Hells, I love this place.
The Twisted Quill is a quiet place, small and out of the way, cozy as can be, and with a much smaller clientele than the larger shops out in the plaza. The rich scent of fresh parchment wafts through the air, and even though it's fairly cluttered, I don't have any problems moving around.
I'd love to browse, but I have other things to do today. Instead, I approach the front counter and find an old friend, giving him a click of my claws as a simple greeting.
"Crimson! Welcome!" he gasps, then smiles. A few sharp teeth are missing. Old, weathered, weary Mathis, a brown and green diamondback lindwurm, welcomes me with open arms. "Truly, you're a welcome sight for ailing eyes! You–You are Crimson, yes? Where are my glasses?"
"Yes, Mathis, it's me. Has your vision worsened, old man?"
"Ah, just a touch." He chuckles, slipping on his thick spectacles and nods. "Much better. There you are. Hello, hello."
"Good to see you." I set my bag on the counter. "Sorry, I'm in a bit of a rush. Lots to do today. But I have something to ask you about. And a few books I'm looking for."
"Oh, gladly. Not a worry. What do you need?"
I set the seventh edition on the counter. "How many other editions of this do you have? And… And which in particular?"
"Hmm. The Luminous, eh? Let me check my catalogue." He picks out another book from under the counter and starts flipping pages, sliding a claw down the list of extremely fine print writing. "Let's see here. You have the seventh. I have the… Ninth. Eighth. Yes. Sixth. I don't have the fifth on hand, but they're not hard to find. And… The fourth."
"Nothing before that?"
He lifts his head, eyes wide. "Hm?"
I repeat, "Do you have a third edition? Or a second?"
"Crimson, my friend, those were written over a thousand years ago, and most have been destroyed or simply fell apart."
"Well, are there any auxiliary copies of the original text that might've survived? Perhaps by other Scribes? Understudies to Xikarius? Anything?"
"I don't believe so. Why are you asking?"
My mood shifts to darker shades. There's something more of this. "I'm asking because I want to read them. All of them. Every edition I can get my hands on. You know, to compare them. What's been added, what's been removed, and most importantly, what's been revised. Can you help me?"
He blinks and straightens up. "I'm afraid not, Crimson. There isn't a single copy, auxiliary or original, that survived the Great Incineration. Are you familiar?"
"When Vander the Black destroyed the Divine Archives and was smited, thus becoming Wretched."
"Yes, yes, but not quite. He was already Wretched before it happened," Mathis nods, drumming his claws on the wooden counter. "It's rare, but it happens."
"What? How? Wretched dracos can't reach the Heavens, can they? And even if they did, the Goddess would know instantly, and smite them right back down."
"Yes, that's correct, Crimson. But sometimes the Fell gets her hooks into even the most pious of draconids while they're fighting down on Avi–plants a seed of doubt in their minds, which stays dormant even after they return here. They're not yet Wretched, so the Goddess's defenses cannot detect the change. Then, either through choosing to give in to the Overgrowth, or becoming corrupted in the fury of some inciting incident, like in Vander's case, that draconid could very well become Wretched while here in the Heavens–and depending on where they are, the Goddess can't always smite them right away. Vander was within the Archives when he learned the truth of his father's death, and because the Goddess was averse to destroying the Archives herself, Vander had free reign to burn the entire thing from the inside out. Only once the structure collapsed did the Goddess smite him, and down to Avi he fell, directly into the Fell's embrace."
I scowl in thought, curling and uncurling my tail. Something doesn't add up here. "Remind me. What was that about his father's death? What was the truth? And why was it hidden?"
"Yes, yes, you see… Vander had always been told that his father died valiantly in battle against the Fell, but Vander later uncovered records citing the cause of his father's death as a betrayal most foul, committed by none other than Vander's own uncle. That uncle? The former Legend Plutoryl. Who, after slaying Vander's father, descended to the Hells of his own volition to join the Fell, becoming the Thirty Third Thorn. The whole thing was kept in the dark, I suppose because such dramaticisms within the noble houses of the true dragons are a danger to their reputations and prestige, and to have such a respectable and mighty patriarch as Plutoryl turn away from the light? Obscene. Small wonder they deceived Vander. Can't quite say I blame them."
"And that discovery is what caused him to become Wretched."
"Yes, I believe so. But keep in mind, this was at the tail end of a decades long search he undertook all on his own, trying to find out what happened to his father. Bit of an at the end of the rope moment and such. He just… snapped."
"Mathis, you're saying… Vander destroyed the ancient texts within the Archives, including all the chronicles written by Xikarius and the Scribes prior to the Incineration. Because he was Wretched?"
"Why, yes, that is indeed so. Xikarius himself logged the incident in great detail in his chronicle of it. I have a second edition of that, if you're interested."
"Yes, please." I wait for him to get back with the book in hand before I ask, "And you're certain it's because he was Wretched? This inciting incident, discovering his uncle's betrayal, that made him Wretched, and then he destroyed the Archives?"
"Well… Yes." Mathis flips through the pages of The Great Incineration and then taps the parchment. "Yes, right here. I quote. 'It is reported and corroborated by the Scribes of the Divine Archive who witnessed Vander's fateful discovery and his subsequent corruption by the Wretched Overgrowth, that upon the horrid vines' constriction about his humanoid person, Vander emitted a violent flame of such abhorrently vicious temperature that all the stacks within the nearby area immediately went up in embers. Vander then…' Yes, yes, the rampage begins, and… Yes. I'll leave that part for you to read, my friend. But there you go. Wretched, then rampage."
Now two things don't add up. I'm going to keep them close to hand for the moment. I nod a few times, reaching into my bag. "And with the Archives' destruction, the Incineration wiped the historical slate clean, so to speak. It destroyed everything. Do I have that correct?"
"More or less, I believe so. Aside from a handful of things which might've been checked out at the time or held in private collections, and a number of documents that managed to survive the blaze. Why do you… Ask? What… What is that?"
I've unfolded the bindings around the first edition. Keeping the book well within my grasp just to be safe, I show him the title page. The look in his eyes… It's transcendental.
Right this moment, Mathis is witnessing a miracle.