Chapter: 4
Tyler walked carefully through the village streets, keeping to the shadows where the early morning light couldn't quite reach. The clothes she'd taken from the boy were a bit baggy, but they did the job of helping her blend in.
"Clothes and bath—check. Now to learn the language and everything else about this world," she muttered under her breath, golden eyes scanning her surroundings. "A school would be ideal, but that's not happening… so, a library it is."
It took nearly an hour of wandering, made even longer by her complete inability to read the signs above doorways. More than once, she nearly walked into a tailor's shop or what looked like an apothecary. But eventually, her persistence paid off.
At the far end of the village, nestled between a cobblestone plaza and a small garden filled with flowering herbs, stood the library.
The building was massive, easily the largest structure she'd seen so far—tall and narrow like a cathedral, its arched windows filled with stained glass that cast rainbow patterns on the stone walkway. Vines crawled up one side of its weathered gray stone walls, and a small stone fountain trickled nearby, its gentle flow lending the place a serene atmosphere. The air around it smelled faintly of ink, parchment, and old wood.
"Finally," Tyler sighed, striding up the worn steps and pushing open the heavy double doors.
Inside, the library opened up into a breathtaking expanse of dark wood and quiet whispers.
Rows upon rows of towering bookshelves stretched toward a vaulted ceiling supported by carved columns, each etched with symbols and imagery she didn't recognize. Glowing lanterns floated gently in the air above, casting a soft, warm light that made the place feel timeless. A spiral staircase wound up to a second level that circled the main hall like a balcony, lined with even more shelves and reading alcoves.
There were people here, too—villagers of all ages, mostly keeping to themselves. Some read quietly at wide, polished tables. Others thumbed through scrolls or flipped through dusty tomes on wooden benches.
At the front desk sat a stern-looking older woman, her silver hair tied into a tight bun, round glasses perched on her nose. She barely glanced up from her book as Tyler entered.
Tyler offered a quick, silent wave and received only a distracted nod in return.
'Good. No questions.'
She wandered into one of the aisles, scanning the spines of the books—though she couldn't read a single one. The written language looked like looping runes mixed with sharp slashes, almost like someone tried to fuse calligraphy with geometry.
Still, she picked out four books at random—some slim, others thick and ancient—and made her way to a small desk tucked beneath a window.
Sliding into the seat, she opened the first book and stared at the incomprehensible script.
"…Right. This might take a while."
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Thirty minutes later...
Tyler groaned and let her head fall forward, her forehead thunking against the dark mahogany desk. The satisfying impact helped her frustration—but not as much as she hoped.
"Shhhh!" came a chorus of annoyed whispers from nearby readers.
Tyler groaned louder this time, waving a dismissive hand in the air without lifting her head. "Yeah, yeah, I get it," she muttered into the polished wood.
She slowly sat back up, dragging her hands down her face as she stared blankly at the open book in front of her—its pages covered in that same looping, alien script.
"Of course," she muttered, her voice low but bitter. "Why did I think I could just read this? Different world, different alphabet, different everything."
She slumped back in her chair, rubbing her temples.
'What the hell am I supposed to do now? If I can't even read, how the hell am I going to learn anything? How am I going to survive here?'
She groaned again, looking up at the ceiling like it might offer her divine intervention.
"What I wouldn't give for a skill that just deletes the language barrier…" she muttered. Then she blinked. Her eyes narrowed.
"…Wait. Language barrier."
Before the thought could finish forming, a soft voice cut through her spiral.
"Halō, behofst þū hilpe? Þā bōcen synt tō forhēaf for þē, ne wenst þū swā?"
Tyler's head snapped toward the voice, brows raised in confusion.
Standing beside her was a woman—tall, with an elegant, almost scholarly air. Her skin was a warm bronze tone, smooth and clear. She had thick, waist-length chestnut-brown hair woven into a loose braid, streaked with golden beads. Her features were angular but soft—high cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes the color of deep amber, and lips curved in a gentle, curious smile.
She wore a long, belted robe of midnight blue with silver trim. Intricate patterns of stars and runes decorated the sleeves and hem. A sash of embroidered silk was tied at her waist, and a leather-bound satchel hung from one shoulder.
Tyler blinked at her.
"…What?" she asked, her tone automatically defensive.
The woman tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing in thought.
'Her words... Not local. Not native. From the north? No... farther, half-known.'
She cleared her throat, then tried again—her next words slow and deliberate, laced with an awkward rhythm:
"You… are in… of needing aid, yes? These books… too heavy… for your knowing?"
Tyler stared, stunned.
Someone actually speaking English—or something like it. Broken, sure, but recognizable.
"You—wait, you understand me?" she asked, sitting up straighter, eyes wide.
The woman furrowed her brow, straining to catch the meaning. "I… knowing few words. Speak… not often. But I try. For… helping?"
Tyler blinked again, then let out a breathless laugh. "This is the best thing that's happened to me since I got here."
The woman smiled gently and gave a small bow. "Then… I am glad."
Tyler finally leaned forward, letting her arms rest on the table as some tension left her shoulders. Her tone grew more serious.
"Okay... but why are you helping me?" she asked, eyes narrowing slightly. Despite her young face, there was a hardness behind the question—wary and sharp.
The woman was caught off guard by the intensity in the voice of someone who looked no older than thirteen.
'Just who is this girl?' she thought, her gaze lingering.
The woman could tell there was something odd about this girl. Her eyes... they didn't belong to your typical villager. Or even a noble.
She composed herself quickly, clearing her throat and extending her hand in greeting.
"I... apologize for the mis...understanding. I really do mean well. My name is Anessa. What is... your name?"
Tyler looked at the outstretched hand, hesitant, before finally shaking it.
"My name is Tyler. Tyler Smith."
Tyler didn't know if she could trust this woman—but for now, it was a start. And she'd take a start.
Chapter 4: End