Rain fell hard on Washington that night.
The library was almost empty, except for the unlucky ones, students with too many deadlines and not enough hours. Ethan Cole was one of them. A first-year law student, already drowning. His tie was loose, his notes were a mess, and his head pounded from too much coffee.
He glanced at the clock. 1:47 a.m. Great. He had briefs to write, exams to study for, and a future that felt like it was slipping through his hands.
He leaned back, rubbing his temples. He wanted to quit. For just a moment. But quitting wasn't in his blood. Not after all the sacrifices to get here.
Dragging himself up, he decided to stretch, maybe find another coffee. That's when he noticed it, a door at the back of the archives. It was ajar, a place he had never seen unlocked before.
Curiosity sparked in him. Anything was better than criminal law statutes.
He pushed the door open. The air inside smelled of dust and old secrets. The room was small, lined with shelves of manuscripts that looked untouched for decades. And then he saw it, on a desk, in the middle of the room.
A book.
It was large, bound in cracked black leather, marked with a strange symbol: half a gavel, half a serpent.
Something about it felt wrong. Dangerous. Yet Ethan's hand moved before he could stop himself. The cover was colder than ice. The moment his skin touched it, the lamp above flickered, and the air grew heavy.
The book opened.
The letters inside shimmered, shifting until they formed words he could read.
"At dawn, blood will fall outside the West Gate of Harvard Law."
Ethan frowned. Harvard? He wasn't even in Boston. Someone had to be playing a joke. But then the next line bled onto the page in thick black ink.
"The witness: Ethan Cole."
His stomach dropped. His name. On paper that looked older than the United States itself.
He stumbled back, knocking over a chair. His pulse hammered in his ears. He wanted to shut the book, burn it, throw it away. but his body wouldn't move.
"Ethan?"
The voice cut through the silence. He spun around.
Maya Torres stood in the doorway.
Even under the dim light, she looked composed, almost too calm. Her dark hair was pulled back, her sharp eyes focused on him, not the book. Maya was the kind of girl who always had the answers in class, who spoke with quiet confidence that made professors pause. She intimidated him. And yet, she fascinated him.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, stepping closer. Her voice was soft, but her presence filled the room. Her eyes flicked to the book, and for the first time, Ethan saw something in her expression he had never seen before. Fear.
"You know this book?" he whispered.
Maya hesitated. For a moment, she looked like she might lie. Then she shook her head slightly. "Some things are safer unread."
The lamp above them exploded. Shards of glass fell like rain. Ethan ducked, shielding his head. When he looked up, the book had flown open again.
Words burned across the page in fresh ink.
Maya leaned over, her lips parting as she read. And the way her face changed, the way color drained from her cheeks made Ethan's blood run cold.
He grabbed her arm. "What does it say?"
She looked at him, eyes wide, voice trembling.
"It says… you're not just the witness, Ethan. You're the reason the blood falls".