Page 111 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

My magic tugs harder now, leading me toward the left side of the library, where the shelves rise like ancient sentinels.

My fingers trail along the spines of books, and though the titles blur past my gaze, I can feel the energy narrowing, focusing.

It hovers over a single text, a presence so strong it makes my breath hitch.

The worn leather cover is marked by a familiar symbol—a tree, its roots bleeding crimson.

My pulse pounds as I brush trembling fingers over the etched design.

The magic surrounding me stills, settling into a quiet hum as if satisfied, as though this is what it had been seeking all along.

I pull the book free. The leather-bound cover creaks softly as I open it, the air filling with the faint scent of dust and decay.

My eyes skim the pages, each word a tether pulling me deeper into the possibilities unfolding before me.

And then I see it— shadow walking.

The description is haunting, the words vibrating with meaning as if they were written for this moment.

The ability to step between life and death, to exist in both realms simultaneously.

To walk in the shadows is to be unseen, untouchable.

But the warning etched in bold ink sends a shiver down my spine.

Linger too long in the shadows, and you risk being consumed by them.

My jaw tightens as my scarred fingers trace the page, the crackling energy of my magic flickering faintly around me.

This spell—it could be the key. If the vault cannot be breached by ordinary means, perhaps one of us could slip into the shadows, crossing that fragile line between life and death to gain access .

The possibilities rush through my mind, a storm of hope and dread mingling in my chest. I snap the book shut, the echo reverberating through the library, a stark reminder of the emptiness around me. My chest tightens as I tuck the tome under my arm and make my way toward the portal.

The air grows colder as I near the spot where I first arrived.

My breath escapes in faint puffs of mist, and a chill seeps into my bones, wrapping around my lungs like frost. I rub my hands together, trying to shake the creeping numbness from my fingers.

My magic stirs weakly, ebbing low like the final flicker of a dying flame.

I’ve pushed myself too far.

As I reach the arch of the portal’s anchor, I pause, leaning against the cold stone wall for balance.

My knees threaten to give out beneath me, and I clutch the book tightly to steady myself.

Each breath is shallow, the frost spreading with every exhale.

I blink hard, my vision blurring again. Get through this, I urge myself.

They’re holding the circle on the other side. You just have to go back.

The weight of my exhaustion is almost enough to overwhelm me, but then, a faint ripple of energy crawls up my spine—a presence. My magic reacts instinctively, stirring at my fingertips, and I whirl around, my pulse quickening.

The ghost.

Standing in the shadows, as if she’s always been there, her long dark hair cascades around her shoulders like ink spilling over moonlight.

She’s just as I remember her in my bedroom—ethereal, haunting, otherworldly.

Her worn gray gown clings to her figure, the fabric flowing like mist, the frayed hem trailing along the stone floor.

I almost forget to breathe. She feels familiar now, not just from the last time I saw her but in a way I can’t explain.

As though we share an unspoken bond, formed by what we are.

A warmth rises in my chest, chasing away the chill in my lungs.

It isn’t fear that I feel—it’s relief. And something more. Hope.

“Are you the witch?” I ask cautiously, my voice steady despite the unease prickling my skin. I take a step toward her. “The one Malachi talks about? ”

Her soft smile widens, and she tilts her head slightly, as if acknowledging my words. Her pale face seems to glow faintly in the dim light.

“Mal?” she murmurs, her voice barely audible, almost like a question meant only for herself.

I nod slowly, warmth spreading through my chest as recognition flickers across her face. Relief mingles with an odd sense of joy—I’m happy to see her, to stand before her.

But then her expression hardens, and she looks directly at me.

“He cannot have it,” she says abruptly.

My brows pull together in confusion.

“Who?” I ask, shaking my head. “Who are you talking about?”

She shakes her head, almost insistently, but offers no immediate answer. My mind races as I try to piece together her meaning.

“Clyde?” I ask tentatively.

She nods, this time more firmly.

I exhale softly, a faint smile tugging at my lips.

“He won’t get it,” I say with quiet determination. “Casper and I?—”

She cuts me off, stepping closer. Her brows knit together, and her gaze softens again.

“Cas,” she repeats under her breath, as though the name stirs something deep within her.

Her eyes search mine, and for a second, I see something fragile in her expression. My breath hitches as I watch her glance at the ground, her shoulders sagging. I take another step toward her.

“Are you a ghost?” I ask softly.

She shakes her head. “A vision,” she whispers.

“From the past?”

She inclines her head, her voice steadier, yet laced with something almost reverent.

“Only to see it buried beyond his reach. To ensure the next witch binds it in shadow, that it is never wielded by unclean hands.” A tremor weaves through her words as she steps closer, her gaze burning into mine, brimming with warning. “You cannot let him take it. If he does, all will be undone. ”

I nod, my resolve unwavering.

“Casper and I will make sure of it,” I say firmly.

Her brows pull again, but her lips part, and a softer expression overtakes her face.

“Will you carry a message to him?” she asks, her voice a thread of quiet desperation.

“Malachi?”

She shakes her head. I take a step closer, trying to make sense of what shifted between us. Her shoulders slump and tremble with something fragile.

“Cas?”

She nods, the truth of her answer reflected in her eyes.

“Tell him I will always love him,” she says, her words heavy with sorrow.

Confusion prickles at the edges of my thoughts, but before I can say anything, the lanterns flicker back to life. I whirl around, but when I look back, she’s gone, her presence evaporating like mist.

“Wait!” I call out, my voice echoing down the empty corridor, but there’s no answer.

The only thing that remains is the chill, and the faint, lingering ache of something lost. I stand still, my mind racing as I try to process everything I’ve just learned.

The witch who appeared before me wasn’t just any witch—she had woven a spell so massive, so intricate, it defied reason.

To enchant an entire castle, to bind her magic so that it would only answer certain questions or offer guidance when the right words were spoken, required a power and foresight beyond anything I’d ever imagined.

She wasn’t fully here, not truly. It was as if she existed as a fragment of time, a seer who had walked between moments, leaving echoes of herself behind.

Bound by her own magic, she could only speak in riddles, her words cryptic yet deliberate, offering just enough to guide me forward while withholding more than I could comprehend.

The weight of what she must have sacrificed to cast such a spell leaves me shaken.

This wasn’t done lightly. It wasn’t just protection; it was an act of desperation, of duty, and perhaps, of love .

My mind drifts back to her final words, soft and filled with emotion, not meant for me but for Casper.

“Tell him I will always love him.”

Her voice stirred something deep within me. It wasn’t just a farewell—it was a piece of her soul, a fragment of her heart left behind for him to hold. It felt… intimate. Heavy with regret. Gods, had she once belonged to him? Was that why Casper never spoke of her?

Confusion stirs in my chest, but I force myself to take a deep breath. The air is cold, biting at my lungs as the chill spreads through my body. My legs feel heavy, my magic depleted, but I can’t stop now.

I press my palm against the wall beside me, steadying myself as I clutch the book tightly.

My fingers tremble, but I grip the worn leather like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality.

I close my eyes, letting the flickering lanterns fade from my vision.

I picture Casper’s face—dark evergreen eyes, angular features etched with quiet strength.

The way his brows pull when he’s worried, the warmth hidden behind his stoic mask.

The thought of him steadies me, his presence a beacon of resolve.

My heart tightens, the ache of uncertainty mingling with the faintest glimmer of hope.

I press my lips together, inhaling deeply as I focus on the memory of his gaze, his intensity, the way he looks at me as if I’m the only thing anchoring him to this world.

The chill seeps deeper into my bones, my breath visible in the dim light.

The library feels impossibly still, as though the very walls are holding their breath, waiting.

I can’t linger here. They’re waiting for me on the other side.

I take a step forward, my boots echoing faintly against the stone floor.

The air shifts around me, and I raise my hand, channeling what little magic I have left.

My fingertips tingle with the faint, familiar hum of power, though it feels weaker now, fragile and fleeting.

I focus on the space in front of me, drawing from the memory of the circle we created, the bond that holds the portal open.

The light flickers faintly at first, a shimmer of magic rippling through the air like a distant echo.

My heart races as I pour what remains of my strength into it, willing the portal to take form.

The fabric of reality begins to shift, the edges of the library distorting as the magic swirls and bends.

And then, it opens.

The portal shimmers like liquid silver, its edges glowing softly as it connects me to the forest beyond. My breath catches as I step closer, the magic drawing me in. Through the swirling light, a figure takes shape—a pair of evergreen eyes, sharp and steady, watching me from the other side.

Relief washes over me, mingled with a bittersweet ache that I can’t quite name.

His gaze holds mine, unspoken words passing between us as the portal hums softly, inviting me through.

My heart pounds as I clutch the book tighter, my legs unsteady but determined. With one final breath, I step through.

The portal closes behind me with a whisper, the hum of magic fading into silence. The chill of the library is gone, replaced by the cool night air of the forest. The scents of pine and earth fill my senses, grounding me as I lift my gaze to meet his.

“Casper.”

To be Continued