Mal made his way to the library.
After the cafeteria incident, the people of the Tower were told to go to the library, which was the most intact place in the building.
Mal had quickly slipped away, out of the crowds, and into the hall before anyone could notice. He had seen the library before when he was taken on a tour of the Tower before he transferred. The high ceilings were simply elegant, and the shelves held too much knowledge to be stored in one brain.
That didn't mean Mal wouldn't try.
So, yes, he had seen the library.
He had not seen what was happening when he walked in the doors.
A tall, young woman dressed in a white shirt tucked loosely into high-waisted baggy black cargo pants, secured tightly by a belt, barefoot, stood in front of him. She had loose waves of golden-brown hair that didn't quite brush her shoulders.
Red, cyan, and black whispy tendrils floated around her open palms, curling around her wrists and ankles. Multiple guards and other armed personnel stood in front of her, brandishing dangerous weapons.
The woman turned her head a fraction, and Mal caught a glimpse of her face.
She had tanned, dark olive skin, and what looked like a round-shaped face. Her eyes were a bright cyan, glowing brightly, the pupils stars instead of circles.
"Jakob!" One of the people in front of her yelled, and one of them charged forward, armed with a huge broadsword.
The woman whipped her head back around, and easily slid out of reach, and Mal watched in horrified fascination as the blade spun impossibly quick, aimed to slice her in half.
The tendrils around her wrists converged in the center of her palm, and the blade stopped with a ringing sound, as though it hit stone. The woman tightened her grip around the sword, and a quick twist of her wrist, it shattered like glass.
Everything was frozen in time.
Mal heard the other people of the Tower coming in, shuffling in without a glance up. Halfway, they all stopped moving and looked up at the strange, glowing woman.
She turned to the people still holding weapons at her.
Stalking forward, she stood in front of a man who was so tall he towered over even her.
Her voice was deep and gravelly, rough from what sounded like misuse. "You have kept me trapped here for far too long, selfish, greedy mortals."
Mortals? What was she talking about?
The man swallowed hard but threw on a look of confidence. "Not strong enough to escape? How far you've fallen."
The woman hissed. "You will regret this. Atticus will come for me. A fallen god isn't a dead one."
Fallen god? Atticus coming for her?
There were nine sibling gods that ruled over the galaxy, maintaining the balance. The leader of the gods was the first one to emerge, the big brother to them all, and the undisputed leader: Atticus, the god of the elements. The second one to emerge was Kindre, the goddess of life. The third was Poi, the goddess of death. Then Yimee, the god of the harvest, responsible for all food in the world, and Minta, the god of wisdom. After they were Lioea, goddess of the animals, Jadiry, goddess of the humans, who somehow got their own category outside of animals, and the eighth was Tui, the god of emotions. Each god that emerged was weaker than the last, though each of them was still strong enough to raize the Earth. The break in that cycle was an anomaly, one no one has been able to figure out. The ninth and final goddess was one of the strongest, despite being the youngest. Adela, goddess of chaos, had strength that rivaled Atticus himself.
"Atticus will not find you. No one has for the last eight hundred and ninety-nine years. How funny to think that next week on this very day, you will have been held for nine hundred years. Isn't that a coincidence?" The man laughed.
Mal didn't want to understand. It was in all of the lessons, though: the ninth goddess had gone missing eight hundred and ninety-nine years ago. But there was absolutely no way she could have been held in the Crescent Tower. Hundreds of generations had been keeping her locked away. It was impossible.
"The manacles weaken as I grow stronger. They will not hold me for much longer." The woman said.
"But the curse will." The man countered.
The woman laughed. "A curse that is already fading. Nine hundred years is a long time for one spell. No matter who cursed me."
"Do you even possess the memories as to who cursed you, fallen one?" He sneered.
"The very god who this kingdom is based upon. Minta was far too jealous, basking in his wisdom as if it were a private pool. He would like to believe he knew the secret to life, just as he would like to believe the moon is his symbol. A wise god would know how foolish he is being." The woman said coolly.
"You dare insult the basis of this kingdom?" The man yelled.
The woman was unfazed. "I dare insult the god who has cursed me out of his own spite. If his kingdom is a part of that, then I hope the worst to befall all of you."
"Enough talk! Capture her!" The man bellowed.
The guards around him launched into motion, throwing themselves toward the woman. She turned on one heel, easily sliding into a roll and coming out unfazed. Mal's eyes were trapped by a cage of glowing cyan that seemed to peer deep into his soul.
She broke the trance by whipping away her gaze, turning back around to face the men charging her. She waited until the last moment, then threw herself out of the way of their swords.
Which left them heading straight for Mal.
All of Mal's training instincts acted for him, awakening and guiding his body into fluid motion. He dropped to the floor, balanced, and swept out a leg, throwing the guards onto the floor. Pushing back up again, Mal stomped a wrist and snatched the sword.
His breathing was controlled, but not by much.
The woman turned to grin at him from across the room, and Mal paled as he took note of the sharp canines in her mouth. Before he could observe any further, she turned back around and continued fighting with her whispy tendrils of color.
"Are you gonna fight, or just stand there?" The woman laughed, blocking another attack and landing a punch that sent the guard reeling.
Mal couldn't move.
"Who are you?" He managed to ask, the sword loose in his grip.
Mal watched in horror as one of the guard's swords disappeared into her back and reappeared in front of her stomach.
The woman laughed, blood running down from the corners of her mouth. She turned to the tall man.
"That was the most fun I've had in eight hundred and ninety-nine years." She said.
He looked vaguely disgusted as the men grabbed the woman by her hands, and three of them struggled to heave giant manacles onto her wrists. Each solid black iron manacle looked to weigh more than a few hundred pounds, considering it took three guards to lift them onto her wrists, then her ankles.
The oddest part was the fact she moved like they were a minor nuisance. She turned to the amassed crowd and smiled, even lifting a hand for a small wave.
Mal watched as they led her out of the library, sword still impaled in her body. The front of her shirt was soaked with blood.
The tall man turned to Mal.
"You're a curious one, aren't you?"