Letter 20

Poppy,

The Chief Librarian found me at breakfast this morning. She thanked me for what I did to fix the crack and said that she was glad that I was using my power again. I was too taken aback to reply.

While I was working, I heard one of the assistants report to the Class 2 Librarian on duty. Some of the magelights in the vaults have gone out. The Librarian said they just needed recharging, but I shivered. Visions of black robes and skeletal hands filled my mind. The wraiths could be getting bolder. They could hurt someone.

This evening I went back to the stone corridor to practise. Magnar was excited. He likes to sit on the terrace and look out over Thurlfen Forest. I practised with water again, and then ice. I was able to summon ice from nowhere, just like in sublevel 3, but this time I practised control. I must have thrown more than one hundred spears of ice along the corridor, each more precise than the last.

Once I felt more confident, I went back to sublevel 3 to check on the ice. The library is so quiet and peaceful at night. The ice had held well in the crack, filling up all of the space and showing no signs of melting.

But when I was leaving, I heard thick, raspy breaths in the corridor outside. Magnar’s ears were glowing red, and I knew I would have to fight my way out.

I readied the dagger in my shaking hands as I edged out into the corridor. But the wraith was ready for me. It grabbed me, sharp bony fingers digging into my shoulder, pulling me down. Its vice-like grip so much stronger than the other wraiths. The dagger dropped from my fingers as I shrieked in pain, and the wraith removed its hand to hover above me. I couldn't think. Without the dagger, I'd have to rely on my power. But I couldn't focus.

Magnar flew towards the wraith, ears glowing with the brightest white light. But the wraith's face was fixed on me, its hood shielding it from the light.

My breath caught in my throat. The wraith's hand slithered towards me and I still couldn't move. I tried to use my power but it kept just slipping out of my grasp. All I could do was watch as the fingers of the wraith closed around my cloak.

But heat surged through me. The wraith let go, howling in agony. Flames flickered over its hand before racing up its arm as the cloak caught fire, engulfing it completely. As it disintegrated into ash, Magnar fluttered to my side and I sank to the stone floor, steadying my breath.

In my desperation, it was fire that rose to the surface. But this time it protected me. It didn't hurt Magnar, or me, only the wraith. I can’t say I’m not grateful, but it could have been so much worse.

But if I don't train my fire magic, how will I ever learn control?

I know that’s what I need to do. But the thought of doing it is terrifying.

Forever your friend,

Willow