Looking back, I think I can see why Abasi felt so at home in the library. It shared the same characteristics of his home in the Duat. There was security in the silence. It felt like a sanctuary.

Ama took a while to exit the portal, so for a few minutes the Rift swirled as Abasi and I waited for her to come out. I kept taking a breath to start a conversation, but my questions evaporated on my tongue. My excuse at the time was that Abasi appeared to be preoccupied with observing the titles of the books around us, but in truth, I was self-conscious about saying something stupid. I shouldn't have been worried; not only I had already done so but he didn't care.

But I was indeed worried, and it got awkward very quickly.

"Why an assassin, by the way?" I finally asked when the silence got too uncomfortable for me. "Ama, I can understand, for her... enjoyment of the pain of others. But you? How does it appeal to you?"

"I'm a survivor," he replied, turning to face me. "I need the money. I take no enjoyment from it in the slightest, trust me. But when it comes to dying, I'd rather it be them than me. And... "

I opened my mouth to say that plenty of survivors chose options other than assassination－

" ... All I was ever good at was harming others."

－and I closed it again. My teeth snagged my lip, and a sigh made a hissing noise between my teeth. I was frustrated with myself for being so engrossed in my jealousy that I didn't stop to actually think about what sort of price they had to pay to get this far. It occurs to me now that, in all that time, I had thought of them solely as assassins and not as people.

"I... I see," was the only answer I could think of before falling silent.

He gave me a nod. "I'm glad you understand."

I paused before hesitantly saying, "There are much worse things... than mere killing."

I wonder why I said that. I didn't know anything about assassinating, nor did I have any idea how he would have felt about it. I think I might have been trying to comfort him, but what can anyone say to make killing right? 'Well, at least it's only death.' 'It's just murder, don't worry about it.' 'There are much worse things than killing.'

"Indeed there are," Abasi acknowledged my comment without pause, "and I refrain from doing so."

"But I didn't," I said suddenly. My tone was almost accusatory, and my voice had jumped an octave.

It comes to my attention that I never went in depth as to my information-gathering methods. I was vague when it came up. I might as well say it now. It has been years since the last time I recorded my memories, and it is unhealthy to leave a shame unconfessed. It rots the soul.

I torture people. I couldn't say it then, but I didn't have to. Abasi was largely indifferent.

He just shrugged. "Well, I don't care about your origin. You're honorable now, so I say you're good."

Stunned, I could only nod in a way I hoped appeared modest. My face... might have warmed a little bit.

"The same goes here."

"Good to hear," he said with a yawn. "I don't know about you, but I'm hitting the hay. It's been a long day for me."

"I, uh... I need to go anyway." I started to leave before I realized something and fumbled in my cloak pockets. Finally, I found the Thurisaz rune and offered it to Abasi. "Can you give this to Eldrin for me? I forgot that I had it."

He took it with one of his curt nods. "Sure thing."

I stood there for a few seconds before remembering that I was supposed to leave.

"Oh," I blurted out. Then I turned and started to walk away stiffly, like a windup toy.

Imagine my surprise when I practically walked into Ama.

She was leaning against a bookshelf, giving me a gravely solemn look that was uncharacteristic of her. She had walked so silently that I hadn't even noticed her exit the Rift, which was shrinking into oblivion.

"I was pretty much born into killing," she casually said to me. "Sirens are taught to fight and kill, and it was pretty much the only thing I was good at."

I weighed my options and decided that I might not have the chance to ask if I didn't do it now. Maybe I was reluctant to leave this frightening, dangerous, astonishing and incredible world. Maybe I just didn't want to go back to my own life just yet.

"Why didn't you stay in the ocean if you were good at what you did? Why come here?"

Ama scoffed, looking off to the side. There was a long stretch of silence between them, a strained kind of silence before she hesitantly answered without meeting my eyes.

"I wanted to kill for a cause, to kill those who deserved it rather than innocent ones who broke an unfair law. They didn't like it, and... uh... I wasn't very happy there, I guess."

I shoved my hands into my pockets to join the cold syringes I hadn't yet put back in their cases. Now that I think of it, it was probably dangerous to have random needles stuffed into my cloak.

"Does it ever get better? The killing, I mean," I blurted out and then paused, certain that I was saying something wrong. "That is, if you kill people all the time, how do you stay this way? How do you remain a person? Uh..."

"I mean," Ama replied with a slightly perplexed look on her face. "I don't know if I was even a 'person' before I came here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Aren't you supposed to... get sick at the sight of a dead body?" she asked me, beginning to pace, "I... I had the thrill of killing someone when I was young... before I found out those people we had to kill were just a bunch of innocent sailors... And I still find that thrill..." She paused and shook her head. "Sorry. I was just rambling... "

"No, I don't mind," I respond quickly. "It was just something I wanted to know." I walked over to the library door and curled my hand around the doorknob, but paused and looked back. Why was I so eager to draw things out? "It's just... You're always so... happy."

Ama looked at me with a slight chuckle, sighing as she seemed to melt back into the usual, chipper Ama I had met and had the pleasure of knowing.

"It's all pretty easy to forget during the day. Well...for me, at least. Or," she giggled a bit at her own thoughts before even saying them, "Maybe it's just the good ol' period making me sappy today."

"Oh." I paused. "I don't know how to respond to that." Do normal teenage girls talk about this? Is it only a thing between a pair of teenage girls? All I knew was that I certainly couldn't talk to Rhys about it. "Was that meant to be humorous? ... Don't answer that. Please. I'm rubbish with jokes as it is." Finally, I open the door. I once again looked back, this time with a heavy, surrendering sigh. "I'm not going to find this place again, am I?"

"I guess not." She said with a small shrug, "Do you want to find it again?"

I shuffled my feet. "Yes," I blurt out. "There's a world of normal people out there, and I don't belong in it. I never get to talk to people, and I'm terrible at it. Maybe some criminals can seamlessly integrate into society, but I'm not one of them. I'm too far gone. But here, no one cares about any of that!" My voice rose without my meaning it to, and I lowered it back to its usual semi-inaudible tone. "You've all treated me like an equal from the start. I guess that was what made all the difference."

Ama laughed. Not at me, but at my sudden, accidental spike in tone. Her jittery hands fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.

"Well, we're all a bit out of our minds here, so of course we would treat you as an equal." Her hands went still. "I guess it's difficult to leave when you want to find it again."

"It really is," I reply helplessly "I have no idea how long I've been standing here."

"You can leave if you want." She chuckled lightly. "Honestly, there's nothing and no one to stop you except, well, if the door's jammed or something."

I gave her a tiny smile and a small nod before turning away and walking out. I didn't say goodbye. In fact, I still haven't. I always looked back, though, even after I'd left the forest of Bella's Deathbed altogether. Somehow, my feet always wound up turning in that direction.

Maybe it was the magic that pulled at me.

Maybe it was the appeal of a life where I wouldn't have to depend on Rhys.

Maybe it was the knowledge that I was welcome there.

And maybe－just maybe－a part of me knew I would come back.