Part three of The Tales of a Bookwyrm will be posted right after this! It's titled Any Sufficiently Disguised Magic. I've also uploaded all three parts, as well as my Pushing Daisies/Forever crossover to Archive of Our Own under the same penname, VioletLink7. This drabble was written in order to fix a small inconsistency in Excalibur's Secret in which Cassandra wonders why her soul was attached to Excalibur, and then later explains why to Flynn. This is why editors get paid, guys. Still, I'm happy with this little insert into the universe, as much as I feel the need to apologize for it. L recently started watching The Librarians and is mad that I wrote this. ;) (What is said here is the "official" explanation I had in mind from the beginning, though the characters themselves are technically speculating.)

Cassandra Cillian, a Librarian in Training formerly known as Merlin Ambrosius, was sitting in her room. She was speaking very animatedly over the phone with Kilgarrah, a middle-aged gentleman of not inconsiderate wealth who was once known as The Great Dragon in the days of Camelot. The two had reunited the day before, and Cassandra was frankly shocked when Kilgarrah had handed her a phone number. To think that stuffy old dragon would give modern technology the time of day...Well, she might never get over the idea.

"Kilgarrah, I was wondering if I could run a theory by you," said Cassandra. "When I was telling Flynn about my time as Excalibur, it just kind of left my mouth. It sounded good and I was wondering if it was true."

"What did you say, Young Witch?" Kilgarrah asked.

"I said that Merlin's magic, my magic, couldn't leave the world and so my soul was torn in two," Cassie said.

"That does, indeed, make sense," Kilgarrah said. "You are magic itself, you were not supposed to leave this world in the first place."

"What do you mean?" Cassandra asked, her voice shaking mildly. She knew what he meant, what her father had meant in the Crystal Cave fifteen hundred years ago, but she didn't want it to be true.

"You are immortal, Cassandra," Kilgarrah said. His tone was not unkind, it was soft and just a bit comforting. He must have known how much it pained her. It wasn't often he used her name, either.

"What if I don't want to be immortal?" Cassandra asked, her eyes welling up with tears.

"I am afraid there is nothing you can do about it," Kilgarrah confessed. "Even if you were to die by a dragon-forged blade again, you would only be reborn as you have now." Cassandra sniffled and hung up the phone. She'd apologize to Kilgarrah later. There was a knock at her door and, hearing no response, the person on the other side eased the door open. Said person was the Caretaker of the Library's Portland Annex, previously known as Sir Galahad, Knight of Camelot.

"Miss Cillian, are you—" Jenkins stopped short at the sight of her. Cassandra was sitting on the floor next to her bed, hugging a pillow to her chest and sobbing. "Are you alright?" The little witch looked up and, quite uncharacteristically, Jenkins shut the door and sat down beside her. Cassandra immediately hugged him.

He didn't ask her what was wrong, or really say anything. He just held her like that until she fell asleep then settled her into her bed. For all his talk, Jenkins had grown fond of the LiTs and their guardian, but Cassandra most of all. They'd talked at length of the sixth century; all that they missed and all that they definitely did not.

Later, Cassandra came and explained to Jenkins why she had been crying, and he assured her he would be there for her for as long as his semi-immortality lasted.