Page 21

At its center, a vortex seemed to spiral inward, trapped in mid-motion. It didn’t shimmer like the others. It pulled .

“ Oblivion’s Embrace ,” I read, the words tasting colder the longer we lingered on the page. My voice lowered with each line, like the parchment itself demanded reverence.

“A defensive amulet—it creates a reflective shield, turning magical attacks back on the caster.”

But it was the inscription that made my breath catch. The lettering twisted subtly under the firelight, like it moved when no one was watching.

“With every use, fragments of the wearer’s happiest memories are erased. What’s left behind is shadow—echoes where joy once lived.”

“These amulets...” Lydia whispered, her gaze fixed and unblinking behind her smudged lenses, “they’re not just weapons. They’re sacrifices.”

Leander leaned in, pointing to the next illustration—a ring wrapped in twisted iron branches, a cracked bloodstone glinting like a dried wound.

“The Bloodroot Covenant ,” he read, his voice brushing the side of my face like breath through leaves.

“It drains lifeforce and magic from the dying, transferring it to the wearer. It’s—immortality, in a way.”

His finger slid to the line beneath, and for once, there was no humor in his voice.

“But the wearer becomes addicted to stolen power,” he murmured. “Their own magic withers without it. And if the ring is destroyed…”He hesitated.“…the years taken are returned all at once. Collapsing the body under the weight of time.”

A quiet, unsettled hush fell between us as we absorbed the implications. Immortality at the cost of your soul—it was a price too many might be willing to pay.

I turned to the final page with trembling hands, and there it was—a perfect rendering of the amulet that now hung around my neck. The silver pendant with raven wings curled protectively around a smoky quartz gemstone.

“The Raven’s Echo,” I whispered.

The pendant warmed instantly against my skin, as if acknowledging its own name. I curled my fingers around it, the chain pressing coldly against the back of my neck.

“Said to grant cryptic glimpses of futures yet to unfold,” I read, my voice quiet, reverent. “Its voice is ever-changing—whispering truths… and warnings.”

My thumb traced the etched raven in the metal’s surface, the familiar pull of it tightening in my chest.

“But beware,” I continued, barely above a breath. “The amulet holds a consciousness of its own. It revels in its wearer’s doubts. It mocks weakness. Twists certainty into fear.”

The next line burned in my throat.

“Many who’ve worn it lost themselves. Unable to tell the difference between what was real… and what the Echo wanted them to believe.”

“They speak of me so unkindly,” the Raven’s Echo murmured within my mind, the tone playful yet edged with something darker. “As if I’ve ever led you astray, dear Elvana.”

I suppressed a shiver, ignoring the voice as I looked up at my friends.

“My family created these amulets,” I said, my voice steadier than the tremble beneath my skin. “They were guardians of the Umbra Gate.”

Lydia placed her hand over mine—warm, grounding. “And now you’ve inherited that responsibility,” she said softly.

Her words settled over me like a second weight.

“But where are the other six?” Leander asked, brow furrowed as he leaned back, fingers raking through his copper hair. “And more importantly—where is the Umbra Gate?”

The fire beside us cracked sharply, shadows shifting across the open pages spread before us like silent witnesses.

He leaned forward again, scanning a brittle sheet of parchment. “This says the Vale sisters scattered the amulets after the Shadow War. Each was entrusted to a different bloodline. A few were… lost. Others destroyed when they turned against Queen Nightlock.”

Across from us, Lydia froze mid-page. Her finger pressed to a line of faded ink, eyes widening as a strange mix of excitement and dread flickered across her face.

“Elvana,” she whispered, “you need to see this.”

Leander and I leaned in as Lydia’s finger followed the worn line of text. Her voice was steady, but low, as if the words themselves demanded caution.

“Queen Nightlock wielded the amulets in the final days of the Shadow War. Their power elevated her beyond any known mage… but each victory came with a cost. The amulets, cursed from their inception, demanded a toll.”

The fire crackled beside us, the shifting light casting long, fractured shadows across the page.

“As the final battle was fought and the shadow creatures were sealed away, Nightlock turned on her own people. The power had consumed her. She tried to reopen the Umbra Gate—wanted to command the very things she once helped banish.”

Lydia paused, her voice faltering for the first time. She swallowed, then read on.

“In the end, the Vale sisters stood against her. The battle was catastrophic. Queen Nightlock fell, but the damage had already been done. Some of the amulets were shattered during the fight —lost to time. The rest were scattered, hidden… to keep them out of the wrong hands.”

Leander exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair.

“So it’s true,” he said quietly. “Some of the amulets are still out there.”

“If they still exist,” I murmured, “they could still be used.”

Lydia’s gaze met mine, and I saw it—the same flicker of realization sparking in her amber eyes.

“They could still be dangerous,” she said, voice low and steady.

Leander leaned back, the chair creaking beneath him. His expression darkened, tension gathering in his jaw. “The question is… by whom ? And for what ?”

The air thickened around us, heavy with implications we weren’t ready to name. My fingers curled around the Raven’s Echo, the smoky quartz cool against my palm. It shimmered faintly beneath my touch, shadows shifting just beneath the surface—watching. Waiting.

The amulet had led me here. Whispered in riddles. Warned me.

But it had never told me how to stop what was coming.

“The shadow creatures,” I said aloud, the words scraping past the tightness in my throat. “They hunger for power. They’ve never forgotten their banishment.”

I hesitated, the thought landing harder than I’d expected.

“If the amulets were scattered… who’s to say one hasn’t already fallen into the wrong hands?”

Lydia closed the book with a soft, deliberate thud. The sound echoed through the vast hush of the library like a final vow.

“We need to find them,” she said, her voice steady but tight. “Before anyone else does.”

Leander nodded, the firelight catching the hard edge in his expression. “And we need to find the Umbra Gate—before someone else opens it.”

A chill ran through me at his words. Deep down, I knew that this was only the beginning.

The library bell chimed, a low, resonant sound that seemed to shiver through the very stones around us. The vibrations settled heavily on our shoulders—a grim reminder that even in the pursuit of knowledge, time remained our most merciless constraint.

"That’s our cue," Leander said reluctantly, gathering the scattered notes we had compiled. His copper hair fell across his forehead as he bent to retrieve a fallen scroll, his movements slow and weighted with the gravity of what we had uncovered.

Lydia nodded, already tucking the scrolls and pages into her leather satchel with meticulous care. Every movement was deliberate, methodical—a quiet mirror of her mind working through possibilities even as her hands moved.

“We’ve made real progress tonight,” she said, though a faint edge in her voice gave her away. She hated leaving anything unresolved. “We’ll pick this up again tomorrow—after classes.”

But I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the ancient tomes spread before us, each one brimming with secrets that had waited centuries to be discovered.

The weight of my family’s legacy pressed against my chest, heavier with each revelation.

The Raven’s Echo pulsed warmly against my skin, almost urging me to stay.

I need more time, I thought, barely hearing myself.

My fingers brushed the faded illustration of the Umbra Gate—a massive archway of obsidian and silver, etched with runes that seemed to writhe and shift even in the static image. It felt as though it pulsed beneath my fingertips, vibrating with a magic that had survived millennia.

“There has to be something here about its location,” I said, louder than I meant to. The desperation bled into my voice before I could rein it in.

Lydia paused mid-motion, her hand resting on the edge of her satchel. Her amber eyes met mine across the table—steady, gentle, but tired.

“Elvana,” she said softly, “we’ve been at this for hours. The texts aren’t going anywhere. They’ll still be here tomorrow.”

“But what if they’re not?” I shot back, tension tightening every word. “What if someone else is looking too? What if they find it before we do?”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken fears. The what-ifs curled between us, quiet but suffocating.

Around us, the library had begun to empty.

Students filed out in twos and threes, their soft footfalls and hushed conversations creating a slow, steady exodus toward the massive oak doors.

The torches along the walls sputtered low, casting flickering shadows that made the towering shelves seem to loom closer.

Leander exchanged a glance with Lydia, a silent communication passing between them. He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair—a gesture I had come to recognize as his tell when he was concerned but trying not to show it.

“You’re not planning to stay,” Leander said—less question, more accusation, edged with worry.

I met his gaze without flinching. “I have to. Not yet. There’s a section in the western alcove—records on ancient gates, magical barriers. If there’s anything about the Umbra Gate’s location, it’ll be there.”

“And if you’re caught after curfew?” Lydia asked, her voice taut, the worry bleeding through despite her effort to stay calm.

“I won’t be,” I said, trying to make the words sound more confident than I felt. “I’ll slip out unnoticed.”

I hesitated, then added, “I stole a bottle of Wraith’s Kiss from the Greenhouse this morning. I’ll use it if I have to.”

Leander exhaled sharply. “That stuff puts most people down for an hour. You know that, right?”

“I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t look convinced, but after a moment, he sighed, low and reluctant. “Fine. Just… be careful.”

Lydia frowned, clearly unhappy. Her eyes searched mine for a moment longer, then she gave a small nod.

“Knock on my door the second you’re back,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “If I don’t hear from you by sunrise—I’m coming after you.”

I nodded, watching as they gathered their things and moved toward the exit.

The library doors creaked open, spilling in the faint sounds of the outer halls—the shuffling of feet, the last murmurs of students rushing to beat curfew.

Then the doors closed behind them with a soft, resonant boom, leaving me alone in the vast, silent chamber.

I stood still for a moment, listening to the hollow silence that settled around me.

The fire at the center of the room had dwindled to embers, casting a soft, reddish glow over the polished stone floor.

Dust hung suspended in the slanted beams of dying torchlight.

The Raven’s Echo pulsed faintly against my skin, a steady, silent beat that seemed to echo the hush of the library itself.

I drew a steadying breath, tightened my grip on my satchel, and turned toward the western alcove.

The real search was about to begin.