A person clad in the uniform of the Jailors made a mad dash through the vast halls of the Library. A barrage of arcane energy pulsed behind them. A perfectly timed ward protected them from the blast, which collided against the barrier and exploded, knocking over bookcases and sending patrons running. The Jailor stood on one knee, slowly rising to a secure stance once more. They clutched a book tightly to their chest, not daring to drop it.
"Is that all you got?" they asked, panting.
"YOU'VE GOT SOME NERVE COMING BACK HERE." the menacing voice of the Archivist echoed across the Library.
"I forgot to bring something before I left. Cut me some slack."
"THE TOMES OF THE LIBRARY NO LONGER BELONG TO YOU, TRAITOR." The Archivist had finally caught up to the Jailor, his mighty mandibles dripping with mana and his long body pulsating with energy. He towered over the bookcases as his many legs carried him forward towards his stationary prey.
"All this stuff about betrayal… I think you're taking this a little too personally, Roundy."
The Archivist lunged forward, threatening with his mandibles. The Jailor muttered an ancient phrase, disappearing from their original position and reappearing atop a bookcase. The Archivist slammed against the tile floor, creating a hole on impact. He slithered into it, his yellow eyes glowing in the darkness below.
"WHAT DID THEY DO TO MAKE YOU SAIL YOUR COMRADES DOWN THE RIVER?" The Archivist struck out from his newly created hiding place, emerging like snake from a burrow to attack the betrayer.
The Jailor leaped from their position, a crackle of energy forming in their left palm. The crackle turned into a spark, then turned into a bright, burning ember of arcane energy. The Archivist and the Jailor collided in the air, both of them struggling against one another for a moment before each of them leaped backward.
"What's one book to you? You've got all of them here! Just let me leave with my property." They stood back to the wall, preparing another blast of energy in their hand.
"NO. YOU WILL BE PUNISHED FOR YOUR CRIMES, TILDA." The Archivist coiled his long body into a defensive position, menacing with his strong jaws. His body glowed a faint red, he was preparing another volley.
"I only did what I thought was best."
"YOUR ACTIONS HAVE HAD UNTOLD CONSEQUENCES. YOU SOLD OUT YOUR FRIENDS, NO, YOUR FAMILY TO THE JAILORS. AND FOR WHAT? SAFETY? YOU ARE NOTHING BUT AN OBJECT TO THEM, USEFUL UNTIL YOU ARE NOT."
"You don't know that."
"DON'T I?"
Before the Jailor could answer, a barrage of red arcane missiles escaped from the maw of the Archivist and towards them.
"Shit!" They exclaimed, dropping the book they had so tightly grasped before, erecting a ward. The missiles impacted against the ward, each of them sending the Jailor further back against the wall. With little recourse left, they lowered their right hand to search their pocket, producing a small beacon. They pressed the red button on it and dropped it on the floor beside them. Suddenly, a Way ripped open on the spot and a small team of gunmen poured out, each of them concentrating their fire on the Archivist.
Blue blood poured from the wounds suffered by the Archivist, who recoiled in pain at the lead being pumped into his body. He let out a bloodcurling screech and lunged forward, knocking over most of the gunmen.
"Go! Go! Go!" one of them yelled at the Jailor, urging them to enter the Way. The Jailor turned to grab the book they were harboring, only to find it was being dragged away by the tentacle of an unseen being behind the bookcase.
"I'm afraid your library access has been restricted." Its soft, gentle voice carried with it a haunting tone. "Goodbye, traitor. Do not return." The tentacle retreated behind the bookshelf and the Jailor was faced with no option other than to escape. They quickly moved towards the open Way, then turned to face the Archivist tearing the men who saved them asunder. Red and blue blood mixed into a sickly purple on his body as the carnage continued.
The Jailor sighed before escaping through the Way, utterly defeated.
