The afternoon at Cherwood Public Library dragged on in its usual quiet way. Jake handled the bookkeeping first—updating the ledgers with returns and late fees, then sorting the new crates of books that arrived from the publishers.
When that was done, he moved around reshelving: climbing the rolling ladder for the high shelves, dusting old spines, making sure the Church-donated history and science volumes were in order.
A few patrons asked simple questions—where's the latest almanac? Which shelf has colony maps?—and he answered them softly, keeping things low-key. The work was calm and mindless, giving his brain space to wander.
Around four, the place emptied out a bit. Jake grabbed a small stack of returned novels and carried them to one of the corner reading tables, tucked behind tall shelves where no one really bothered him.
He sat, pulled his plain leather diary from his coat pocket, and flipped to a fresh page.
He stared at it for a second, then started writing.
'To become a Beyonder or not?'
He jotted down the downsides quick: going mad, losing control, getting hunted by bigger fish, corruption creeping in.
The upsides were shorter but hit harder: actual power, a real shot at surviving the mess coming in the next few years, the chance to not be helpless anymore.
He tapped the pen on his lip, then wrote one word in big letters.
'Hell yeah!'
He'd read 'Lord of the Mysteries' front to back, even dipped in 'Circle of Inevitability'.
He knew things were only going to get crazier—cults, madness outbreaks, wars on the horizon.
Staying mundane wasn't an option in this world.
He'd come from a boring, normal life; no way was he passing up the chance to get real powers.
Next up: 'Which pathway?'
He thought through the ones he remembered.
Combat stuff was a no. Hunter looked tempting for a minute—strong, adaptable—but it was too destructive and basically a Demoness magnet.
He wanted to stay low-key, not draw attention.
Savant, Reader, Mystery Pryer, Spectator all crossed his mind. Savant was cool for knowledge and gadgets, Reader for analysis and foresight, Mystery Pryer was good but there was the danger of evil sage, Spectator too mind-gamey.
Then his thoughts landed on the last two.
Seer and Apprentice.
The Fool pathway and the Door pathway
There was one thing the kept drawing him over, the more he turned it over, the more it clicked.
Seer was weird, flexible, perfect for staying under the radar: Clown for tricks and dodges, Magician for illusions, Faceless for changing who you are, Marionettist at Sequence 5 letting you puppet other Beyonders and borrow their powers indirectly. Subtle. Deceptive. Exactly what he needed.
Seer pathway. Done.
He wrote it down with a small nod.
Then the problem hit him.
'How do I even get the formulas?'
He remembered the flashy powers and big moments from the books, but actual potion recipes? Ingredients? Nada. He cursed himself in his head for not paying better attention.
One way forward: Bravehearts Bar. Kaspar Kalinin. Isengard Stanton.
He needed to join Stanton's gathering—not to hunt for formulas, but to rent or buy an artifact first.
Something that boosted memory recall.
If he could sharpen his recall of the novels, maybe the details would come back clearer. It was a start.
He fished out his silver pocket watch. 6:03. Shift over.
Jake closed the diary, tucked it away, grabbed his coat, and headed out into the cooling evening.
The walk back to Crimson Lane took twenty minutes—quiet streets, gas lamps flickering on one by one.
When he reached the apartment building, he climbed the stairs to the third floor. Halfway down the hallway he stopped short.
Someone stood in front of his door.
A girl, around twenty, almost his height. She wore a simple light-green everyday dress, nothing fancy.
Long brownish-black hair hung loose past her shoulders. Fair skin, soft brown eyes, gentle features.
She wasn't the type to turn heads everywhere she went—not stunning or idol-pretty—but if you actually looked, you realized she was quietly good-looking in a natural, easy way.
She turned at the sound of his footsteps.
"Jacey," she said gently, her voice warm and fond. She stepped closer. "It's been a whole week since I saw you. Have you been hiding from me again?"
Jake felt heat climb up his neck. His heart kicked up faster, thudding hard against his ribs. Jace had always had a quiet crush on her—nothing dramatic, just that steady, aching pull whenever she was around—and now it was hitting him full force, mixed with his own nerves.
He opened his mouth, but the words stuck for a second.