Vial of antivenom in your left hand courtesy of Pascale and (surprisingly) Gretch; right arm in a sling courtesy of Adamo, you begin your trek into the mists. Urick is dying, their survival dependent on how quickly you can find them. And as for Aster… they need to know the truth. Even if they reject it.

The last time you entered the fog surrounding the Hub Corridor, you’d found yourself turned around and walking back towards your starting point within seconds. This time though, something feels different. The fog seems more… confused? It twists and curls chaotically, pushing at your clothing momentarily before pulling back suddenly, as though unsure what to make of you. You hope this means you can make some progress.

You’re not sure for how long you walk in the light grey fog, sending eddies dancing with every step you take. Time and distance become meaningless in this identical enveloping blanket of grey. All you are aware of is the numbing cold that presses against your skin and the hoarseness of your voice as it calls out to Aster. There is no response.

Occasionally, you spot a splash of colour in this space: little circular gaps in the fog that reveal people moving beyond. For a moment you wonder if these are mirages, for most only exist for a split second before the circles collapse and the fog closes in again, but no, you realise these are Portals, similar to the ones taking you between Incarnations. If the Library is breaking down, maybe so are the barriers between its various sections?

All the while, you try to convey the will you have. If the Library is conscious, if it can sense your intentions, you try to show them plainly. Let me save Urick, you beg. Let me tell Aster the truth.

Suddenly, a sound like a great rip shudders through the air, and before your eyes you see the mists part around a circular hole, about the size of your head. You gasp, then rush forward. Through it, you can see a similarly shrouded place, but whose fog is a darker grey, and whose vortices seem to swirl faster and more irregularly, in a sort of manic confusion. There, sitting on the other side of the portal, is Aster the Intern, and sprawled on their lap, tiny body rising and falling shallowly and infrequently, is Urick the very ordinary-looking hedgehog. Across the tiny hedgehog’s flanks, you can see ugly green veins spidering outwards, and their quills look patchy and uneven, as if several had fallen out already.

“Aster!” you call.

“Wick!” cries Aster, amazement and relief written openly across their face. “How did you even get here? I didn’t think it was possible.”

You shrug in a way that maximises the apparent lack of effort in it. “What can I say? Guess I’m just good at doing the impossible.” Aster seems too relieved to even chide your arrogance. “Oh, Pascale, Gretch and Adamo made this. For Urick.” You procure the vial of antivenom, reaching through the window to hand it to Aster. Your hand comes against a moment of resistance, rebelling against your living, foreign flesh. For an instant you worry the portal won’t let the capsule through. But after a little pushback, your hand goes through, and The Intern takes the vial greedily.

“Thank you. Thank you all, I can’t…” Aster cuts themselves off as they busy themselves with Urick, reluctantly rousing the furry creature from its slumber. Urick weakly tries to scramble away, but their movements are sluggish and pitiful, and Aster easily holds them in place while they tip the contents of the vial gently and slowly into Urick’s mouth. The hedgehog tries to resist, turning their head away from the tube, and Aster is forced to grip their mouth, prying it open and keeping it glued to the antidote. You watch as the hedgehog is force-fed the antivenom, and when it is over, there are tears in Aster’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Urick… I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s for their own good,” you offer. “If they were normal, they’d want you to cure them.”

“I know.” Aster wipes their eyes. “I know.”

The two of you sit in silence for a while, watching Urick’s breath deepen and stabilise, and you can swear the green veins become less pronounced after a while. Eventually, you know you need to tell Aster what you know, before this portal fails and you lose them.

“Aster, there’s something you should know.”

The Intern looks up from Urick, who has fallen asleep again, with a tired smile. “Oh yes, this major secret you seem to know about me. You might as well just come out with it. It’s been a long day, what’s one more surprise?”

You don’t say anything, knowing that Aster is trying to make light of the situation, but also knowing that this truth might change everything for them. Aster seems to realise the severity of your gaze, and they sit up straighter, their smile dropping.

“Wick?”

You take a deep breath. “I spoke to the Gargoyles. I did a favour for them, and they offered me one honest answer in return. I have no way to confirm if what they said was true or not, so you can take this however you want, but this is what they said to me: Before you came to the Library, you were a Guest.”

“I was a what?” chokes Aster, but you shake your head, not done yet.

“That’s not all. Aster, the Duo-lings said you were a Guardian.”

Aster stares at you for a long time, mouth frozen slightly agape. Then they splutter, “But… But I’m not… how… I told you, I’m an Employee! I’ve never been… Whatever misunderstandings your group of Chosen has taken to heart, I was never… But the Gargoyles… I would remember…”

All you can do is shrug helplessly. You get the sense Aster doesn’t not believe you, more that they just can’t understand how what you said could be true. “That’s just what they said to me. It could be another prank of theirs.”

Aster clutches their head, holding it tightly, as though they were trying to squeeze the memories out of it. “But there are already seven Guardians!” they cry. “Urick, the Serpent, the Original Book, Waffle, the Gargoyles and the Monitors.”

You pause. You count in your head. “Aster… you just named six.”

Aster stares at you. They count again with their hands. Six fingers stand accusingly. “No… Shadow and Shush, they must…”

“…They count as one, don't they? Same as the Gargoyles.” And by the pair of double chairs in the Heart, you know it’s true.

Aster looks at you, their face sheathed in disbelief. But then that face blanches. Their breathing turns heavy. Every breath becomes a deep and laboured intake. They lean over, placing one hand on the floor to support themselves. The other clutches at their head, their knuckles turning white as they squeeze.

“Aster?” You lean forward in worry. They don’t react to you.

A low, guttural keen begins to emanate from Aster. It starts deep within their chest, more of a vibration than anything else, but then it rises in pitch, growing louder and louder, more visceral and pained with every second, rising to an ear deafening screech of confusion and hurt. The portal begins to wobble and warp, ringing in resonance with Aster’s howl.

“Aster!” you shout, throwing a hand through the hole and clutching their shoulder. This time the invisible barrier gives way easily to your physical intrusion, as if it has lost the will to thwart your desperate efforts. The Intern looks up at you, their eyes rabid.

“Why don’t I remember?!” they scream, and their scream shatters the edges of the Portal, which come shooting closed, snapping towards your arm. Only your immense dexterity saves your left arm from a fate worse than your right, and you fall backwards heavily, your ears still ringing with Aster’s pain.

You stand and feel for the Portal again. You call out to the Library for another one. You yell and run further through the mists, but no matter where you go, no matter how hard you try, you don’t find another portal to Aster and Urick.

They’re gone.