Elara held her breath in the darkness. The room was silent, except for the sound of her heartbeat, loud and fast in her ears.
The footsteps above had stopped, but she could still feel someone was there. Listening. Waiting.
Cassian stood still beside her. She couldn't see his face, but she could feel how calm he was, like he was used to this.
After what felt like forever, the sound of a door creaked shut somewhere above them.
Cassian whispered, "We wait one more minute."
The candle was still in his hand, unlit now. The air in the underground room was damp and smelled like wet stone and old ashes.
Elara's fingers brushed the sealed book on the table. Its cover was warm- too warm for something that had been in the cold. The red wax seal pulsed faintly, like it was alive.
When Cassian finally lit the candle again, the room slowly came back into view. The shadows moved away, but they didn't feel gone. They felt like they were watching from the corners.
Elara whispered, "What was that?"
Cassian answered, "The library has… guards. Not people. Not ghosts. Just… watchers. They don't like it when we stay too long."
"Why not?"
"Because we ask the wrong questions."
They left the basement and stepped back into the main library. It was empty again. The silence was heavy, like it had something to hide.
Cassian stopped beside a tall shelf. "Don't come here alone again."
Elara nodded, her throat dry. "I wasn't planning to."
He gave her a strange look- not exactly friendly, not exactly cold. "You're different from the others."
"What others?"
"The ones who vanished."
Her heart sank. "You said Maris read the book. What about the others?"
"They all went searching for the Grimoire. Some thought it would give them power. Some just wanted answers."
"And what happened?"
Cassian shrugged. "No one knows. They disappeared, one by one."
That night, Elara sat on her bed, holding the sealed book in her lap. She had stolen it from the basement.
She knew it was dangerous. But the truth was stronger than fear now.
She looked at the red seal. It was shaped like an eye.
She didn't open it- not yet. But she pressed her fingers against the cover and whispered:
"I'm not like the others."
And the book warmed under her hand.
In the darkness of her room, something moved in the mirror.
Not her reflection.Not a shadow.Something else.
Something watching.