The library of Astraeon Academy was nothing like the mundane ones Aysel had grown up with. Sunlight streamed through tall, arched windows, scattering across motes of magic that floated like dust and glimmered faintly in the air. Endless rows of bookshelves climbed toward the ceiling, their enchanted ladders gliding from shelf to shelf whenever a student summoned them.
Aysel walked softly past rows of students, some muttering incantations as the books before them whispered answers in return. The air smelled of old parchment, ink, and the faint tang of ozone—residue from careless spellwork.
At the heart of the library, a giant crystal sphere hovered above an ornate pedestal, its rippling surface like liquid glass. The sphere served as the library's guide, revealing the location of any book to those who infused it with mana.
Taking a steadying breath, Aysel approached. She had seen another student use it earlier. Hovering her hands over the cool surface, she whispered, letting her mana flow into it:
"Please… show me where I can find a book about dreams and nightmares."
The sphere glowed softly, and lines of light bloomed within, shifting into letters.
Shelf 12. West Wing.
She exhaled in relief and withdrew her hands.
"So, west wing… got it," she murmured, setting off.
As she walked, the shelves grew taller, some as high as houses, and many books pulsed with strange light. The farther she went, the fewer students she encountered. A faint frown tugged at her lips.
This place is enormous… maybe the west wing isn't used often.
The shelves here were older, the wood darker, the scent of age and dust stronger. It didn't strike her as unusual—of course a library this large would have forgotten corners. She felt no suspicion. Not yet.
Until the path ended.
Aysel halted before an empty shelf—Shelf 12, according to the crystal's directions. But not a single book was in sight.
"…There's nothing here?" she muttered, glancing around for help. "Did the magic sphere make a mistake…?"
Almost without thinking, she reached out and brushed the edge of the shelf.
The shelf vanished.
She staggered back, heart lurching as her surroundings melted away. The towering shelves, the dust and parchment, the quiet air of the library—gone.
In their place rose a forest of endless green.
"Wha—? Where am I? What's happening…?"
Panic threatened to surge, but she forced herself to breathe. Panicking wouldn't help. She spun in a slow circle, searching for anything familiar.
Then, a voice rang out:
"Aylin! There you are!"
She turned sharply. A woman—middle-aged, breathless—was rushing toward her.
"Aunt Rina? What's wrong?" Aysel heard herself say.
She froze. Those weren't the words she meant to speak. And yet, they had come from her mouth. Her voice was hers—but it wasn't.
Aunt Rina skidded to a stop, sweat glistening on her brow.
"There's… there's an emergency! Our village is under attack! We need your help!"
I don't understand… who is she? Why am I talking like this?
Her confusion only deepened. She looked down—and her heart skipped. She was no longer in her school uniform. The hands, the clothes… all were different.
She wasn't herself.
I… I'm inside someone else's body.
The name Aylin. The familiarity with Aunt Rina. The movements that weren't hers.
She could only conclude one thing: she was reliving someone else's memory.
Before she could process it further, Aunt Rina turned and ran, and Aylin's body—carrying Aysel's consciousness—sprinted after her.
The village came into view, and Aysel's stomach churned. Chaos reigned. People fled screaming as monstrous beasts rampaged through the streets. Soldiers fought desperately, but the creatures were too strong.
It wasn't the destruction that struck Aysel most, but the beasts themselves.
They were… wrong.
She had read about shadow beasts before—creatures marked by a single dark-purple stone embedded in their foreheads, through which they were controlled. But these…
These were alive in a way she had never seen. Their dark, writhing bodies radiated malice, and no stone marked their foreheads. They moved as if driven by their own will.
Before she could dwell on it, her borrowed body acted. Aylin's hands rose, spinning silver-gold threads of mana through the air. Power thrummed in her veins as if Aysel's own blood sang with it.
She watched, stunned, as lightning magic formed—dozens of crackling orbs swirling overhead before raining down upon the monsters. The blasts shook the ground, leaving some beasts injured but not defeated.
Then, one turned toward her.
A massive lion-like creature, three times her size, with blood-red eyes and fangs like daggers.
It lunged.
Aysel gasped, instinctively flinching. Her heart pounded, but her body—Aylin's body—moved with blinding reflexes, twisting aside at the last possible moment.
Claws sliced the air where her head had been.
If that hits me… will I die here?
The thought sent a chill down her spine. This wasn't real… yet it felt terrifyingly real.
And she had the sinking feeling that if she died in this memory, she might never wake up.
She had no time to dwell on her fear. The beast lunged again, and Aylin's body moved with impossible agility, dodging each strike by mere inches. Her heart hammered in her chest, though she wasn't the one in control.
Mana flared around her hands. This time, it twisted into gleaming chains of light that shot forward, coiling around the lion-like creature. The beast roared and thrashed, but the chains held firm.
"Take this!" Aylin's voice rang out.
The glowing chains suddenly shifted, sharpening into bladed edges that pierced the beast's body in a brutal strike. Its roar turned into a guttural scream of pain before its massive frame went still.
Then, without warning, the corpse disintegrated—crumbling into ash that scattered on the wind before vanishing entirely.
Aysel froze.
What… what the hell is happening in this place?
She barely had a moment to breathe before the remaining beasts, which had been tearing through the village, abruptly retreated. Their snarls and heavy footsteps faded as they slipped into the shadows.
The village was a ruin of smoke and splintered wood. Only a few soldiers and fighters remained—most villagers had fled to safety. Yet none of that held Aysel's focus.
Something else had arrived.
From the edge of the smoke and darkness, a figure appeared.
The sky had darkened, thick with storm clouds, casting everything in a gloomy haze. She squinted to see through the dim light. The figure walked slowly, deliberately, each step sending a shiver up her spine.
As the figure came closer, she saw it was a man.
Long, dark hair framed a face hidden behind a strip of black cloth wrapped across his eyes. Blindfolded—yet he moved with unerring confidence, as if the world bent to his awareness. His clothing was dark and simple, but there was an unmistakable weight to his presence, a chill that spread through the air as he approached.
Her body—Aylin's body—tensed instinctively.
Whoever he was, his appearance was far more terrifying than the beasts that had come before.