The air in the library always smelled like vanilla and decaying paper—a scent that usually grounded Leo, but tonight, it felt like it was suffocating him. He adjusted his glasses, peering through the stacks at the flickering light in the restricted section. "You’re late," a voice whispered.
They reached the iron-bound door at the very back of the room. Elena inserted the key. It turned with a heavy, metallic clack that sounded like a gunshot in the silence of the library. "Inside," she urged.
Elena stepped closer, her shoulder brushing his. The bravado in her eyes flickered for a second, replaced by something raw and hungry. "They’ve been lying to us, Leo. About the magic, about where it comes from. Don't you want to know the truth? Even if it's hidden?"
She held up a heavy, rusted key—the one she’d swiped from the caretaker’s belt while he was distracted by a well-placed illusion. They were here for the Liber Umbrarum , a book that supposedly didn't exist, containing secrets the Academy had spent centuries trying to bury.
"The headmaster was patrolling the east wing," Leo hissed, his voice trembling. "If we get caught, Elena, it’s not just detention. It’s expulsion. Or worse."
The room beyond was small, filled with a thick, unnatural fog. In the center, resting on a pedestal of obsidian, was the book. It wasn't large, but it pulsed with a faint, rhythmic violet light, like a heartbeat.