A shrill, piercing noise erupted from the walls, sharp as a blade. The sudden wail sent me reeling, my hands clamping over my ears to muffle the sound. Pain shot through my skull, and a strange sense of déjà vu washed over me — as if I had been here before, in this exact moment, drowning in the same agonizing noise.

Blake shot to her feet, her expression hardening in an instant. For the first time since we’d met, there was no humor in her eyes — only urgency. William burst from his office, his face a mask of concern, his gaze sweeping over us. He didn’t say a word before sprinting down the hallway, disappearing into the chaos that had suddenly enveloped us.

“We need to move!” Blake’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. “It’s a raid. The Fireeaters — now that they’ve destroyed the Forbidden Library, there’s a chance they’ll come after the Great Library next.”

Fireeaters? My mind raced as I scrambled to my feet. The name stirred something in me, an old warning buried deep in the fog of my memories. What are we supposed to do? I thought, panic rising. But my mouth moved on its own. “What are we supposed to do?” I echoed, my voice shaky as I tried to keep up with her.

Blake didn’t miss a beat. “You’ll join the healers,” she said, her words clipped as we ran down the hallway, the air thick with urgency. Doors and empty rooms blurred past us. “I’ll head to the stacks and help defend the library. We can’t let them set it on fire.”

“Which way is that?” I asked, feeling lost, my mind still spinning from the sudden shift.

Blake shook her head, never slowing down. “Go back through the door we came in. The cafeteria’s the secret gathering place for the healers. It’s the only space big enough to treat the wounded.”

I nodded, even as fear tightened in my chest. This isn’t just about clearing floors anymore, I realized, the weight of the situation crashing down on me. The Fireeaters have already destroyed one library. Now it’s up to us to stop them from burning down another.

As Blake sped ahead, I felt the weight of uncertainty settle on my shoulders. I had no idea what I was doing — only that if I failed, it wouldn’t just be a setback. It would be the end of everything.

I sighed as we sat at the metal tables in the dreary cafeteria, poking at the grayish blob they generously called "food." Apparently, threatening the head of an entire organization didn’t get you better-quality meals—not that I was surprised. Still, I couldn’t stop the disappointment from settling in. Blake, on the other hand, smiled like we were eating a five-star dinner, her energy as bright as ever.

“I’ve never seen anything cooler. I’m so glad I met you.” She twirled a lock of blonde hair around her finger, her other hand delicately lifting a spoon to her lips. When she swallowed, her eyes fluttered closed, the kind of contentment people get only from food—or maybe from being blissfully unaware of the chaos around them. A shiver ran through me, uncomfortable but not unpleasant.

I didn’t know what to make of her.

Blake was… Blake. Effortlessly confident, always smiling, always seeing the best in every situation. But there was more to it, wasn't there? Beneath the surface, I felt something—a pull, maybe? Or maybe just confusion. I glanced at her, taking in the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes now, as if she were expecting something. And suddenly, the slop on my plate didn’t look so bad. I focused on it, trying to swallow down more than just food.

I needed to make up my mind about her.

But instead of giving myself time to think, I blurted, “We need to talk.”

Her expression didn’t falter for even a second. She narrowed her blue eyes in mock suspicion before her smile returned, as if this conversation was all part of a script she knew by heart.

“It’s not me, it’s you. You’re a gorgeous guy, but I’m too much for you, right?” She rolled her eyes playfully, her voice dripping with drama. “You can’t handle me *and* this dungeon. I’ve heard it all before. Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me we should stay friends, and then after this floor is done, we’ll drift apart.” She sighed, dramatically tossing her hair over her shoulder like she was acting in some tragic romance.

The words hit like a hammer to my chest.

“Hey, wait, you didn’t even let me speak!” I stammered, my throat tight. How did she already know what I was going to say? Had I been that obvious?

Her gaze softened, but it only made the knot in my stomach worse. Blake was more perceptive than she let on, and part of me hated that I was predictable. But the truth was, I didn’t even know what I felt—about her, about Jamie, about anything. I had been running from it for too long, burying myself in whatever was happening in the dungeon, ignoring the swirling mess inside me. And now? Now I had to face it.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I—” The words felt heavy on my tongue. My hands clenched, and I forced myself to breathe. Just say it. “All I want is an agreement that we don’t… take things further yet.”

Her face was unreadable, but I pressed on, even though every word felt like ripping open an old wound. “I need time to figure things out. I’m still…” I hesitated, feeling a strange, cold wave pass through me, but it was too late to stop now. “I’m still in love with Jamie.”

It was the first time I had said it out loud. The second the words left my mouth, I felt exposed, like I had torn away a part of myself.

I averted my eyes again, focusing on the chipped edge of my tray. It was easier than seeing her react, seeing the shift in her expression. I couldn't let her see how vulnerable I felt right now—how raw this conversation was making me.”

“You've already said that,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady.

I blinked, taken aback. “I did?”

“You told me before we encountered the Protector. I already know you’re taken, and I meant what I said then. I’m just after a little fun. I don’t need the complications of a relationship.” She spoke so casually, like this was just some light conversation about the weather.

“I know,” I sighed, my frustration building, “but what we have isn’t even a relationship. It’s barely a thing. We kissed a few times in the heat of the moment. That’s it. No need to freak out on me.”

Why was this so hard to explain? Blake was impossible sometimes—light and breezy about everything while I was here trying to navigate the emotional minefield. She was like a whirlwind, unpredictable, and maddening to deal with.

“I don’t want this,” I muttered, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. I needed to make myself clear. “I don’t want to kiss you or do anything romantic. I mean it.”

Her response was immediate—an exaggerated eye roll that made my blood simmer. Then, with the kind of ease that only Blake could pull off, she gently slapped me on the side of the face, her touch more playful than angry, and stood up from the table.

“We’re wasting booklight,” she declared, brushing off my words like they were nothing. “It’s time to get your second page. And since we still have all 500 books to go through, it shouldn’t be too hard to find something we want to peruse.”

Before I could say anything, she was already walking away, not giving me a chance to argue or even process the whirlwind of emotions she had left me tangled in. I was still stuck on the sting of her touch—on how frustrating it was that she could be so dismissive about something that felt huge to me.

I slammed my tray down and chased after her, my footsteps echoing through the winding hallways as I tried to keep up. She didn’t look back, not once, as if she already knew I’d follow. I hated that she was always one step ahead, always pulling me into her orbit, whether I liked it or not.

By the time I reached the launching room, my breath was short, and my frustration had only grown. Blake, however, was already sitting comfortably, a neat stack of ten books piled beside her. She was flipping through one casually, completely at ease, like nothing had even happened.

And there, on top of the stack, was a category of books she hadn’t shown me the last time we did this. Something new. Something different.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to shake off the lingering tension between us. “What’s this?” I asked, my voice more clipped than I intended.

She didn’t even look up. “New section. Thought we’d have some fun with it.”

Fun. Right. That’s all this ever was to her. All it ever would be.

I stared at the books, but my mind was somewhere else. This wasn’t just about the pages or the dungeon or even the stupid books. It was about us—and how I couldn’t quite figure out where we stood.

Or if I even wanted to.

"Here, take this book," she said, thrusting a worn, leather-bound volume into my hands. The leather felt rough and warm against my skin, and the scent of aged paper and faint spices wafted up, tickling my nose. The cover was etched with intricate patterns that seemed to shimmer under the dim light, as if alive with some latent energy. What secrets do you hold? She then tucked the remaining books into her inventory, all except for a single white tome she held loosely at her side. "Good luck."

Blake leaned forward slightly, her eyes searching mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. Is she going to kiss me? For a moment, it seemed like she might; her lips parted ever so slightly, and I could feel the warmth radiating from her. But she halted halfway, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face before she averted her gaze. "Sorry," she murmured, a faint blush tinting her cheeks. The subtle scent of apples emanated from her, enveloping me in a confusing mix of emotions.

A swirl of emotions stirred within me—confusion, frustration, perhaps something deeper that I couldn't quite identify. What was that all about? As she turned and walked away, I found myself staring after her, captivated by the effortless grace in her stride. The soft tap of her boots against the stone floor echoed softly, a rhythmic sound that matched the beating of my own heart. The way her hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the light with each sway, was mesmerizing. Get a grip. The subtle scent of apples lingered in the air, teasing my senses and making it harder to push her from my thoughts.

These diversions had been a net good, I supposed—they added moments of levity in an otherwise grim journey—but I still didn't like what had just happened. Where did Blake get off trying to kiss me like that? I hadn't given any indication that I was interested, had I? Or had I been unknowingly sending signals? The boundaries between us were becoming blurred, and it was starting to mess with my head.

I ran a hand through my hair, fingers catching on knots I hadn't noticed before. Focus. I needed to focus, to clear my head and stop fixating on the memory of her almost-kiss—the way her lips had parted, the softness in her eyes, the warmth that had radiated between us. Her apple-scented breath still haunted me, stirring feelings I wasn't prepared to confront. Maybe I’m overthinking this.

With a frustrated sigh, I pushed myself up from the chair I’d slumped into and marched toward the library room. The corridor seemed longer than usual, shadows stretching and contorting under the flickering torchlight. Each step echoed loudly in the silence, the sound bouncing off the cold stone walls. The scent of aged parchment and ink greeted me as I entered, a comforting aroma that usually brought me peace. The quiet rustle of pages and the faint creaking of wooden shelves filled the air. I sank down into the same plush armchair as before, its worn cushions molding around me like a familiar embrace.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the book she had given me. The pages felt cool and slightly rough under my fingers, the paper thick and textured like handmade parchment. A faint smell of lavender and something ancient emanated from them. As my eyes scanned the first lines, the world around me began to fade.