Whispers and giggles around me reminded me that even though I attended the most prestigious school for witches in the known universe, we were all still like any other girls our age; a bunch of caddy young women, prone to gossip and spreading rumors.

I looked up from the leather-bound journal in front of me. My gaze met that of a group of girls, all first-year students, as they pointed and sneered in my direction. When they noticed me looking at them, one of them gasped and they all turned around and walked away briskly, leaning into one another giggling.

I may have been the daughter of the High Witch of Litreateine, in line to rule over every witch coven in our realm, but at school I was just another nerd that everyone made fun of.

They just didn’t understand, that was all. They didn’t understand the pressure to be the best of my class. To outshine every other witch of my generation. I could never be the High Witch if there was someone who could challenge my claim. I’d have to be the best. The most powerful.

Rolling my eyes, I tried to ignore them. There was only a couple of more days before the official start of Summer, and school would be out soon. I looked forward to not being on campus for a couple of moons before next year’s classes start. It couldn’t come fast enough.

I returned my focus to the book in front of me and my mother’s scribbled handwriting. I’d been studying this journal since my twenty-first birthday when she first gave it to me. She’d kept the journal when she was my age and was attending the same academy I was at now. Less than a year later and I’d flipped through the delicate pages every day since, desperate to understand what she knew, and how she felt as she proved herself as the Heir Apparent.

In the Kingdom of the Witches, it was common practice for the children of the High Witch to follow them in succession; the same was true with every other Kingdom in Trinyaddae. However, where the Witches were unique was in how the Heir was chosen. There was a test (it was really more like a magical challenge), and every witch naturally in line to take the throne had to pass this test and prove themselves to both the High Witch, and all the witch covens they were to lead. The last part of the test included a competition against some of the best witches of your generation, all challenging your claim to the throne. If the natural Heir couldn’t prove themselves or wasn’t triumphant in their battle between peers, they weren’t chosen to be the next High Witch. Once the Heir passed this test, they officially became the Heir Apparent.

There had only been one time in our entire history that an Heir didn’t pass the test and was skipped in succession. I was determined not to let that happen to me.

My mother had proven herself before she took the test, so by the time the test came around, she passed it with flying colors. It was hard not to be jealous of her. She’d been known as a hero during her time at the academy after she put a stop to a coven of witches using dark magic. I was nowhere near as special, and all I could hope was that I would be a fraction of the witch she was.

It was an extraordinary experience to read about the legendary stories detailing this time in her life from her own point of view. It all started at the beginning of the third trimester in her junior year at the academy, and I was reading the entry that started it all now. Whenever I was feeling particularly nervous about my own upcoming test, I would re-read her journal from this place to when she was named Heir apparent. I’ve read this part of her journal at least a hundred times over.

I’ll never be as good as her…I thought grimly. It was already the end of my own junior year, and I had no accomplishments that stood up to hers in the slightest. How was I ever going to pass the test? Distraut, I let my finger trace down the yellowing page of the entry that started it all. I let my eyes memorize the words on the page for the umpteenth time.

Day 63 of the Year 6070 A.C.

Something feels different this year as I come back to campus for the Spring Semester. This was always my favorite time of the year on campus; when the cherry blossoms are beginning to bloom, and color begins seeping back into the world after the dreary winter. It’s a magical time of the year. This year, though, it just feels off. Nothing appears different on the surface, but something just feels darker. I’ve never felt anything like it before. I couldn’t shake the feeling all day, and eventually, I asked mother about it. She was adamant that I was just imagining things and told me not to worry about it. She’s probably right—It must be the back-to-school jitters or something. I have a lot to study this semester if I am going to be ready for my test next year. Maybe the stress is getting to me. Whatever it is, it’s beginning to feel like something is watching me, and I don’t like it.

C.G.

A shiver ran down my spine and I slammed the journal closed in frustration. I rubbed my eyes before letting my head fall into my hands. Maybe this was useless. I’d read and re-read these passages so many times, it was starting to feel impossible that I’d learn anything new from it. Maybe my only hope was studying until my eyes bled; something I already did with almost every free moment I had.

Besides, whatever dark magic my mother had faced when she was my age wasn’t going to help me now. It’s not like I was living through the same situation as her—though I was desperate for any sort of situation so that I could prove myself. All I really had to do was take a damn test. What was the point of torturing myself?

Giving up, I shoved the journal into my bag and looked up at the large windows that bordered the southern wall of the library. I frowned when I realized the sun had set, and an early dusting of stars began to appear on the horizon of the dimming sky. I’d lost track of time. Again.

I pushed the chair back from the table and stood, shoving the last of my things in my bag as quickly as I could. My mother would be anticipating me soon. I was expected to have dinner with her on the nights she was on campus, which wasn’t very often, but she was here now, and I was late. She was set to be here all quarter moon actually, a tradition the High Witch had kept since the school’s creation, to host the celebration for graduating witches.

I swung my bag over my shoulder, and it bumped against my hip as I pushed the chair back in. Suddenly, a cold shiver ran down my spine and settled over the room. A slight tremble ran through my body as I looked around.

The library is deserted, you’re the only one here, I thought to myself as I shook my head and made my way to the door. I’d only taken a couple of steps when I felt something reach out for me and gently brush against my arm. Startled, I whipped around with my hands outstretched ready to defend myself, but nothing was there.

Okay, I’m losing it now. Panic ran through my mind.

I took a moment to settle my nerves, as I quickly continued toward the library doors. I kept my attention focused entirely on my surroundings, ready to reach for my wand if needed. With no logical explanation, the air was so cold now that I could see my breath as I exhaled. The lights were growing dimmer around me, some flickering in and out as I passed underneath them. That was definitely not happening just a couple of minutes ago, I thought to myself as fear began to prickle up my skin leaving goosebumps. What was happening?

I quickened my pace again out of fear, though I was mostly worried I was imagining things. This was just my brain playing a cruel trick on me after working myself up, it had to be. There was no other explanation that made sense…right?

Wait. There it was again.

I stopped dead in my tracks as I saw a flicker in the shadows in front of me. I couldn’t tell what it was, but whatever it was, it was moving toward me. My breath caught in my throat at the same time as an intense pressure fell on me, and began pulling me toward the ominous, wavering shadows. I tried to reach for my wand, but it took all of my strength and willpower to resist the tug toward the darkness. The invisible strings kept pulling, but I was holding my ground. I squinted my eyes, trying to discern what was there waiting for me in the dark.

Then, just like that, it ended. I was no longer being pulled toward the shadows. The lights were no longer flickering, and I couldn’t see my breath in the air anymore. It was like it never happened at all, but I knew better than that. Whatever had just happened was not my imagination, was it? Something was surely here; I was not alone like I’d thought. And whatever was here was not normal, either.

Overhead, the spell-powered lights turned off completely. In response, I pulled out my wand, fumbling with a simple light spell as I investigated the shadows around the room. The light I was casting barely cut through the darkness, but it made me feel better to know I was in control of the situation. Or at least, more in control than I’d been just a moment ago. Then, out of the corner of my eyes, a dark shape passed from one bookcase to another.

I whispered a spell I’d known since I was a child. In answer, the light emanating off my wand grew brighter, just enough to wash away the shadows five feet in front of me. That was a little better, but the shadows were thick and unusual. They were limiting my abilities, which wasn’t something I’d encountered before. I crept along the edges of the aisles, toward where I saw the shadow-thing disappear last. My hands started to involuntarily tremble when I grew closer, and my breath hitched in my throat. I came to a stop when I reached the opening of the aisle.

I pressed myself against the bookcase and willed the light spell to dim. Once I had just enough light to see without giving away my location, I took a deep breath and counted down to help my nerves. Three…two…one. I let out my breath and peeked around the corner down the long row of books stacked neatly in order and wreathed in shadow. Nothing.

Squinting my eyes, I crept forward down the aisle. My heart was racing so fast I could hear its erratic beats pounding against my chest in a rapid staccato. Fear pumped through my veins as I moved slowly toward the end of the row. Don’t be afraid, Evie. Be brave, I whispered to myself as I came to a stop at the end of the aisle. I was terrified of what could be waiting for me around the corner. I let out a quick exhale before briskly peeking around the shadowed corner of the bookshelf. I let out a sigh of relief at the fact nothing was there.

This is stupid. I’m definitely going crazy and imagining things. Did I really think there was something there?

Scoffing, I turned around to walk back to the center of the library, toward the exit, so I could get out of here. Now mother was really going to be pissed at me. I was so late now that I’d never hear the end of it.

BOOM!

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

The unexpected loud noise echoed through the library making me jump nearly out of my own skin. Without pause, my head snapped in the direction it came from, but there was nothing there now besides a large book resting on the floor.

Okay, definitely not crazy after all.

My body was trembling as I ducked underneath the nearest table. Clutching my wand to my chest, I whispered until the light grew brighter again around me. I knew I couldn’t stay here forever; the shadow-thing was coming for me. I had to think, think, think. What do I do? What would my mother do? Suddenly, I had an idea.

I let my trembling fingers reach into my bag and wrap around the familiar leather of my mother’s journal. I ripped it out of my bag without another thought and fingered quickly through the pages until I got to the page I was looking for.

It was a spell she’d learned when she was a junior at the academy, neck-deep into the investigation into dark magic. It wasn’t a spell we were taught here at the academy, and it was simply pure luck that I recalled it now. It was honestly a miracle I’d understood what the spell was the first time I read it; it was a fairly complex spell.

Okay, this is it. This is where you prove yourself, Evie. I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath before whispering the foreign language of the spell. I really hoped this would work, it wasn’t like I’d tried it out before. I was hardly proficient in the ancient language the spell was in, but it was the only thing I could think of

After a few strained moments, I completed the spell. At least, I think I completed it. There was really only one way to find out. I held out my dark hands to examine them. At first, it didn’t look like I’d done anything, but then, a rippling transparent shimmer ran down my arm and out my hand. Crunching my eyebrows, I further investigated the rest of my body and was pleasantly surprised to find that the spell worked. I was invisible!

With triumph, I shoved the journal back into my bag and started stealthily moving under the tables toward the large book on the ground. I tucked a stray red-brown lock of hair behind my ear and wiggled my way out from underneath the tables. Whatever was in here with me wouldn’t be able to see me because of the spell; I was safe for now. Safe enough to investigate, anyway. I still had to come up with a plan to deal with the whatever this was once I found it.

As I approached, I noticed the large book was old and nearly falling apart as it lay on the ground. Its grey, leather-bound spine was barely holding the pages together as they sat flipped open, and its yellowed pages looked bitter. If I touched them, I worried they would crumble away beneath my fingers.

I spent a long minute looking around the area, not leaving a single shadow unnoticed. There was no sign of movement, though I knew the shadow-thing was still here. Confident that I wasn’t going to be ambushed, I took a moment to bend down over the book and examine the contents.

Even though I knew whatever was in here with me wouldn’t be able to see me, or at least I hoped it wasn’t immune to my spell anyway, I was still on edge. Despite this, I was excited to see what clue it left behind. At least, I assume it was a clue. Would it really knock over this kind of book at random? These kinds of books were locked away, not just found on one of the nearby shelves.

The page was opened to a twisted childhood fairytale, though I could hardly make out the words on the page as they were worn with age. I could only tell it was a fairytale based on the wicked image on the left, just visible enough that I was able to tell I’d seen it before.

Growing up, I’d lived on fairytales. Amid the pressure of being the daughter of the High Witch, it was one of my only escapes. It started with my father, who read fairytales to me every night when I was a child. It was how we bonded when he couldn’t relate to me magically, which he rarely could with him being human. It quickly became my favorite part of everyday being able to escape the stress of my real life and disappear in a magical story with my beloved father.

Just before he died from an illness he’d been battling for years—I was 12—he told me that all my favorite childhood fairytales had been based on evil, twisted versions of the same stories. When I asked him why he told me the truth instead of keeping the fairytale alive, he looked at me with more sorrow and determination than I’d ever seen him possess. What he told me then still haunted me, nearly ten years later.

“Because you’ll soon realize what being able to use magic really means, Evie. What having power means. There are always two sides to the world you and your mother live in—two sides to every person. One is greatness, light, and beauty. The other is evil and darkness. Only you can decide which path you are going to take—which you to feed. You must know both sides if you are to choose”.

Tears threatened to break the service as I remembered his words. I let my finger trail down the image in the book. After father died, I’d been obsessed with finding and reading the twisted versions of the fairytales my father had read me. They were comforting at the time, having felt lost with grief. For moons, they felt like the only way to keep ahold of the connection we’d shared; like I’d tethered myself to his soul for just a little while longer. I tried hard now to remember what story I’d seen this picture in—I know I’d seen it before.

The image, a fading shape wreathed in darkness, almost reminded me of the monster that was prowling in the library with me now. Memories displayed in my mind of the stories I’d read; brief flashes coming and going so fast I could barely catch the details.

I paused. That couldn’t be it, could it? It was so obvious it was like a slap in the face. There was no way, right?

There was one tale front and center in my mind. Less of a fairytale and more of a legend—a frightening story told to children to scare them into being good little boys and girls. There was a monster of the night that preyed upon the dream essence of anyone unlucky enough to cross their path. They were known to make their victims feel uncontrollable dread, fear, or uneasiness right before they attacked. Sometimes even, they could cause extreme hallucinations. What was it called, again? Oh yes, an Umbrath.

If what I was thinking was true, that would mean this story wasn’t a legend after all. Though, if there was one thing I’d learned since growing up, it was that what I’d always thought were gruesome fairytales, were actually the things lurking in the dark.

The shadows. The indiscernible black figure moving around. The eerie feeling of being watched, being pulled toward the darkness. There was really no other option, no other creature that fit the description. Despite the obvious connection, my brain was still having a hard time processing. The real question was—why had it left this for me to find?

Thankful now that I’d used the invisibility spell to conceal myself, I looked around for the demon. My brain was analyzing the situation in a different way, retracing all the steps I’d taken already. I’d been lucky it hadn’t gotten me yet; it had come so close so many times already. A shiver ran down my spine as a new question arose.

If this was an Umbrath, then who had summoned it?

I searched my brain, trying to remember anything else from the tale. Any weaknesses, any clues on how to defeat it. No matter how talented I was with spells, it wouldn’t matter in the end if I didn’t know exactly what spell to use. Demons were notoriously hard to kill, even for skilled witches.

Now that I was invisible, I couldn’t use magic to provide light in the dark library or it would give me away. Instead, I did my best to use the light from the windows to find my way around.

There! Movement flashed in the corner of my eyes near the bookcase to my left. I whipped around, trying to see it as it moved in the shadows. I scrunched up my eyebrows in concentration as ideas flowed in and out of my head. I chased the shadow demon through the library.

I was almost certain I’d lost him, so I stopped at the edge of a row of bookshelves in the back of the library. Catching my breath, I wished I could cast more light, hoping it would help as I started to search for the demon again. Renewing my resolve, I was just starting to turn around the corner again when I felt a sudden jerk in my stomach, as if somebody had a rope tied around my waist and was pulling me toward them.

In the heat of a moment, I made the decision to use a light spell and drop the invisibility spell. It had clearly found me anyway, and light would be more useful right now. I looked around, waving my wand in an arc of bright light. Next to me, a dark figure that I could now more clearly make out as a black-shimmering silhouette screeched as I turned toward it. It burned when the light hit it, causing the shape to wither and move backward with force, depserately trying to get out of the path of light. I felt a crooked smile grow on my lips. So that’s what does it, then. Light!

With a smirk, I breathed the only spell I could think of that would work—it was a spell that most witches could never do, and one that I was very glad I could.

With the last words of the incantation, the wand in my hand began to glow, expanding in a bright arc until it formed a shimmering blade. The hilt was the same material my wand had been—a hard-white iron-like material called Luminite. The blade, however, was made of pure bright flame. It flashed out of the hilt in a column of blue light called Soul-fire. I watched it as the blue flames licked together at the end; I couldn’t help but be in awe.

Soul-fire was a rare, powerful substance of light and fire. Most witches were never powerful or skilled enough to forge or summon it. I’d been taught to believe that only those witches with a special, rare connection to their magic and how it interacted with their soul could forge soul-fire. Only those with the purest souls; the ones with the best intentions could ever develop such a connection with their very soul.

I held the sword up now, and instantly saw the Umbrath leap out of the way, melting back into the shadows. I followed it, desperately chasing it around the library. Every time I swiped at it with the soul-fire sword, it danced just out of reach. If I hadn’t known better, I’d think it was mocking me as we entered in this cat and mouse game.

Eventually, I cornered it against the windows on the south wall of the library. Moonlight was streaming in now; the sun had vanished long ago. It had nowhere else to go, and I held the sword up to it with a bitter laugh. Though it didn’t have discernable eyes or features, it felt as though it was staring at me with a mischievous smile. A shiver ran down my spine as I stared back at it. The Umbrath, a black, human-like figure made of shadows, was a lot creepier looking now that I could see it closely.

“Who is your master” I asked fiercely, stepping closer and letting the soul-fire edged blade creep nearer to the Umbrath. The demon hissed as the flames of the soul-fire licked at it, but it made no other attempt to answer. I wanted to know who had summoned this creature here to our school.

“I said, who is your master?” My voice boomed louder, tinged with the anger I felt. Whoever had summoned this demon had done so with the intention of stealing the dream essence of the young witches at this school. My dream essence. Was this even a targeted attack, or just random? What if I had been a lower classman who wasn’t trained yet to defend herself? What if it had been someone who couldn’t forge soul-fire? The Umbrath could have killed someone!

The demon continued what I assumed was staring at me. It even cocked its head, as if analyzing my words and actions. Then, impossible without a mouth I would’ve thought, it laughed. The laugh was a screech that sent a chill down my spine; high-pitched and scratchy. It was akin to nails on a chalkboard. It took everything in me not to reflexively cover my ears as a shiver went down my spine, but there was no way I was going to turn my weapon from the demon now. It continued laughing, making me grit my teeth in anger.

I held the sword out closer to the Umbrath, and the creature finally stopped laughing. It was clear it was not going to give up its master though, so I debated briefly if I should just kill it and be done with it. As I made up my mind and focused on the Umbrath, it began to laugh again with that horrible laugh. This time, though, the shadowy figure was fading, growing more and more translucent right before my eyes.

Startled, I held up the sword, ready to strike it down before it could disappear, but I was too late when I came down on the swing. The sword met nothing but air as the last of the Umbrath disappeared.

Alone in the library, breathing heavily, I looked out the window and into the now dark sky.

Where did it go?

***

I was paying only half attention, lost in thought, as I raced through the halls of the school. Mother would be absolutely pissed at my tardiness for dinner, but I hoped she’d understand. Though, she’ll probably be pissed again when she found out the Umbrath got away. How could I let it get away? Reckless. Stupid.

I nearly ran into the wall as my mind replayed the memory of trapping the Umbrath; how it got away. Why had it even been there in the first place? Umbrath’s were only useful to harness the dream essence of living things, which wasn’t used for anything good. Not to mention, it’s not like they naturally existed in the living world.

No, the only reason an Umbrath would be here was because of dark magic.

What would mother say? Would she blame me for letting it get away? I panicked as I slowed to a stop in front of her door. I could see a sliver of warm light from under her door and her soft mutters echoed into the hallway, only a whisper. It didn’t matter what I felt though, she needed to know. She was the High Witch and would need to deal with the witch behind this.

I took a deep breath before knocking on the door. “Mother?” I called softly, putting my ear to the old dark wood. I heard her grunt a “come-in”.

I paused, before taking a deep breath. Dark magic. This was crazy. Would she even believe me? No one had used dark magic since she’d put a stop to it over two hundred years ago. I shook my head. She’d have to believe me; there was no other explanation. I reached a shaky hand toward the doorknob.

Everything was about to change, and I didn’t even know the half of it.