#except vianan bc Angst hehe

[juliandev0rak]

Burn

Curiosity killed the cat...

Beatrice finds a book hidden inside a secret library, she hopes to find answers about the ritual that brought her back to life, but she finds something very different instead.

Words: ~3400

Warnings: descriptions of an injury and blood, very brief mentions of derealization/ depersonalization

Notes: a fic from Beatrice’s canon? Who would’ve thought! 

Beatrice’s hand glides over the bookcase, feeling for the book that sticks out a bit more than it should. When she finds it she pulls and steps back as the bookcase slides away to reveal the room behind it. She’d only recently discovered this hidden room, but as Portia had told her so many months ago, the palace is full of secrets. 

She conjures an orb of light in her hand before she enters the dark, taking a breath to settle her nerves. There’s nobody in the room, she knows, but she can’t relax until she lights a few candles. She reaches the table in the center of the room and does just that, illuminating the space around the table at least. The shadows seem to cling to the dark, windowless chamber and if she wasn’t so intent on finding answers she’d never have the courage to stay in a place like this.

This time she’s decided to bring her familiar Bramble along, the small brown rabbit always brings her a much needed sense of calm. She sets her bag down on the table and Bramble pokes her head out of the bag, looking around the room curiously. Beatrice and Bramble can’t talk, exactly, but they communicate well enough.

Bramble is worried, and Beatrice should probably take that as a warning but she’s come too far to turn back now. She scratches Bramble behind the ears and says, “It’s fine, the books in here are just extra old and powerful.” 

Aside from Bramble’s clear disapproval, Beatrice knows that Asra would be upset if he knew she was here, in a place he had once spent so much time. When she’d heard rumors of a secret library she’d hoped they might be true and that she’d be able to find what she’s been looking for. Since she first learned that Asra had brought her back from the dead she’s been desperate to know how, exactly, it had happened. 

Asra and Beatrice have been close for as long as she can remember, which admittedly isn’t very long, but her recent curiosity seems to have driven a wedge between them. He won’t tell her anything beyond what she already knows, and he doesn’t seem to understand why she needs to know how the ritual worked, how she works. As a magician, Beatrice knows that there are some things that simply don’t have an explanation, but that doesn’t mean she won’t try to find one.

Asra doesn’t know how much this has bothered her. He can’t understand the itch in the back of her head that tells her that maybe she isn’t real, that maybe her body isn’t her own. She needs to know how it’s possible for her to have been reduced to ash yet returned to life, to a new body.

Julian had mentioned a hidden library that Asra used to disappear to, and it had only taken her a few nights of searching to find the entrance. Beatrice knows there's a reason why Asra doesn’t want her here, it could be dangerous, but to her the knowledge is simply worth the risk. 

She makes her way to the corner of the room where the bookshelves are stacked so closely to each other that she’s pressed in on all sides. Her magical light does little to illuminate much but a few feet in front of her face, so it’s slow going as she reads the spines of the books. Some of them are in languages she doesn't recognize, and some of them have names that scare her to read. 

She’s been through most of the shelves here over the last few days, except for for the last shelf in the darkest, coldest part of the room. She’s felt some sort of energy emanating from that corner of the room, not malicious exactly, but not benign either. Though part of her dreads discovering the source of the energy, she’s also been curious. As she makes her way through the stacks she hears a squeak echo in the empty room, a warning from Bramble.

“I’m ok, Bramble!” Beatrice calls, but she can sense the rabbit is not appeased. Bramble has always been more attuned to energy than she is, always warning her when something dangerous is nearby, or reminding her to rest when her own magical stores are too depleted. She’d brought her familiar along for moral support, but now it seems she’s getting a lecture from a rabbit.

“I’ll be back in a minute, I promise,” Beatrice sighs, raising her hand higher so she can see the top of the shelves. In the furthest corner of the shelf sits a book bound in dark blue, the words on the spine so worn she can’t read them anymore. She knows immediately that it's the book she’s looking for, and she reaches for it. The leather cover is freezing cold to the touch, and she feels an immediate shiver run up her spine when her hand makes contact. The front cover is easier to read and she finds the book is titled “Rituals Moste Arcane”.

Bramble’s ears perk up when Beatrice emerges into the light a minute later, and she hops to the edge of the table to greet her. “See, I’m fine silly.” Beatrice smiles, setting the book down so she can pet her. Beatrice sits at the one rickety chair in the room and sets to work, pulling out a notebook and her charmed quill that never runs out of ink. Bramble hops into her lap and settles into her skirt, seemingly less worried now that Beatrice is back in sight.

When she goes to open the book she finds the cover won't open, as if something is holding it closed. She tries a few diagnostic spells to see if she can trace the source of the magic. It’s like the book is bound in an invisible chain, a lock with no key. Frustrated, she tries a few simple counter curses next in an attempt to unravel the tendrils of magic. But it’s no use, the magic won’t budge and the book won’t open.

She has no idea how much time has passed since she entered the secret library, with no access to windows, and Bramble is fast asleep on her lap by now. Beatrice sighs and decides it’s probably past time to be heading home, Julian will be looking for her, or Asra, or Portia. Her house is never empty these days and although she’s grateful for the company, sometimes she finds herself missing quiet evenings alone with a book. 

“Come along, my dear,” Beatrice says as she gently lifts Bramble off of her lap and into her bag, “Time to go home.” Bramble blinks at her sleepily and curls back up in the bag, content to sleep through the journey. 

Beatrice spends the next few nights toiling over the book whenever she has a chance, trying everything she can think of to unlock it. She finds that certain spells seem to loosen the ties that bind the book, and she repeats those in different patterns, hoping something will click. Bramble always sits nearby when she works on the book and her nervousness seems to have returned, despite Beatrice’s best efforts to ignore it. The book stays the same freezing temperature, and Julian often remarks how cold her hands are these days. 

One evening she finally has a breakthrough. As she turns the heavy book over and over in her hands she suddenly notices a rune carved into the book that she hadn’t seen before, the symbol for water. The rune was most certainly not there before, so one of her spells most have triggered its appearance. After pondering it for a few minutes, she decides to take the rune as in instruction.

She conjures a droplet of water into her hand, pulling the moisture from the air, and drops it gently onto the corner of the book. Instantly she feels the magic in that part of the book release a bit, the tendrils of magic disintegrating. Beatrice smiles triumphantly and gathers the book into her arms, headed towards the bathroom.

If she wants this done fast before Julian comes home, she needs more water than she can conjure. She sits on the edge of the tub and turns the tap on to a trickle. It seems wrong to get water on a book, especially one as fragile and ancient looking as this one, but magic often works that way. Sometimes doing the opposite of what one thinks is the only way to achieve a goal.

Beatrice gently brings the book under the tap and feels the magic starting to release. The water bounces off the cover harmlessly, not sinking into the pages. She watches as the cover of the book slowly changes from dark blue to red under the water, and her excitement grows. Surely a book named “Rituals Moste Arcane” hidden under a spell must have answers for her. 

After a minute of turning the book over under the water she feels the book physically give, its magic pushing back against hers. The freezing cold temperature seems to have faded along with the blue cover, and it's now almost too hot to touch. Beatrice wipes the water off of her hands on her skirt and picks up the book, nearly giddy with excitement at the prospect of finally opening it. She walks back to the living room and sets the book down on her desk, taking a moment to relish her success.

Beatrice reaches out with her left hand, her right busy holding a pen, and tugs at the cover to see if it will lift. Her hand brushes the first page and she recoils, a scream trapped in her throat as the pages of the book burst into flame. The burning tendrils of magic travel up her hand and the book falls from her grasp, continuing to burn until nothing but a heap of ash remains.

She watches in shock as the skin on the palm of her hand blisters and bursts. Distantly she hears Bramble make a noise of alarm, she feels herself slipping from the chair but it hurts too much for her to care. Her hand burns, her arm burns, she burns. Everything goes dark then, and she’s grateful because the light burns too, everything burns.

Beatrice wakes up with her face pressed to the hardwood floor, the candles in the room burned down to stubs. She takes stock of the situation, her brain struggling to find an explanation for why she’s on the floor, why everything smells like blood and singed flesh. She notices the pain then, less severe than before but still radiating up her left arm. 

She feels something fuzzy against her cheek and notices Bramble sitting in front of her face, pawing at her in an attempt to get her up. She can’t muster the strength to talk but she tries to sit up, slowly. She brings her knees to her chest and sits with her back against the wall next to her desk as the world swims before her eyes. Beatrice takes a deep breath in through her nose, out through her mouth, and dares to open her eyes and look at her hand. 

The skin of her palm looks like it’s been flayed off, it’s bloody and raw and she nearly vomits at the sight of it. Beatrice forces herself to think critically, to push past the pain to find a solution. Magic, she knows magic, she knows how to heal. Her brain searches for the right spell to ease the burning pain of her hand and to stop the bleeding. 

Beatrice reaches out with her good hand and feels the mess of her left hand with her magic. She tries to stitch the skin back together from beneath the skin as she’s done so many times before on others who needed healing. It works a little and the soothing pull of her magic distracts her from the pain, but the skin doesn’t knit back together like it should. 

She stops to rest for a minute and realizes she’s shaking quite violently, which might explain her lack of magical precision. She holds back tears as she wonders why on earth she was stupid enough to open a cursed book without any magical protection, and now the book is gone forever so it wasn’t even worth it. But now isn’t the time to blame herself, she knows she needs to try to stop the bleeding before her head gets even foggier. 

Bramble sits at her feet, large eyes worried, and Beatrice wishes she could say something to soothe her, or to soothe herself. She takes a shaky breath and tries again, using her magic to feel beneath the skin for the source of the burn so she can urge the skin to pull back together. This time it works better and the bleeding finally stops, but her hand is still a wreck of peeling skin and blisters.

Beatrice cradles her hand between her raised knees and stares at it, wondering what she could possibly do to fix it. Her magic had eased some of the pain but it still hurts immensely, worse than any pain she’s felt before. She considers getting up to look through her potion stores, maybe there's something in there to ease the pain, eucalyptus or aloe perhaps. Just as she’s decided to crawl her way to the kitchen where she stores her potions, the door to the apartment opens and Julian walks in. 

“Beatrice?” He calls into the dark room, tossing his coat onto the sofa by the door, “Why does it smell like something’s burning? Were you cooking again?” 

“Julian,” she calls, relieved but embarrassed to have gotten into this mess. 

“Beatrice?” Julian says, his voice worried as he makes his way over to the corner where she sits, “What happened?” 

It’s a long night. Julian inspects her hand while she tries to explain what happened, but it's hard to get the words out through the pain. He patches her up as best as he can with the supplies in his medical bag and tucks her into bed. Julian’s calm demeanor, gained through training on a battlefield where he’d seen injuries much worse than this, calms her down as well and by the time he’s done wrapping her hand the panic is all but gone.

When he’s certain her condition is stable enough to leave he goes to get Asra, despite her telling him not to. Julian knows this is a magical injury, and it needs a magical solution that Beatrice is too drained to provide. Beatrice secretly agrees, but she knows Asra will be upset with her for essentially doing this to herself, for ignoring every one of his warnings about messing with unfamiliar magic.

When Julian returns with Asra she stiffens and braces herself for his reaction. Asra’s head appears in the doorway and he sighs when he notices how stricken Beatrice looks, “I’m not going to yell at you if that’s what you’re worried about,” He says, “I’m not mad.”

“You’re not mad, you’re just disappointed?” Beatrice says, bracing herself for the look on his face that will reveal how upset he is. He comes to sit on the edge of her bed and reaches out for her hand. She gingerly places the wrapped hand into his and watches as he deliberates.

“You found the book didn’t you?” Asra asks, “I’m not disappointed in you, Beatrice, I’m mad at myself.” 

“I have to know, Asra, how did you bring me back?” Beatrice winces as his fingers move over her skin to remove the bandages. 

“I’ve told you, it was an exchange. I made a deal with the Arcana, it’s as simple as that,” He sighs, taking in her burned hand. “This looks like it hurts. Did you forget to set any protection charms?” 

“I wasn’t thinking, I was too excited,” Beatrice frowns, feeling embarrassed. 

“You couldn’t have known this would happen, I- this is my fault,” Asra stops unwrapping her hand and looks up at her, looking almost close to tears. It takes her off guard, and she watches him in confusion.

“I’m the one who cast this curse, I wanted to stop anything like what happened with the Devil from happening again. I didn’t want anyone to use that book again. But I didn't think you’d be hurt by it, Beatrice I’m so sorry-” Asra says.

He’s babbling and Beatrice stops him, putting her good hand on his shoulder. “You couldn’t have known I would be the one to find the book. I don’t blame you.”

“You should blame me, I should’ve known you’d go looking for it after all the questions you asked me,” He drops her hand and buries his head in his hands, unable to meet her eyes.

“Wait,” Julian calls from the doorway, his voice calm but his face pained, “Did I hear that correctly? Asra did this to you?” 

“Give us a minute,” Beatrice pleads.

“No I will not give you a minute, Asra did this? His magic did this?” Julian takes a step into the room, his face an equal mix of surprise and anger.

“He didn’t mean to!” Beatrice says, “You can fix it, right Asra?” 

“He’d better be able to fix this,” Julian replies, and Beatrice wishes everyone would just be quiet for a minute because her hand really hurts. 

“Can we please argue later,” She whimpers, watching as a trickle of blood begins oozing out of the wound again. Julian’s anger fades to concern and he nods, taking a step back against the wall. Asra finally looks up from his hands and his face is grim, none of the earlier tears in sight.

“I’ll do what I can,” He says, once again reaching for her hand. The room goes silent as he works to heal her, trying every spell and method he knows. It works better than anything Beatrice had done, but the burn is stubborn. At the end of a tense twenty minutes the injury at least looks neater, but it’s not healed completely as it should have been by now.

“How does it feel? Any better?” Julian asks, inspecting Beatrice’s face for signs of distress. 

“It’s a little better,” She lies, “Thank you Asra.” Both of them stare her down, not at all convinced by her words. 

“I’ll come back tomorrow. You should rest,” Asra frowns, getting up from the bed as he turns to leave. 

“Asra, wait,” Beatrice calls, “Don’t disappear, please. This isn’t your fault.” 

“Please don’t say that again, Beatrice. This is my fault. Only I would have been able to open that book without harm. I don’t even know if I can fix this, the curse is meant to last,” Asra frowns. He looks calm but Beatrice knows him well enough by now to know that he’s upset, that he needs comfort. She wants to get up from bed and give him a hug, but she’s in pain and he looks like he would turn her away.

“I needed to know the truth, Asra,” She mutters.

“You want the truth?” He takes a step towards the door, “The truth is that even when I’m trying to do a good thing, it ends up hurting you. I always end up hurting you.” 

Beatrice doesn’t know what to say to that, and it doesn’t matter because he’s already out the door, headed out of the apartment. 

Though the burn fades over time it never goes away, it’s a permanent reminder of her curiosity gone awry. Worse still, the burn is a reminder for Asra who can barely stand to be around her, even as the burn fades to a scar on her palm that only hurts on occasion. 

Asra goes away for a while and when he returns he’s back to normal, acting like nothing is wrong. He laughs and jokes with Julian, shows up to dinner parties with Portia and Nadia. Beatrice is fine in the end, but as often as she assures him that she doesn’t blame him, he doesn’t believe her.

He’ll never forgive himself for letting her burn a second time.