The Other Spirit: Part 1

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North was more than happy to grant him access to the vast library in his workshop. Jack had never been to this area of the complex and was floored by how massive the room was. Room? More like an atrium. Aside from the workshop itself, it was likely the largest area of the Pole; the ceiling had to be at least eight metres high, and it was long enough for him to struggle to make out the individual books on the shelf opposite the entrance. And every available inch of wall space was filled with books of all sizes and colours. Even the enormous pillars supporting the roof had shelves embedded in them. While Jack wasn't much for reading, even he was impressed.

"Is there anything you are looking for in particular?" North asked, clearly brimming with pride for his collection.

"Kinda," Jack replied, "I'm just interested in the myths that humans have and how much of it is actually real."

While not untrue, it didn't express Jack's real goal: to discover who the Spirit of Winter had been before himself. He doubted North would understand.

He seemed satisfied with his answer and replied, "In that case. You might try the mythology section."

He led the way deeper into the library, Jack marvelling at the sheer amount of knowledge stored amongst the pages. North had had several centuries to amass such a collection. He wondered how much of it he had actually read.

"Here we are."

North gestured to the shelf that reached the ceiling far above him. There had to be at least three hundred books there.

"All of that?" Jack gaped, suddenly realising how big of a task he faced.

"Indeed," North agreed, beaming with pride, "Humans have such a great variety of myths and beliefs and I tried to collect as much of it as I could."

Jack swallowed and forced himself to focus. "Thanks, North. I'll let you get back to you work."

North clasped him on the back and made his way back out, calling, "Do not work yourself too hard, Jack!"

The door closed with an echoing boom, leaving Jack to ponder where on earth he'd begin. He didn't even know what region the spirit had originated from. They all reflected one particular nationality; Mabon was British, Alsayf was Persian, Chūntiān was Chinese, and he himself was an American colonial, as his memories had revealed. Could the other spirit also be American?

He stared up at the topmost shelf where the countries beginning with 'A' were bound to be. Calling up the wind, he leaped to the top shelf and hovered there, arduously scanning the spines, frustrated at how slow he was.

He had only learned to read in the last century, sneaking into classrooms and following along with the lessons. It had been the most boring thing he had ever done but he had deemed it necessary after observing lines of people with their noses pressed to newspapers he later learned were filled with reports on World War One.

He finally deciphered the lettering on the spines and selected the books related to American myths, landing and gingerly setting them on floor. Deciding to dive straight in, he opened the largest one and flipped to the contents page.

"'Native... American... deities...'" he slowly read then frowned. He wasn't Native American. At least, he was pretty sure he wasn't. The following chapters were of similar subjects, describing religious practices and beliefs. He sighed and checked the other books he'd chosen. Two were practically the same, while another was of modern religions currently practiced in the country.

With an annoyed grumble, he returned the books to their proper places and floated backwards, examining the shelf again. The answer was there somewhere on the shelf, but he couldn't exactly go through all of them.

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