The chain wound around my waist uncoiled and returned to its owner, who was staring at where the door used to be.

“That’s never happened before…” she whispered. “Years of entering through this door and I’ve never seen it take as long as it did for you.”

Oopsy.

I canceled the incantation. “Well, we’re good now, right? Can we enter?”

Astra shook her head and inspected the doorway before stepping through and into the restricted archive. Unlike the one that Astra called home, it was dark, gloomy, and filled with stuff locked behind glass cases.

The place was bigger. Some pedestals were spaced more than six feet apart, with a lone torch placed along the base. The myriad of books lining the walls had entire shelves separating one book from another.

It looked a lot less magical than I thought it'd be.

“Are there traps in here?” Alice asked, stepping through and surveying the room.

“Yes. Don’t touch the walls.”

I circled around one pedestal displaying a glass slipper of all things. “And if we do?”

“Some things are worse than death,” she said.

I backed away from the display and followed Astra. The books were varied, some out of leather and thick, others thin and more journal like. Occasionally, we’d pass by a bunch of scrolls tied together, but there were more tomes than rolls of parchment.

When she stopped, she took a sharp left and walked between two display cases, each one with a set of books underneath the glass. As I got closer I stopped, recognizing the books in the left case.

“That’s the journals from the underground lab.”

Astra looked back and nodded. “It is. They are just barely considered dangerous. The books themselves aren’t dangerous, but the sacrifice rituals are. It goes into too much detail to leave out in the open.”

Alice tapped my arm and I moved on. More small trinkets were locked away than anything else, but there were entire cases filled with weapons. It rivaled a mini armory.

“This place is more than just a forbidden knowledge area, right? Do we know the history of everything that’s in here?”

“No,” Astra sighed. “More than a few have barely a snippet of information logged on an old inventory journal. Many of the books you see in here were from centuries ago, locked away by Grimms who left no information other than their names.”

“They look surprisingly well for things centuries old. Are there enchantments keeping them intact?”

“More than a few. It helps that they are rarely touched. Just don’t touch anything without my permission. Even with your new levels, the curses on the items would overpower even Devon.”

I cleared my throat and kept my hands to myself. The items were interesting but not worth getting cursed over.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Eventually, we stopped at a section of books resting on a metal bookshelf. The books behind the glass were barebones, dark brown and without cover art. They looked worn, with more than a few sporting stained leather with miscolored splotches.

Astra placed her hand along the glass and a single rune appeared that twisted in on itself. As she pulled her hand back, the case opened and she grabbed three books from the middle.

The case closed itself and the same twisted rune lit up before returning to its initial appearance.

“What runs these enchantments?” Alice asked.

Astra pointed to the floor and then the ceiling. “There’s mana crystals inside the stone. Don’t ask how it works. I’ve tried for years to figure it out.”

We followed her to a remote corner, one of the few places that had a table. There weren’t chairs, but it was better than nothing.

She placed the journals in the center and spread them out so they weren’t touching. “Go ahead and try to read. All I see are gibberish.”

Alice went first, grabbing the left journal. It was bound in grey leather with sharp red thread holding it together. She flipped through a couple of pages before placing it down and grabbing the second. The process repeated till she backed away, shaking her head.

“I can’t read them,” she said.

I frowned and grabbed the middle journal. As I opened the first page there was a tightening of my cloak around my satchel. Slowly, I reached behind me and felt a tingle of energy that grazed my fingers.

When I unbound the latch to the satchel, the tingle morphed into sharp needle pricks that raced up my arm.

“Feel that?” I asked.

The women shook their heads.

Okay, Devon. What did you hide in here?

I reached into the satchel and felt around, grabbing onto the slip of paper as soon as the sensation became sharp cuts across my palm.

The numbers on the scrap paper glowed bright silver. I turned the page and was tugged forward. I blinked and allowed it some slack as it dragged my hand closer to the journal.

“I didn’t detect any enchantments… How did he manage to hide it in the ink?” Astra muttered.

“Should I?”

“Go ahead.”

It tugged once more and I touched the journal with the page. The needle-like feeling stopped and the silver ink melted into a puddle that dripped onto the book. The pages drank the ink and the puddle split into two, shooting into the air and landing onto the other journals.

The page burned in my hand, becoming black ash that spilled onto the table.

I flipped open the closest journal.

“Today is the day I hunt my first dracken,” I read aloud. The words were legible, written in surprisingly neat handwriting. “She is crazy. She want’s me to hunt ahead and alone.”

I read through a few more lines, noting the lack of dates. There was no set calendar format, but he would write the time of day when he started writing. That meant some places were a single line that was broken up by a ‘Nightime’ or ‘Noon’ before it continued.

While I read through the entries, Alice picked up the first book and started skimming through. Astra did the same with the last book and we all read in silence for some time.

But I eventually came across an entry that was different from the others. It was a short box of words, marred by a dark brown stain near the top. I checked, flipping the pages over, but the stain hadn’t bled through.

Nighttime

Five days into the hunt. This is the seventh attempt. I’m no longer allowed to hunt alone. The witch still stalks the woods, hidden behind her mirrors. Vi won’t give up, even after I tell her to rest. She says she can’t, not until the witch is dead. Her eyes stay shifted all the time; they havent reverted in weeks. She’s weakening. Too exhausted, not enough sleep. But this is the final night. I have a plan.

Tonight I hunt the witch. Tonight the witch will die.

I set the book down and scanned the next page, but it was blank.

“Astra?” I asked.

“Yes?” she answered without looking away from the journal.

“What was the name of Devon’s mentor?”

She paused and set the book down. “Vivian. Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.”

“Well, if you spot something, tell me. So far it’s a lot of entries talking about his early days as a pup. It’s rather surprising seeing this softer side of him.”

I snorted at the concept and turned to the page. The blood stain was concerning, but nothing stood out.

If only there was something obv-

“Cain,” Alice interrupted. “Look at this.”