Page 48

Chapter 47

Selestina

T he hallways of the academy feel colder tonight, a kind of chill that seeps into your bones, no matter how many layers you wear. Nasarea walks beside me, her steps unusually quiet, her usual sharp tongue replaced by a contemplative silence. The only sound is the echo of our boots against the stone floor, a rhythm that feels almost too loud in the oppressive stillness.

“I heard something once.” Nasarea finally breaks the silence, her voice hushed as if the very walls have ears. “My father mentioned it. Just in passing, but…”

I glance at her, catching the unease in her expression. “What is it?”

She hesitates, biting her lip, before continuing. “A library. Not just any library. The forbidden one, hidden somewhere in the academy. My father called it the heart of Tonalli’s secrets—the history of the gods, the truths they don’t want anyone to know. If there’s a place that could explain what happened to you… what you did today… it’s there.”

Her words settle over me like a lead weight. A forbidden library? It sounds like something out of a fairy tale, I feel the giddiness rise in me.

“Why would your father even mention it?” I ask, keeping my tone casual, though my mind is already racing. “Wouldn’t he want to keep something like that quiet?”

Nasarea shrugs, but there’s a sharpness to her movements. “He was arguing with someone. One of the kings, I think. It was years ago, but I remember the way he said it, like it was a threat. Like he was daring someone to challenge him.”

The pieces click together in my mind, each one sharper than the last. If this library exists, if it really holds the answers we need, then it’s worth the risk. “We need to find it,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.

Nasarea nods, her resolve matching mine. “I thought you’d say that.”

The search feels endless, a test of patience that I don’t currently have. The academy much bigger than I originally thought. Towering arches and winding staircases lead to dead ends, hidden alcoves, and forgotten classrooms. Every step forward feels like two steps back, yet neither of us dares to give up.

Nasarea walks beside me, her expression tense but determined. She extends her hand, her fingers sparking with magic. The air around us shimmers subtly as her magic reaches out, probing the unseen layers of the academy for traces of any lingering power. Her blue eyes narrow in concentration, her lips moving in a whispered incantation as we push deeper into the unknown .

“It’s here,” she mutters, her voice low and certain. “I can feel it. There’s something old, something… alive.”

I glance at her, my pulse quickening. “You sure? Because it feels like we’re just wandering around like idiots.”

Nasarea shoots me a glare, her annoyance barely masked. “Have a little faith, Selestina. Magic isn’t a compass. It’s more… intuitive. It’s leading us.”

“Leading us where?” I mutter, but I don’t argue further. She’s the expert here, and frankly, I have no better idea.

The academy grows eerily quiet as we venture further, the hum of life fading into an oppressive stillness. The torches lining the walls burn low, their flames weak and quivering, as if struggling to hold on. The air grows colder, making every breath visible in the dim light.

“This place is giving me the creeps,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Nasarea smirks, her hand still glowing with magic. “Good. Creepy usually means we’re on the right track.”

We pass through an archway that feels different from the others. The stone here is darker, the walls lined with faded tapestries depicting scenes I can’t quite make out. Nasarea pauses, her magic pulsing in her hand, her expression growing more intense.

“It’s stronger here,” she says, turning to face me. “We’re close. I can feel it.”

I nod, gripping the strap of my bag tighter as we press on. The corridors become narrow, the walls pressing in on either side. The shadows stretch long and dark. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched, though every time I glance back, there’s nothing there.

“Tell me again why we’re doing this,” I say, trying to keep my voice light.

“Because,” Nasarea replies, not bothering to look at me, “ this library supposedly holds knowledge that’s been hidden for centuries. Forbidden magic. Secrets people don’t want us to find.”

“And you think we’re going to find it because your magic feels... vibes?”

She finally stops and glares at me. “It’s not ‘vibes,’ Selestina. It’s magic. It’s pulling us toward it. Or are you scared to find out what’s actually in there?”

I snort, shaking my head. “Scared? No. Tired of walking in circles? Definitely.”

Nasarea rolls her eyes and keeps moving, her magic lighting the way as we turn corner after corner. The further we go, the older the academy feels. The stones beneath our feet are uneven, worn smooth by centuries of footsteps. Dust lingers in the air, catching in the weak torchlight.

Finally, we reach a long hallway I’ve never seen before, charged with an energy that prickles against my skin. Nasarea slows, her magic glowing brighter as her fingers trace the walls.

“This is it,” she whispers, her breath visible in the icy air. “It's here. I can feel it.”

The stone around us is darker and smoother than anywhere else in the academy. At the far end of this corridor is a heavy door, unassuming, and made of dark wood, warped with age. An old broom leans against it. A weak attempt at trying to make it look unassuming and unimportant. There are no markings, or glyphs, to suggest what lies behind it. It is just a door.

Nasarea steps forward, her magic flaring as she reaches out to touch the door's surface. The instant her fingers graze the wood, a humming reverberates through the air.

“This has to be it,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible .

I take a step closer, my heart pounding. The air around the door is freezing, my breath curling in front of me like smoke. “Well,” I say, my voice shakier than I'd like, “what are we waiting for?”

Nasarea looks back at me, her expression unreadable. “If we open this, there's no going back. Whatever is inside… it's been hidden for a reason.”

I nod my head. My fingers quiver with anticipation. “Let's do it.”

She slaps her hand flat against the door, and her magic pulsates in waves; with a low groan, the door starts to move. The wood creaks as it swings inward, revealing a darkness so thick it feels alive. I force myself to step forward, Nasarea close behind.

The room beyond is immense, impossibly so, the high ceilings disappearing into the shadows above. Shelves of centuries old books stretch off into the darkness, their spines coated with dust. The air smells of parchment and decay.

“We found it,” Nasarea whispers, her voice caught between awe and disbelief.

The forbidden library.

Whatever answers lie here, whatever truths have been buried, we're about to dig up. And I can't help but think that nothing will ever be the same again.

The first thing that strikes me is the smell of old parchment and ink, thick and heady, with just a hint of herbs that signals the use of magic. We make our way down slowly, the dim light from above gradually fading with every step. At the bottom, the sight takes my breath away.

“This is—” Nasarea falters, her voice hushed.

“Unreal,” I finish, stepping further in. The floor beneath us is of polished stone, etched with intricate patterns.

We move cautiously, scanning the shelves around us for something that catches the eye.

The shelves themselves are impossibly tall, carved from dark, rich wood, dust coating each surface. They're tightly packed with books一some bound in cracked leather, others so worn that the spines look ready to crumble at even the slightest touch. A ladder leans against one of them, its metal rungs worn smooth by centuries of use, though it doesn't seem to have been moved in ages.

The center of the library opens into a great reading area lined by long, heavy oak tables. Their surfaces are scarred with scratches and ink stains, the marks of countless hands that have studied here before.

A great fireplace looms on the far wall, its mantel carved with designs that appear to twist and glimmer when I try to look directly at them. The hearth pushes cold air out as though the fire once there was overtaken by the world around it. Above it hangs a great tapestry, its edges frayed, but the picture on it is still vivid: a battlefield, with a blood red moon overhead, warriors and creatures fighting in chaotic motion.

As I walk further in, I notice the hum of magic in the air. Subtle, it's like a low vibration just beneath my skin, making the hairs on my arms stand on end.

I stop in front of one of the shelves, running my fingers over the spines of the books. The titles are faded and in languages I don't recognize. Some have a smattering of gold that's long since dulled, while others bear strange glyphs that glow under the touch of my fingers. I pull one book free; its weight is surprising in my hands. With a sigil on the cover that I don't know, I open it up, ink is subtly rearranging itself.

“This place…” I whisper, my words barely audible. My vo ice sounds out of place here, too loud. It is as if I have entered another world altogether, one that time and the outside world have not touched.

Behind me, Nasarea gasps, drawing me from my thoughts. She is staring up toward the ceiling, wide eyed in wonder. “This isn't just a library,” she says . “It's a vault.”

I nod, unable to tear my gaze from the books surrounding us. This is not a collection of old texts; it's a place of power. And as I stand there, a deep sense of foreboding settles in my chest.

It doesn't take long before a book catches my eye, its spine blackened and cracked, the title barely legible.

I reach for the book; its heavy as I lift it from the shelf. Before I can even open it, the book wrenches itself free from my hands and floats midair, darting across the room.

“What the fuck is–?” I start, but the words catch in my throat as the book lands heavily on one of the ancient oak tables, its impact sending a cloud of dust spiraling into the air.

Nasarea gasps behind me, her magic flaring at her fingertips as if she’s ready to defend against an attack. But the book doesn’t stop there. Its cover creaks open on its own, and the pages begin to flip rapidly, moving as though guided by unseen hands. The hum of magic fills the air, growing.

“What the hell is happening?” Nasarea whispers, her voice tight.

I take a cautious step forward, my heart pounding in my chest. “I don’t know, but… I think it’s showing us something.”

The book comes to an abrupt stop, its pages lying open, the air suddenly heavy with stillness. A glow emanates from the ink, and I take another step closer, drawn by a force I can’t explain.

The text is written in a language I don’t fully recognize, but it feels… familiar. The letters shimmer, rearranging themselves as I stare at them, their meaning unraveling in my mind like they’ve been waiting for me to understand.

Nasarea leans over my shoulder, her breath warm against my ear as she peers at the glowing text. “What does it say?”

I don’t respond immediately; my eyes locked on the words as they burn into my thoughts. They don’t just sit on the page—they pulse, alive with meaning, etching themselves into my consciousness as though they’ve been waiting for me, specifically me , to find them.

“It’s... a prophecy,” I murmur, the realization chilling me to my core.

Born of shadow’s kiss and light’s embrace,

A child of the in between shall rise,

Her steps will echo through the halls of time,

A bringer of endings, a weaver of fates.

Where death lingers, she will call,

The silent rest undone at her will,

A hand stretched to the veil,

And the lifeless shall walk beneath her command.

The moon is her keeper, her strength a tide,

Waxing and waning, yet never broken.

Her light will blind the unworthy ,

Her dark will consume the arrogant.

None shall stand before her fury,

For she is the storm and the stillness,

The blade and the balm,

Her power boundless, her destiny unyielding.

But beware the path forged by her hand,

For where she treads, kingdoms will fall,

The balance shall falter, the line will blur.

Salvation or ruin—none can tell.

I read it aloud, my voice barely above a whisper. The words hang in the air, heavy and foreboding, their meaning just out of reach.

Nasarea stiffens beside me. “What does that mean?” she asks, her voice barely masking the edge of fear.

I shake my head, my fingers tracing the faded ink. “I don’t know,” I admit.

“A girl who can make death walk,” Nasarea murmurs, her eyes darting to mine.

“Selestina, that’s?—”

“Don’t.” I cut her off, my voice sharper than I intended. “We don’t know anything yet.”

But the words are already circling in my mind, intertwining with everything I’ve ever questioned about myself. The whispers that come with my power, the cold that clings to my skin when I reach for it, could it all be connected to this? To her ? To me ?

Nasarea points to the next page, but it’s been torn out, the jagged edges of the paper mocking us. “Of course,” she mutters, frustration creeping into her tone. “Whoever found this before us didn’t want anyone else knowing the rest.”

My fingers tighten on the book, my knuckles turning white. “Why would your father know about this library? Why would he?—”

She flinches at the mention of her father; her gaze hardening. “I don’t know. He’s never talked about anything like this to me. Only that it’s dangerous to dig too deeply into the past.”

“Maybe because he has something to hide,” I say, the words falling before I can stop them.

Her eyes narrow, and her jaw tightens so hard I can almost hear her teeth grind. “Of course, he has something to hide, Selestina. My father has plenty to hide. But don’t think for a second that he’s the only one. This place, this prophecy, it’s all wrapped up in so much bullshit, it’s a miracle we’ve even gotten this far. And we need to figure it out fast, or we’re both screwed.”

Her words hit harder than I want to admit. I swallow the retort sitting on my tongue and nod, forcing myself to focus on the bigger picture. She’s not wrong.

This library, this prophecy—it’s not just a random discovery. It’s a thread in a web of secrets older than both of us, secrets that seem to grow darker and more tangled the closer we get. And now, whether we like it or not, we’re caught in it.

There’s no way out now. For better or worse, we’ve crossed a line, and there’s no turning back.