"Malice," I whispered, keeping my voice low. "What's the deal with these tickets? You waited until now to tell me they're basically extra lives?"

[Bingo! The noob finally gets it,] Malice's voice carried an almost mocking tone. [These worlds are hazardous. You screw up, you die. The ticket yanks you back, gives you another shot.] His light flickered beside me. [But without a ticket? You die for real. And—poof—back to square one.]

A knot formed in my stomach. The first floor. I couldn't go back. Not after everything I'd fought through to get this far. "So if I use one, I don't respawn in the world?"

[Exactly. No checkpoints, no save files. You get reset to the starting zone. And trust me,] his voice lowered conspiratorially, [the first floor is a bigger grindfest than a free-to-play MMO.]

I gritted my teeth, scanning the endless rows of bookshelves. The idea of starting over made my whole body feel heavy. "You could've told me this before I started collecting all these books."

[Would you have listened?] Malice's voice slipped into something more sardonic. [And besides, we weren't ready for it yet. There are rules here, you know. This library isn't some open-world sandbox. It's governed, sectioned off. And the overlords of this part? Yeah, they're not NPCs you want to mess with lightly.]

"Rulers?" I repeated, my voice barely a whisper.

[The Librarians,] Malice said, his tone growing even quieter. [Think of them as the final raid bosses who maintain order here. Guardians, if you will. And they enforce their laws... severely.]

"What kind of laws? No loud noises? No chewing gum?" I tried for humor, but my heart wasn't in it.

[Respect,] he said, serious now. [You need their permission to fast-travel between worlds. And if you die without a ticket, you lose more than just the book you entered through.]

I shivered. Malice wasn't joking. The finality in his voice made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I couldn't afford to die here. I couldn't go back.

The air grew colder as we approached the Librarians' domain. The flickering light above became erratic, casting the towering shelves in deep, shifting shadows. The mismatched books and sprawling chaos gave way to a grand archway. Beyond it, the rows of books stood in perfect symmetry, every inch of the space meticulously ordered under the sterile, cold light.

Crossing the threshold felt like stepping into another world entirely. My skin prickled, and the air itself seemed heavier, pressing down on my chest. It was the kind of stillness that made me feel like something was waiting for me to slip up. I didn't just sense it—I could feel them, an overwhelming presence watching, waiting.

Then they appeared.

Tall, gaunt figures, their faces hidden beneath black hoods, glided silently from the shadows. They didn't walk; they moved as if gravity had no hold on them, their movements unnaturally fluid. The soft rustle of pages sounded faintly, but none of the Flameeaters were holding books. It was as if the very walls whispered secrets, pages turning in the air itself, waiting to be consumed.

I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening. Real people—not dead, not armed to the teeth, not actively trying to kill me. It was... almost refreshing. Still, the weight of the Flameeaters' presence felt like it was squeezing the air from my lungs. Each silent figure was a statue of dread, and I couldn't help but feel as if they knew something I didn't. Something dangerous.

One of them broke away from the others, gliding forward. The closer it came, the thicker the air became, suffocating, like trying to breathe through mud. I struggled to keep my breath even, a sudden wave of dizziness threatening to topple me.

"Welcome," it said, the word stretching, the voice cold and smooth like glass—fragile and sharp. The sound reverberated faintly, as if it had traveled from some distant place, though the figure stood mere feet from me. "What are you willing to offer for your passage between worlds?"

I froze. My throat went dry. What was I willing to offer? My mind raced, but it came up blank. Wasn't survival enough of a price?

I glanced toward Malice, hoping for some sort of lifeline, a hint or a sign. Nothing. He hovered there, his light dimmed, infuriatingly silent. Why wasn't he saying anything? My stomach churned, unease crawling up my spine.

The silence stretched unbearably thin, every second drawn out like a slow twist of a knife.

"What... what do you want?" I stammered, the words weaker than I intended. My voice cracked. There was no power in it, just fear.

The Flameeater tilted its head, slow and deliberate. The motion sent a shiver racing across my skin. Its unseen gaze felt heavy, like it was peeling back layers of me, examining every part—judging. The air pulsed with an unseen power, thick and electric, making my skin crawl with prickling unease.

"That," the Flameeater said softly, its voice barely above a whisper, "is up to you."

My heart hammered in my chest. I tried to stay calm, to think. I had to offer something, but what? My mind jumped from one thought to another, panicking. What if I gave too much? What if I gave too little? What would they take from me?

Malice remained infuriatingly silent, his light flickering ever so slightly. Was he afraid? No—Malice didn't get afraid. But why wasn't he helping me? Was I missing something?

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Come on, Jamie, I thought, trying to steady myself. Get it together. You've faced worse than this. But my chest still felt tight, and my palms were sweating.

I took a deep breath. I needed resources to clear this floor. I needed something to move forward, to survive. And if I didn't play this right, I might lose everything. A reckless idea formed in my head—risky, but I didn't have much choice.

I straightened my back, summoning the courage I barely felt, and spoke before the fear could choke me again.

"I'll trade," I said, voice firmer now. "My entire collection of books—for half their number in golden pages. And again that many tickets."

This was a business transaction, nothing more. I steeled myself, forcing my emotions aside. The Flameeaters didn't care about sentimentality. Neither should I.

With a quiet gesture, my entire collection of books appeared in front of me, neatly stacked. Hundreds of spines, titles, and covers, all that I had gathered through countless battles and worlds. Knowledge that had shaped me, saved me. Now, it was just currency.

The Flameeater hovered in front of me, motionless. The air around it crackled, charged with silent expectation. I refused to let my hesitation show, keeping my gaze fixed on the shadowy figure as if it didn't unnerve me.

"This will suffice," I said, my voice steady, though my heart drummed relentlessly in my chest. I had to make them believe that this didn't matter—that these were just books.

The Flameeater's head tilted, an almost imperceptible nod. "A bold trade," it said, its voice like ice scraping over glass. "But boldness can lead one astray."

My fingers twitched. The weight of its words pressed on my mind, but I couldn't afford to back down. This was the deal, and I needed what they offered more than I needed the books.

"I've made my choice," I said firmly. The words sounded more confident than I felt. Inside, a storm raged—was this a mistake? But it was too late to doubt myself now. Survival demanded sacrifices, and this was mine.

For the first time, Malice spoke, his voice a quiet blade cutting through the tension. [Are you sure about this?] he asked, his words laced with something akin to disapproval.

I glanced at him, startled by the coldness in his tone. Malice didn't care about much, but the weight of his question made me pause. Was I missing something? I shook the thought away. No time for second-guessing.

"I'm sure," I said, though my throat felt tight. I could almost sense the disapproval rolling off him.

Malice gave me a hard look, his light dimming slightly. [Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you when this comes back to bite you.]

Consequences. I shoved that thought aside, not wanting to linger on it. I had no other choice.

The Flameeater's cold voice interrupted the exchange, as though it had been watching my internal struggle with amusement. "Very well," it said, gliding closer. "Your offer is accepted."

Before I could react, the stack of books—my life's work—erupted into flames. Orange and red flickered violently, devouring the pages in an instant. The heat pressed against my skin, but I didn't flinch. I stood there, watching the fire consume them, feeling an emptiness where they had been. It should have hurt more, but I'd braced myself for it. This was survival. And yet, the image of those flames, of the crackling destruction, stayed with me, clawing at my chest.

When the last book had been reduced to ash, the Flameeater raised its hand. A soft hiss filled the air, and golden pages materialized in front of me—bright, shimmering like captured sunlight. Fifty tickets floated alongside them.

Relief and unease battled within me. It had worked. The books were gone, but the deal was done.

But as I reached out to take the pages, the Flameeater's voice coiled around me like a snake, chilling and unforgiving. "Beware," it whispered, the words twisting through my mind. "Knowledge is never truly discarded. Its weight follows you, no matter how much you burn."

I froze, my fingers inches from the golden pages. For a moment, I felt the weight of what I had given up—not just books, but memories, insights, pieces of myself. The fire hadn't erased them; it had merely hidden them beneath the ash.

I shook the feeling off. There was no turning back now. With a steady hand, I gathered the golden pages and tickets, shoving the Flameeater's warning deep down, where I wouldn't have to deal with it.

For now, I had what I needed.

An hour later, Malice had me navigate to yet another abandoned area full of books. It looked like it had been burned down during a battle, which was clear from the giant owl corpse sprawled on the floor.

[Well, would you look at that!] Malice exclaimed, his tone a mix of surprise and amusement. [Someone actually took down 'He Who Knows Ten Thousand Things.' Guess even the almighty can get nerfed.]

I stared at the massive creature. "Who—or what—could have done this?"

[Probably some over-leveled player flexing their DPS,] he snickered. [Or maybe the Librarians decided to patch out his infinite wisdom exploit.]

"This isn't funny, Malice. This place looks like a war zone." I gestured to the smoldering ruins around us.

[Oh, lighten up. One owl's trash is another player's treasure. Think of the loot!]

I sighed, kneeling beside the colossal owl. Despite my reservations, Malice had a point—we needed resources.

"Fine. What exactly are we looking for?"

[Now you're speaking my language!] His light flickered excitedly. [See if you can find any Wisdom Feathers or perhaps the Owl's Eye. Both are rare drops that'll give us a serious edge.]

As I cautiously searched the fallen creature, the weight of our earlier exchange lingered in my mind. "You know, earlier you seemed... different. Almost concerned."

[Ugh, don't go getting all touchy-feely on me,] he groaned. [I have a reputation to maintain. Can't have you thinking I've gone soft.]

"Right," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Wouldn't want that."

As I touched the owl, its corpse dissapeared. It didn’t really make sense to me that the corpse was still there, nor that I could loot it, but I wasn’t going to look a gift owl in the mouth.

[Bingo!] Malice exclaimed. [A Wisdom Feather! With that, we can get some nifty rewards, or you can turn it in for Malice Points.]

Pocketing the feather, I stood up. "Let's grab what we can and get out of here. This place gives me the creeps."

[Agreed. The last thing we need is the Librarians catching us looting their backyard. They're real sticklers for the 'no trespassing' thing.]

As we turned to leave, a distant echo resonated through the burnt corridors—a haunting hoot that sent a chill down my spine.

"Did you hear that?" I whispered.

[Yeah, and unless you fancy becoming Fox chow, I'd suggest we GTFO.] I starred incredulously.

“What does that mean?”

[Run!]