It was quite a thing to say that you’d practically grown up in the city’s biggest library and archives. Quail could still remember his younger years right after being adopted, as he tentatively explored the halls and wandered between bookshelves, checked maps, tried to find everything he could here. The King Library and Archives was a mysterious place, full of hoarded knowledge and forgotten things. If you were looking for secrets, you’d find plenty exploring its five floors, big enough to take up an entire city block and yet still seeming bigger on the inside. Secret rooms, hidden alcoves, storages full of cryptic items, mini kitchenettes, tiny cluttered study rooms… all nestled between thousands of tomes on any subject you could ever want. It was an investigator’s nightmare, a supernatural lover’s dream, and an exhausted student’s dreammare, all at once.

And yet even after spending sixteen years growing up here, Quail still found secrets, even though he’d tried so thoroughly to find them all. He wasn’t sure if that meant he was garbage at exploring or if the library was messing with him. Either way, it was as fascinating as it was annoying. All these cryptic secrets were what got him into the occult, because this place just wasn’t natural and he could sense it.

Or maybe it was that it was so natural and ancient that it was alien to more modern creatures like humans. Quail wasn’t sure.

When his adopted father offered him a part time job as assistant librarian, Quail took it and quit the occult club, for a lot of reasons. The biggest being that while there was something off about the library, it at least wasn’t actively dangerous. Nothing in here could hurt you. Unlike some of the shit the occult club messed with. The occult was to be admired from a distance, not trifled with. He’d told Marley that a million times, but she never listened.

Plus… the library had always been home. Quite literally. Not many people knew that on the roof was a small cottage where Professor King and Quail lived. And likely Mercy, the other assistant librarian, at some point.

Professor King had a habit of adopting wayward outcasts left unattended. From a little orphanage runaway who got into constant fights, to a student investigator who was too focused on her work to ever really socialize, to a nonverbal woman who was very outgoing but lived in a world where most people didn’t know ASL.

The library was a refuge, even if it felt very unnatural, and Professor King was… well, the king, he supposed.

That’s why, now that he was no longer in the occult club, Quail occupied himself trying to find more secrets in his home. He already knew quite a few of them. 

On the third floor if you kept walking to the East for quite a while you’d find a greenhouse built into a large balcony, unable to seen from the outside. Inside were many well cared for strange plants, the majority carnivorous. There were especially a large number of pitcher plants. If Quail ever found bugs in the library, he liked to kill them and feed them to the pitcher plants.

On the fourth floor to the northwest there was a coffee shop run by people in white masks. The tea was stellar though, and super cheap, only a dollar for anything you could imagine, even though Quail had no idea why they wore masks. He liked to take his friends up there when he wanted to have a private study session with drinks and food.

There was also a small glass room in the middle of the bookshelves towards the center of the second floor that had strange dancing life-sized dolls. And of course he couldn’t forget the self-sufficient aviary and owl sanctuary on the fifth floor southeast corner.

Those were all found in his childhood, though. He wanted to find even more. He decided to try going around the inside perimeter of the library today. The place was so big that he probably couldn’t do all the floors in one day, hell, he might not get done with the first floor before it was time for his shift as assistant librarian. He only had so much free time to do this.

“Isagani, I’m off to look for secrets.” Quail told his adopted father, Professor King, as he buckled up his rucksack.

“Ah, hold on.” Professor King hurried over with a little bag of buchi and a bottle of water. “Here. The human body requires nutrients and hydration, you know. I don’t want you getting lost and passing out.”

Quail aggressively rolled his eyes and blew his curly white hair out of his eyes. “I was eight the last time that happened, tatay!” But he took the snacks and drink anyway and put in the side pocket of his rucksack before he hefted it on one shoulder, the heavy bag squishing his soft muted yellow sweater. “Tell Hiraya I said hi if she comes by.”

“Of course. You know where to find me if you need me.” And so his adopted father brushed long white hair out of his face and stepped aside.

Quail left the large study area and trekked into the bookshelves, and hugged the wall as he kept going. He observed the iron signs jutting out of the marble columns high above, signaling each section. Carved figures in flowing cloaks stood high above him, holding up the gothic arches of the windows. They’re all unique, each with strange features. Some of them have become landmarks to him at this point. He didn’t know their names, but he had nicknames for a few notable ones. He wondered who they were, to be immortalized here. He suspected they were past librarians, as he buffed his permanently black tipped fingers on his sweater. Not every column had a figure, and this library was ancient, so maybe it was their way of honoring each librarian’s work. Though he had no idea who was librarian before Professor King.

He passed the kids’ section, which came included with a large reading nook in the wall filled with beanbags and drawing tables. This was the first ‘secret’ he discovered. He spent a lot of time here as a kid. Holding up the middle column between the two entrances to the reading nook was a carved figure Quail was very familiar with.

She was a woman in clothing from the pre-colonial Philippines, though he wasn’t totally sure of the exact time period, and she held a young child on her hip with a smile while she effortlessly held up the column. A few more children stood at her feet, clutching her skirts. She was the only carved figure Quail knew the name of, because Professor King tended to talk to her as if she was alive when he thought no one was watching. Her name was Dalisay, though Quail had jokingly called her ‘Mom’ since he was a kid.

There was already a lot of kids in the reading nook, since the first floor of the library wad open to the public, so Quail decided not to linger.

Then, for a while of a walk, it was just himself and his thoughts.

He wondered if his Mama would be okay with where he was now. With the life he decided on after her death. He didn’t know what she hoped he’d do when he grew up, after all he lost her so young. He wondered if she’d be happy or sad that he had such trouble calling his adopted father by a parental title and instead usually called him by his name or formal title. He wondered if she’d like Isagani.

In his daydreams, his Mama would come back to life and fall in love with Professor King, because most people were in love with the head librarian. And then… Quail supposes he would live happily ever after. If such a thing really existed, anyway.

‘Maybe that’ll stop people my age from flirting with my adopted father right in front of me.’ He griped with disgust in his head, even though he knew it likely wouldn’t.

Still… he’s not sure if it was possible to be completely happy. There was always gonna be something hurting you. Life would make up things to be unsatisfied with even when you had everything, doesn’t it? He figured he wouldn’t worry about it too much. There was much more to the world than his petty struggles.

It was just as he came to that conclusion that he came across a stained glass door in the wall. It was hidden on the western wall, about a fifteen minute walk from the southwest corner of the library. It depicted a figure cloaked in tattered yellow robes surrounded by colorful glass. Quail opened the door carefully and stepped in. Inside was a small room with what looked like an altar and a few rows of cushioned benches with pillows. Quail came in carefully. It looked like a place of worship. He’d never seen it before.

There was an inscription on the altar. Quail stepped close to read it. It was in an occult language he’d studied enough to know a lot of words in. ‘Altar of Encounters. Pray to be put on a crossroads. Dream to be given a important vision. Be warned, not all encounters are pleasant.’

Quail set his rucksack on one of the cushioned benches and kneeled in front of the altar. It didn’t say who to pray to.

As a joke, Quail prayed to Professor King. Everyone did call him the patron saint of nerds and bad students. People prayed to saints, didn’t they?

He wasn’t sure how to pray, as he wasn’t raised religious, so he kind of winged it based on his occultist books.

‘Please show me a sign telling me if I’m on the right path.’ He thought simply, hands clasped in prayer.

That’s when someone opened the door to the room.

“Quail?” 

He turned to see Marley, the president of the occult club as she approached him.

“I was looking for you. I didn’t expect to find you here. I’m pretty sure this is an unholy place, you know.” She sniffed.

“It feels plenty sacred to me. It’s peaceful.” Quail shrugged.

“You don’t feel watched?”

“Not in a bad way. More like maybe something looking out for me. Anyway, you were looking for me?” He asked.

She gave him a weird look. “Right… Well. I wanted to ask you to join us for a ritual tonight. I know you’re not in the club anymore, but— if this works, we could all get riches and knowledge beyond our imaginations.”

Alarm bells rung off in his head. “You’re trying to summon something! I told you only bad things could happen from that!! What the hell are you thinking?! You’re going to get the whole club killed!” He barked.

“We’ll be fine! The summoning circle will keep her contained!” Marley said confidently.

“You’re an absolute dumbass.” Quail deadpanned. “You really think that can stop a creature beyond our comprehension? I’m not helping you when you get yourself snatched or some shit.”

“Well fine!” She huffed. “And when it works I’ll tell her that you said that!”

“You’ll do no such thing.” A deep voice purred. Almost like he came from the shadows, Professor King appeared. “Trifling with things you don’t understand is one thing, but getting innocents involved is another.”

Marley paled. “What are you going to do about it?!” She shot.

As soon as the question left her lips, she stumbled backwards, unsteady and disoriented. She barely managed to stay standing.

“No yelling in a place of worship.” Professor King intoned, voice soft but commanding. “As for what I will do it about it… nothing, really. I don’t need to. The library protects its own. It cannot be won over, even by the goddess you are infatuated by.”

“I…” Marley swayed on her feet, unable to answer.

“Looks like you’ve declared yourself an enemy. I hope you didn’t need to study anytime soon.” The professor sighed. “Leave this place.”

Robotically, Marley stumbled out.

“Tatay… what’s going on, exactly?” Quail was a little shaken after all of that.

“You will understand in due time. But don’t fret. You and those you care about will be safe.” Professor King smiled and pat his shoulder.

Quail had a million more questions, but… he knew the only way to get answers was to keep looking for them himself. If he knew anyone, it was his adopted father. Professor King would make sure you understood the material, and would guide you to the right books, but you had to do the required reading yourself. He was a very hands on professor. If Quail wanted answers… he knew damn well he wasn’t going to get them now. So he nodded, tersely.

((This story is set in the same universe as my other submission to the contest, “Yellow or Purple?” but they can be read separately.))