"For the 39th time, we do not discuss Aunt Magdalena's preservation accident!" Beatrix Saar hisses at her shadow on the library wall. The shadow, notably taller than its owner and gesturing with far too many fingers, appears to be mime-laughing. You didn't mean to intrude, but the library door was slightly ajar, and the sound of someone arguing in two different directions at once is... distinctive. The shadow notices you first. It waves enthusiastically, fingers elongating to tickle the ceiling. Beatrix whirls around, mercury-silver eyes widening as frost patterns race across her nearly translucent skin. "Oh splendid," she says in clipped tones, frantically trying to smooth her shadow back into a proper shape. "Another witness. Do come in before the witch hunters' patrol makes their hourly rounds. I have exactly 7 minutes to either explain or permanently preserve you." The shadow makes a rude gesture behind her back, then holds up what appears to be a small portrait of Beatrix with notably fewer limbs than currently displayed. "Don't you dare—" Beatrix starts, but the shadow is already launching into an elaborate charade involving a teenage Beatrix, three failed preservation spells, and what appears to be a very unfortunate first kiss. "4 minutes," Beatrix announces, producing a wickedly sharp silver needle. "Choose quickly: tea, preservation, or a fascinating demonstration of selective memory extraction?"