22.8

In the Great Library in Lyr, Zyrdicia sat on the floor, surrounded by tall stacks of books. She snapped the one in her hand shut, then tossed the heavy volume across the room like an angry, spoiled child.

"Be careful! Those are priceless!" Philip hissed, his patience wearing thin. They had been searching for a particular book for hours.

The book she wanted was technically listed as 'missing' in the card index. Zyrdicia, however, knew that it was only missing because she had hidden it somewhere, years ago. She remembered reading it once and then deliberately misfiling it so that no one else could find it. The only problem was that she could not remember where she had hidden it.

This book contained a five-hundred-year-old prophecy disguised as a fairy story. The Zyrian prophet who had penned it was reported to have been stark-raving mad. Even the most erudite Priests had been unable to decode this particular story (though they suspected it was something important).

Zyrdicia had found the book by accident many decades ago. She had thought it was a cruel trick of Azriok's at the time. For whatever reason, she had been unable to destroy the volume. But she also had not wanted the thing in her possession. Hiding it had seemed sensible at the time.

Philip handed her another stack of books. She shook her head immediately, "It was much thinner than any of those. It just had a few pages. Like a folio. It was already falling apart."

"Zyrdicia, perhaps your memory of that time has faded. You were not very clear-headed then. You might have imagined seeing this book."

"It's here! I know it."

"You've never wanted to see any of the prophecies before. Why is this one so urgent?"

"It's different. It's not about the Twilight. It's about something else."

Philip watched her fidget for a moment. She looked so very anxious to him. She had steadfastly refused to tell him what was in the mysterious little book she sought. It was one of the few prophecies that he had never personally read, and not much had ever been written about it in the secondary literature. Indeed, the missing copy of it here in the Great Library was the only known copy in the world. Its title was oddly simplistic for a prophecy: 'Curse of the Seraphim.'

Zyrdicia closed her eyes, trying to retrace her steps in the library a hundred years ago. She had hidden it somewhere that she thought she would remember. There was some trick to it. But now she could not remember the trick.

"Just keep looking!" she ordered.

"Why don't you call for magical help to find it?"

Zyrdicia's gaze fell to the floor. "I can't risk it. For all I know, I'll burn down the library by accident."

Philip nodded gravely, resigned to the search. He had only recently learned of her magical difficulty. He found it troubling.

22.8.1

Five hours later, Philip found the decaying book Zyrdicia sought. It was not in the library's prophecy wing at all. Instead, it was upstairs in the infernal sciences collection, hidden among volumes on the physical properties of demon excrement.

Philip read it cover to cover before bringing it to her. He expected it would be the only chance he would ever have to study it. He was a little sad that he had not seen this particular prophecy sooner. It would have made such a lovely addition to her biography. He understood perfectly why it had confounded the old Priests, and why it had troubled Zyrdicia so.

He took it to her, handing it over without saying a word. She took it and read it quickly, making no effort to mask her apprehension. She scowled anxiously, discovering details she had long-forgotten. When she was finished, she exhaled with a sound that sounded almost like a whimper. She then buried her face in her hands.

Philip patted the back of her head reassuringly. "Its truth has already been partially born out, hasn't it dear?"

"Mm," she answered reluctantly.

"You have the best parts of Sephiroth and humanity, Zyrdicia. You should revel in that."

"But those parts despise one another," she whispered sadly.