Novan had been born into the bloodline of House Zahar, also known as the Tracker or Hunter lineage. Their distinctive traits included enhanced olfactory perception, superior reflexes, and exceptional aptitude for tracking and concealment magic. Their concealment ability proved particularly formidable, permitting not merely invisibility but complete evasion from all sensory detection.
Yet while Zahar ranked among the most powerful houses, it hardly maintained absolute dominance. Even in their conflict with House Arabion, Keorn's affiliation, they secured only marginal advantage rather than decisive victory.
How, then, could Novan—not even pure-blooded but born between a guardian and commoner—possess such remarkable significance?
"Could you elaborate further regarding my bloodline?" he asked the librarian.
"Couldn't your parents provide such information?"
"I lack living parents."
"I see," the spirit responded without additional sentiment.
Novan required no sympathy, so this directness suited him perfectly.
"Perhaps I should examine you? I require your permission to inspect your physical form."
"Granted."
With Novan's consent, the librarian extended his illusory finger into Novan's chest. Though incorporeal, the gesture carried purpose. After several moments of changing expressions, the librarian exclaimed:
"Minor variations exist, but predominantly Tracker, Hunter. House Zahar's characteristic, correct? The desert-dwellers?"
"Yes."
Novan freely confirmed this truth, recognizing the spirit possessed no means to disseminate this information.
The librarian continued examining, then suddenly expressed surprise. "Another exists! Your bloodlines have combined!"
"Combined?"
"Your abilities result from two bloodlines merging. You encountered this concept in my recommended reading, surely?"
Novan recalled the text about magical houses he'd studied earlier. It had indeed addressed bloodline combinations.
Noble magical attributes typically transferred to offspring either completely or in diluted form. Rarely, however, they strengthened when parents from different bloodlines produced children whose abilities flowered into more diverse and powerful manifestations.
For instance, water-control and ice-control bloodlines might generate offspring capable of manipulating both elements. Similarly, wound-healing and disease-curing bloodlines might create descendants who could address both conditions.
Houses that became founding lineages after developing powerful abilities through such combinations were designated great houses.
"What constitutes my second bloodline?"
"That remains undetermined. It remains dormant. Perhaps increasing your power will unlock it."
The librarian explained that such "locked bloodlines" typically characterized first-generation bearers of newly combined hereditary traits.
This confirmed that half of Novan's power originated from his maternal lineage.
'Mother...'
In Novan's recollections, his mother always displayed gentleness and refinement despite constant exhaustion. Understandably so—she shouldered shepherding responsibilities without a partner, a profession challenging even for robust men, while raising a young child.
No reasonable assessment suggested she possessed magical abilities.
Yet examining deeper, she had demonstrated unusually sophisticated manners and education for a commoner. The ability to read stories fluently remained restricted to privileged classes, even in cities like Orem.
Perhaps she descended from nobility whose bloodline had diluted until magical capabilities had vanished.
After contemplating these possibilities, Novan rubbed his face with both hands. "I understand broadly. Thank you."
One of Novan's journey objectives involved tracing his parentage—discovering why his supposedly "good" father never lived with them, his identity and whereabouts, and why his mother fled with him to the world's western edge.
This revelation strengthened his resolve. Answers likely awaited in the Enril Desert, House Zahar's domain, representing half his hereditary essence.
Following his discovery of the spirit's true nature, Novan shifted from solitary reading to interactive learning, requesting explanations and insights from the librarian.
The spirit retained knowledge from volumes plundered and lost over millennia. The "natural principles" he taught directly—information entirely absent from surviving texts—represented invaluable treasures.
"Such numerous microscopic entities exist?"
"Indeed. Levitate water and shape it thus to view directly."
When Novan formed an oddly configured water droplet before his eyes as instructed, objects appeared magnified several-fold.
Further explanation revealed that various illnesses originated from these microorganisms, and that organic decay resulted from bacterial consumption.
Additional revelations followed: light refraction principles, heat generation through friction, biological injury and recovery mechanisms—many correlating with magical fundamentals Keorn had taught.
Previously, Novan merely knew that cloud formations facilitated lightning magic; now he comprehended why.
While certain fields exceeded even the librarian's complete understanding, this limited knowledge profoundly transformed Novan's worldview.
Moreover, theoretical understanding translated to practical application.
"I'll test decay principles first."
When Novan touched an apple with his fingertip, rapid decomposition followed—as though centuries passed in moments.
"Your assessment?"
"Remarkable..."
While such effects weren't previously impossible, they had demanded excessive magical energy and yielded inconsistent results. Now, comprehending decay principles, Novan achieved superior outcomes with minimal power expenditure.
His magical capability improved through perceptual transformation, as though suddenly mastering these applications.
Novan chuckled at a realization. "Lord Lug erred in his assessment."
"Regarding what?"
"His claim that no extraordinary ancient magic or power-enhancement secrets existed within this library."
While the librarian possessed no specific enhancement rituals, these fundamental principles represented even greater secrets.
Novan suspected powerful houses might monopolize such knowledge, recognizing their competitive advantage would diminish if widely disseminated.
The librarian concurred. "I've wondered why knowledge has diminished over time. Your theory provides explanation."
These natural principles, the spirit explained, originated from texts authored directly by the Prea deities during the imperial era. Following the empire's collapse, such volumes became exceedingly rare.
"You mentioned this library's imperial-era construction. Was your creator divine?"
"Yes. The Lame Goddess established me. Indeed, most imperial legacies likely emerged from her. Few divinities possessed comparable creative aptitude."
The Lame Goddess—premier blacksmith and architect among the Prea, creator of divine treasures and palaces. Houses specializing in magical artifice claimed descent from her lineage.
"Did you interact directly with her?"
"If you're inquiring about her nature, I possess limited insight."
His creator vanished immediately after establishing the library and imparting the librarian's protective mission—as though preventing even momentary delay.
Seeing Novan's disappointment, the librarian chuckled. "Don't despair, foolish one. Numerous divine legacies populate this land. Perhaps among them exist spirits unlike myself who maintained closer divine relationships."
After ten days of animated conversation and direct instruction from his newfound mentor, Novan bid farewell.
"You're departing?"
"Yes. This place's proprietor has transparently suggested my leave-taking."
Though Novan's continued presence represented minimal expense, Lord Lug clearly resented his rejected prospect lingering constantly.
Novan briefly regretted his unambiguous rejection rather than maintaining polite ambiguity, but dismissed this thought. Such behavior would have violated guest propriety.
"Understood."
The librarian's impassive response revealed no disappointment regarding separation from a conversational partner discovered after millennia of solitude.
Novan realized anew that the spirit's claim of waiting additional thousands of years represented no exaggeration.
"Until our next encounter, then."
"Return if desired, or don't."
"Numerous unread volumes remain."
In truth, little practical reason for returning existed. Novan had acquired essential common knowledge and mastered most advantageous natural principles for magical enhancement.
Nevertheless, he intended eventual return. He wished to share experiences from his worldly travels with this ancient teacher who would wait indefinitely, perhaps longer than memory itself.
After brief formalities with Lord Lug, Novan promptly departed Orem.
His attire differed from both his initial rags and his guest garments from House Baltas—a white shirt with sturdy trousers, durable leather footwear, and a hooded cloak. Rather than aristocratic finery, these new clothes suggested prosperous traveler status, though his aged sheepskin pack appeared incongruous.
According to library maps, House Zahar's stronghold in the Enril Desert lay approximately one or two months' journey eastward from Orem.
No urgency compelled haste. Any parental traces destined to vanish would have disappeared during the past eighteen years; anything enduring would persist regardless of his arrival timeline.
Novan continued his established pattern: traveling while hunting magically-detected beasts to enhance his power, as before reaching Orem.
He deliberately avoided direct routes and major cities, having experienced the complications of formal noble visitation. Without maps, such meandering would have hopelessly disoriented him.
Unlike previously, he now maintained hygiene during travel. Having experienced cleanliness, he desired its continuation. Moreover, awareness of microorganisms made filth increasingly uncomfortable.
Abundant streams and packed soap permitted reasonable cleanliness, though not matching the standard achieved with servant assistance.
After nine days traversing this manner, his detection magic once again registered beast traces.
Hoof impressions larger than a hand suggested equine transformation.
Approaching cautiously from concealed distance, he encountered an unexpected scene.
A massive red-haired horse—standing one-and-a-half times human height—roared protectively before a large tree. Behind it, an unconscious person leaned against the trunk, blood flowing from a head wound.
Initial impressions suggested a beast attack, but closer observation revealed the creature actually protecting the injured individual. A saddle on its back indicated domestication.
Nearby, a man and woman in unfamiliar attire conversed with ominous intent.
"This devil-beast—how can a mere pet possess such strength?"
"Create an opening somehow."
"Easier proposed than accomplished!"
They appeared determined to penetrate the horse's defense and eliminate the wounded individual.
Drawing nearer, Novan realized with shock they weren't human.
Purple-black skin, silver hair, vertically split ears...
Dark elves—beings he had encountered only in his mother's tales and books until this moment.