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CHAPTER 5<br />
Another Lunae Libri<br />
Darkness, it turns out, is about as dark as usual no matter what world you’re in. The invisible steps beneath the trapdoor—the same ones I’d<br />
stumbled and climbed and half-fallen my way down so many times before—were every bit as invisible as they’d ever been.<br />
And the Lunae Libri?<br />
Nothing had changed about the moss-covered, rocky passageways that led us there. The long rows of ancient books, scrolls, and parchments<br />
were hauntingly familiar. Torches still threw unsteady flickering shadows across the stacks.<br />
The Caster Library looked the same as always, even though now I was far, far away from every living Caster.<br />
Especially the one I loved most.<br />
I grabbed a torch from the wall, waving it in front of me. “It’s all so real.”<br />
My mom nodded. “It’s exactly as I remember it.” She touched my shoulder. “A good memory. I loved this place.”<br />
“Me too.” This was the only place that had offered me any hope when Lena and I faced the hopeless situation of her Sixteenth Moon. I looked<br />
back at my mom, half-hidden in the shadows.<br />
“You never told me, Mom. I didn’t know anything about you being a Keeper. I didn’t know anything about this whole side of your life.”<br />
“I know. And I’m so sorry. But you’re here now, and I can show you everything.” She took my hand. “Finally.”<br />
We made our way into the darkness of the stacks, with only the torch between us. “Now, I’m no reference librarian, but I know my way around<br />
these stacks. On to the scrolls.” She looked at me sideways. “I hope you never touched any of these. Not without gloves.”<br />
“Yeah. I got that down, the first time I burned all my skin off.” I grinned. It was strange to be here with my mom, but now that I was, I could tell the<br />
Lunae Libri had been every bit hers, as much as it was Marian’s.<br />
She grinned back. “I guess that’s not a problem anymore.”<br />
I shrugged. “Guess not.”<br />
She pointed to the nearest shelf, her eyes bright. It was good to see my mom back in her natural habitat.<br />
She reached for a scroll. “C, as in crossing.”<br />
After what seemed like hours, we had made zero headway.<br />
I groaned. “Can’t you just tell me how to do this? Why do I have to look it up for myself?” We were surrounded by piles of scrolls, stacked all<br />
around us on the stone table at the very center of the Lunae Libri.<br />
Even my mom seemed frustrated. “I already told you. I just imagine where I want to go, and I’m there. If that doesn’t work for you, then I don’t know<br />
how to help you. Your soul isn’t the same as mine, especially not since it was fractured. You need help, and that’s what books are for.”<br />
“I’m pretty sure this isn’t what books are for—visitations from the dead.” I glared at her. “At least, that’s not what Mrs. English would say.”<br />
“You never know. Books are around for lots of reasons. As is Mrs. English.” She yanked another stack of scrolls into her lap. “Here. What about<br />
this one?” She pulled open a dusty scroll, smoothing it with her hands. “It’s not a Cast. It’s more like a meditation. To help your mind focus, as if you<br />
were a monk.”<br />
“I’m not a monk. And I’m not any good at meditating.”<br />
“Clearly. But it wouldn’t hurt you to try. Come on, focus. Listen.”<br />
She leaned over the parchment scroll, reading aloud. I read along over her shoulder.<br />
“In death, lie.<br />
In living, cry.<br />
Carry me home<br />
to remember<br />
to be remembered.”<br />
The words hovered in the air, like a strange silvery bubble. I reached out to touch them, but they faded out of sight as quickly as they had<br />
appeared.<br />
I looked at my mom. “Did you see that?”<br />
My mom nodded. “Casts are different in this world.”<br />
“Why isn’t it working?”<br />
“Try it in the original Latin. Here. Read it for yourself.” She held the paper closer to the torch, and I leaned toward the light.<br />
My voice shook as I said the words.<br />
“Mortuus, iace.<br />
Vivus, fle.<br />
Ducite me domum<br />
ut meminissem<br />
ut in memoria tenear.”<br />
I closed my eyes, but all I could think about was how far I was from Lena. How her curling black hair twisted in the Caster breeze. How the green<br />
and the gold flecks lit her eyes, as bright and dark as she was.<br />
How I’d probably never see her again.