“The six-eyed Heartless will come with us to undergo preliminary examination,” one of the polymaths suddenly says. “The duration of our study will be approximately two halves. If the results of the preliminary examination prove the presence of further information, you will be allowed access to our materials.”

Malachite snorts. Fione stands, hands folded over the book, and the book to her chest.

“You won’t harm her?” she asks. The polymath’s silver-robed head tilts to her and pauses, as if it’s a question they’ve already answered, or maybe one so obvious it doesn’t deserve an answer. Fione, worried about me, and Malachite in his own way. All of them, caring for me.

I ease Lucien’s hand off my waist, slow and reassuring, and give him my best smile. “I’ll be back.”

“You have to be,” he insists, the black of his eyes near-matching the volcanic rock. “We have a beach date.”

My laugh goes nowhere in the cramped room, and as I pass Malachite, he pulls on my ear softly. “Don’t put up with it if it stinks.”

“Yes, sir,” I agree, patting him on the head. The silver-robed polymaths follow me out the door, and I can hear Malachite’s grumbling all the way down the hall as he fixes his hair, the sound a comforting accompaniment into the unknown.

The polymath who spoke leads me down the hall, but not to the central library ward. This time we hang a far left, arcing down and around a ramp built on the edge of a massive chasm, in which a huge pendulum made entirely of what looks like clear quartz crystal rocks gently side to side. It’s a miracle the thing doesn’t just ram through the walls of the room, but I suppose that’s all due to the polymaths’ careful calculations.

The rocking of the pendulum soon fades, our steps the only things daring to break the black silence. The hallway narrows down to a single ominous door, and the silver robes open it for me with a ring of keys from their belts. This room is far more spacious than the reception cell they put us in, but also sparser. The only things in the room are a large chair seemingly carved straight out of the volcanic rock, and what looks like gutters carved into the ground, centering around the chair. A single shaft of white sunlight pierces in from a hole in the ceiling, illuminating only the chair.

“Please.” One of the silver robes motions. “Sit. This will not take long.”

“Two halves, right?” I say, tempering the nerves in my voice as I sit on the cold, ominous throne.