

You and Sal exchange a determined nod. As one, both of you lift up Sires Plant, then lower them onto the bed of dirt and sand Sal had laid in the new tank. Once the roots touch soil and rock, you and Sal begin shuffling more soil on top from either side until Sire Plant and Sire Host are both nestled comfortably in their new abode.

The two of you share a triumphant grin.

“Sal, we did it!” you exclaim, looking proudly at the newly re-potted Sires Plant.

“Yes, we did! Sires Plant should be okay for now–” Sal starts, then she stops suddenly, and you follow her gaze to also notice a couple of petals and leaves have fluttered to the floor between you and Sal.

You reach down, pick one up, and cough in disbelief, even though you have borne witness to this miracle before. You show it to Sal.

On it is a perfectly serif-free letter, 'S'.

Sal's eyes widen, and her entire body has gone stock still.

You spread out the other petals and leaves. Another 'S'. An 'E'. A 'D'. An 'A'. And an 'L'.

S. E. D.

S. A. L.

“Sires Plant… really can understand us, can't they?” Sal asks, awe evident in her composure and voice.

You nod once. This is just one of Sires Plant's many gifts. And you will spread this news to all with complete and utter seriousness. “They are a Chosen like us, after all.”

It occurs to you that Sires Plant may be cheering you on still, in their own unique way. Along with the realisation that… they are getting too big to carry between Library Incarnations. You may need to plant them somewhere more… permanent. And soon.