If Santi had thought that his time as Head Librarian would consist mainly of the leisurely pursuit of wisdom, then he was mistaken. As he stared into the sunken hollows that might have been the bookworm's eyes, he wondered if this was a mistake that would be paid with his life.

"Oh, Great Devourer of Books, my mortal enemy, would you kindly drop dead?" he asked hopefully. With the first three volumes of the original Oraculi Alchemiae, Prophecies of Alchemy, in his hands, there was no way that he would be able to cast defensively in time. He should have known that such delicious volumes would attract the beast. "Or at the very least, would you let me put these books down first?"

In reply, the bookwoom's looming, serpentine body struck at him, narrowly missing the librarian who had dived out of the way. Its thick tail swung around and barrelled into the poor man's stomach. The brown powder coating the bookworm's hide puffed out on impact, creating a choking cloud that smelled of book dust.

Coughing and wincing, with the books pressed to his chest, Santi rolled unsteadily to his feet. Unfortunately for him, the bookworm wasn't going to let him recover. It threw itselt at him again, this time, its mouth latched onto Santi's shoulder. Enzymes in the bookworm's saliva, evolved to digest tough, leathery covers of books, made short work of Santi's shirt before burning his skin.

With a cry of pain, the librarian flung the books as far as he could from the bookworm. Though every fibre of his body told him to pry the bookworm's sucking mouth from him, to do so would unleash the creature on the scent of books again. If it noticed the volumes of Oraculi Alchemiae now, it would surely devour the books before Santi could stop it.

He drew a nugget of gold the size of an infant's thumb from his pocket. Pain made concentration slippery, but he mustered what he could into a simple, but effective spell.

"Parvorum," he hissed through gritted teeth.

Feeling the flare of power, the bookworm reared back from its not-so-helpless prey. Santi turned and thrust the nugget into the creature's mouth, taking injury to his hand as he forced it down the creature's throat. The pain burned, but triumph gleamed in the librarian's eyes when he withdrew his hand.

The spell took immediate effect, causing the bookworm to shudder and convulse as its body collapsed in proportionately on itself. Smaller and smaller the fearsome creature became, until it was no larger than a pen.

"I accept the terms of your surrender," Santi said, scooping up the limp worm.

As he pondered his next step, he remembered an almost empty jar of honey that had been rolling around in his bottom drawer for months. It would make a good temporary accomodation for this creature until he could decide what to do with it.

After securing the bookworm, he finished the business of shelving the alchemy books and headed out to the Greenhouse to gather the remedy that would heal his burns, or at least stave off the pain.

The walk from the Library to the Greenhouse was quite a distance, but luckily, the campus was abandoned at this time of year. Otherwise, his appearance may have been raised some questions. Santi could only hope that the Greenhouse would be empty too, for there was one person there he definitely did not want to see until his wounds were treated.

Nestled in the mountains and surrounded by endless ancient woods and depthless blue lakes, Von Hohenheim's Academy was a miracle of sandstone. The pale, towering buildings were a relic of the wealth that came with the original settlement. The island's popularity was accredited to the importance of the nutmeg trade at the time, but of course, nutmegs weren't the real reason why the island was settled; that was just an attractive story for the history books. As a result, the lay people of the island were often affectionately called 'nutmegs' by their erudite counterparts.

The Greenhouse, though not made of sandstone, was every bit as impressive and towering as the other buildings. Black metal bars that acted as support for the glass wound upwards for three stories in curved, organic patterns. A delicate green paradise thrived within.

Santi caught his reflection in the glass door as he opened it. His smooth olive skin was interrupted by bright red burns down his shoulder and left arm. His dark hair was tousled and his dark blue eyes were wide with bewilderment. His shirt was in tatters, barely hanging on by the threads over his shoulder. Seeing his appearance reinforced the pain and shock and the ordeal.

He had just survived an encounter with the largest bookworm he'd ever seen, perhaps the largest ever! It was the stuff of heroic ballad, of the annuals documenting the sojourns of the godsblessed!

Except Santi wasn't a hero, and he certainly wasn't chosen by the gods. He was just a librarian. He protected stories, but he certainly didn't star in them. So instead of songs and feastings, he simply limped into the Greenhouse and eased the door closed behind him so that it wouldn't swing shut too quickly and make a victim out of his already sore backside.

As luck would have it, the Greenhouse's usual keeper wasn't there to add insult to his injury. He quickly gathered the plants he needed; aloe vera and lavender for the physical injury, and fennel, garlic and pine for the magical tarnish. There was a storehouse at the rear of the Greenhouse that had been an apothecary in days of old. He rummaged around until he had the other necessary items. Snickering, he then deliberately swapped some of the items around, messing up the categorization system.

He was almost out of the storehouse when his sense of self preservation caught up with him, and he returned to re-order the items back to their original places. If someone had messed up his shelving system, he would hunt the criminal to the ends of the world. The keeper of the Greenhouse would likely do the same to him, except she would be more violent in her extraction of revenge.

The Library greeted him with its usual stoic silence when he returned. The entranceway was framed by ornately sculpted pillars that depicted planets connected by symbols and animals. It was a wealth of knowledge for people who knew where to look. The space beyond the entrance was shaded and cool, defying the beating sun of summer. Heavy oak doors with polished copper handles opened to reveal an atrium surrounded by balconies filled with shelves. Those that had a basic grasp of physics would say that it was impossible to have walkways branching deeper into the Library from the atrium - the building was just not large enough. Yet, the space inside refused to conform to nature's laws, and decided on a whim how big it wanted to be each day. Sometimes, it was the size of a palace. Other days, it was a mere few rooms. The Library rearranged itself all the time, though Santi never had trouble finding what he needed.

As the Head Librarian, he only needed to think of a kitchenette for the Library to fast track the knowledge of its location to his mind. The Library had been created by a great wizard using a set of temporal spells. It should, theoretically, conform according to the rules of the spells. But the longer Santi spent within the Library walls, the more firmly he believed that the Library itself was sentient. It made for a more interesting story, and a less lonely existence for Library's keeper.

In the kitchenette, he found the tools he needed to whisk together his remedy. Once finished, he applied the salve carefully to his wounds, and noted with grim humour that the cure was more painful than the burn.

With teary eyes and hastily washed hands, he stumbled to his work desk. The bookworm had regained consciousness and had begun the futile gesture of throwing itself against the glass jar. When it noticed his presence, it glared up with its non-eyes.

Santi glared back openly. He pointed a finger to his burns, now slathered in a brown-green goop.

"Just count yourself lucky that I at least let you live," he said. He sat down heavily in his chair with a sigh. Already the pain was beginning to subside. He was no expert on plant alchemy like his younger sister, but he did know how to slap a cure together.

He turned his attention to the bookworm. "Now, what should we do with you?"

A/N

27/04/2014 - Made minor corrections. Thanks Liz for pointing out a few mistakes.

01/05/2014 - Douglas picked up a homophone for me. Thanks, man.

06/05/2014 - Urg. Caught another mistake. Typed 'thing' when I meant 'time'

14/6/14 - Minor corrections with more homophones. Damn homophones. Thank you, TRasa.