We picked up the pace, navigating through the maze of destroyed shelves and scattered tomes. The oppressive atmosphere weighed heavily, but Malice's snarky commentary kept the encroaching dread at bay.

"You think whoever—or whatever—did this is still around?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder.

[Let's hope not. I'm not in the mood for redoing those two floors again..]

"Funny how you suddenly care about planning ahead," I shot back.

[Hey, even trolls know when to pick their fights.]

We finally emerged into a less decimated section of the library. The eerie silence was replaced by the faint hum of flickering torchlights. I allowed myself a moment to breathe.

"So what's our next move?" I asked.

[First, we cash in that feather. Then, maybe we find a less crispy area to explore. Preferably one where we won't get roasted.]

"Sounds like a plan," I agreed. "And Malice... thanks."

[Whoa, did you just thank me? Must be the ash messing with your head.]

"Don't get used to it," I smirked.

[Oh, trust me, I won't. Now let's get moving before you start writing me into your will.]

Shaking my head, I followed as Malice's flickering light bobbed ahead of me, casting shifting shadows along the towering bookshelves. Despite his relentless sarcasm and the ever-present edge of mockery in his tone, I couldn't deny the odd comfort I found in his company. In a place like this—where everything felt poised to break me down—his irreverence was like a lifeline. If I was going to unravel, at least I wouldn’t be alone.

As we moved deeper into the library, the atmosphere thickened. The further we went, the more the air pressed against my skin like damp cloth, smothering and heavy. Shelves, once crammed with dusty tomes, now stood bare and skeletal, their emptiness gnawing at my thoughts. It was as though something—or someone—had stripped this place clean, recently too. There wasn’t even a trace of dust. The shelves weren’t abandoned relics; they were freshly looted ruins. Each step echoed too loudly in the oppressive silence, making my unease grow with every footfall.

Was I walking into a trap? Had I miscalculated? I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to banish the rising sense of dread. Don't lose focus, Jamie. But a part of me wondered if I'd already sealed my fate with that trade, if maybe I'd burned away my only way out of this twisted maze.

And then, just as the scorch marks and evidence of chaos faded behind us, we stepped into something... different. The contrast was startling, like crossing into another realm. Gone were the signs of destruction and neglect, replaced by shelves that stood pristine and untouched. The wood gleamed under the soft glow of magical light, the rows of books tidy, deliberate. While it wasn’t the sprawling sea of tomes from earlier, the books here shimmered like treasures, each spine polished and aglow, as if they held secrets too precious for ordinary hands.

I approached one shelf, drawn to a particularly bright volume. The book seemed to call to me, the cover practically humming under my fingertips. I reached out, fingers grazing the leather binding. What was it about this one? Why did it feel different? My heart quickened, curiosity and caution warring inside me. Maybe this was the key—maybe this book held the knowledge I needed to move forward.

I was about to pull it free when a sharp voice pierced the stillness.

“Wait! Don’t open that book!”

The words echoed through the library like the crack of a whip, slicing through the eerie calm. My hand froze in midair, heart slamming against my ribs. Slowly, I turned toward the source of the voice.

A girl stood there, her silhouette framed by the dim light. She looked no older than me, perhaps in her late teens. Her black hair, wild and untamed, seemed to float around her head, haloed by an unseen breeze that tugged at the strands. There was something ethereal about her presence, her pale skin almost glowing in contrast to the darkness around us. Her eyes—dark and intense—were locked onto mine, wide with urgency, her breath coming in short bursts as if she’d run all the way here.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

"Why?" I found myself asking, my voice barely above a whisper, almost swallowed by the oppressive silence of the library. My hand hovered over the book, its warmth seeping into my skin, tugging at me to ignore her warning. The pull was stronger now, almost like it was alive, breathing beneath my touch.

For a moment, Blake just stared at me, her breath coming in quick, uneven bursts. Her eyes flickered between the book and my hand, widening with each passing second. She stepped forward, her boots making no sound against the stone floor. "That book," she said, her voice softer now, trembling, "you can’t open it. It’s not what you think it is."

I glanced down at the glowing volume, its leather cover now burning against my fingertips—not painfully, but in a way that promised something. Answers, maybe? Power? Or perhaps something far worse. But why should I trust her?

"What do you mean?" I demanded, my voice growing more forceful, fueled by the tension gnawing at me. "And why should I listen to you? I don't even know your name." My eyes flickered between her and the book, the weight of the choice pressing down on me. This could be my way out. But what if it wasn't?

Blake moved closer, her eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made me hesitate. "My name is Blake," she said quietly, like the name itself carried some unspoken burden. "And the reason you should listen to me is because…" Her breath hitched. "Because my boyfriend is trapped inside." The words came out as barely a whisper, but the raw fear behind them was unmistakable.

I froze, feeling the book throb beneath my hand like it had a heartbeat of its own. "Trapped?" I repeated, skeptical. "How is that even possible?"

Blake’s jaw tightened, her hands clenched at her sides. "I don’t know how it happened. I don’t know what that book really is. But if you open it while he’s still alive—" her voice cracked, "—you could trap him in there forever. Or worse."

Her desperation was palpable, but so was my frustration. "So what, I'm just supposed to walk away? I need answers, and this book—this could be the key to everything."

Blake’s eyes flashed with anger. "Answers?" she spat. "You think that book cares about giving you answers? You think it’s on your side?" She pointed to the glowing volume, her finger trembling. "It’s a prison. You don’t know what you’re messing with."

I scoffed, though a part of me wavered. "How do you know? Maybe it’s your fear talking. Maybe it’s something else." My hand twitched toward the book, the warmth now a steady pulse. "Malice hasn’t said anything to stop me. And he usually does when it’s something dangerous."

Blake’s face twisted in frustration. "Then where is he, huh? Why isn’t he warning you?" She stepped closer, her voice lowering, almost pleading. "Look, I don’t know what Malice is, but I do know that once you cross into that book, you might not come back. My boyfriend didn’t."

I took a breath, trying to steady the rising storm of thoughts in my head. "I don’t have a choice, Blake. You might have lost someone, but I’m losing time. I have to know what’s inside."

She grabbed my arm, hard. "Don’t you think I’ve already made this mistake?" she hissed. "I touched that book once. That’s how he got trapped. Don’t be as stupid as I was." Her grip tightened, her eyes wild with urgency. "Please. You can’t open it."

I shook her off, though her words clung to me, planting seeds of doubt. Still, the pull of the book was stronger, more insistent. "I can’t just leave this alone."

"And I can't let you do this!" Blake stepped between me and the book now, her eyes blazing. "I won’t let you get trapped too. I can't go through that again."

We stood there, locked in a silent standoff. The air between us was thick with tension, both of us waiting for the other to yield. I could feel the weight of her words, the fear laced with something deeper—regret, maybe? But that didn’t change the fact that I needed to know. The book was calling to me, and I wasn’t sure I could ignore it any longer.

"I’m sorry," I said softly, my voice barely audible. "But I have to do this."

Blake's face fell, her hands trembling as she took a step back. "You don’t know what you’re doing…" Her voice cracked, the fight leaving her.

My fingers hovered over the cover, and for a moment, I hesitated. Malice was still silent, and that only made my unease grow. He never stayed quiet when things mattered—was he waiting for me to decide? Did he know something I didn’t? The book pulsed again beneath my hand, its warmth crawling up my arm, whispering promises of power, of escape.

I went to open the book.

Blake’s voice cut through the silence. “Hey! What are you doing?!” But it was too late.

The moment I cracked open the book, it felt like the ground beneath me gave way. A whirlwind of light and darkness swallowed me, the library vanishing in a blink. Blake lunged at me, but she was too slow—I was already being pulled in. Yet, as the world twisted around me, I felt her hand brush mine, and suddenly, she was pulled in too.

The last thing I heard was her scream, echoing in the void between worlds.