The library smelled of old paper and dust, a quiet that pressed against Arin's ears after the chaos of South Street. Rows of towering shelves stretched into shadowed corners, the weak glow from the single lantern flickering in rhythm with his heartbeat. Every creak of the floorboards felt amplified, every whisper of wind outside a potential threat.
Liora set the basket down with care, eyes darting to the door and windows. "We don't stay long. Find something useful, or we're wasting our time," she muttered. Her cough rattled as she leaned against a shelf, listening. Finn wandered a few steps ahead, running small fingers along the spines of books, wide-eyed at the stacks that rose like towers above him.
Arin's gaze fell on a desk tucked into a corner, the wood scratched and darkened with age. On it lay a single book, unlike the others, bound in black leather with strange symbols etched across the cover. He hesitated, his hand hovering over it. Something about the markings felt familiar, like the faded letters in the book he had found earlier on South Street.
"Don't touch it," Liora whispered, her voice low but urgent. "It could be—"
Her warning was cut short by a sudden noise—a soft thump from the other side of the library. Finn froze, clutching a small candle, eyes wide. "Who's there?" he asked, his voice trembling.
Arin's fingers closed over the black book. "Stay calm," he murmured. "It's probably just the wind… or a rat."
The candle flickered, casting strange shapes across the walls. For a moment, the shadows seemed to shift, forming angles that didn't belong to the shelves or furniture. Arin's pulse quickened. This is no ordinary library, he thought. There's something alive here.
He opened the book carefully. The pages were brittle, yellowed, and covered in writing that seemed to twist as he looked at it—symbols that moved if he didn't look directly. Finn peeked over his shoulder, eyes widening. "What… what is that?"
Arin shook his head, trying to focus. "I don't know… but it matches the letters in my book. There's… something hidden." He traced the symbols with his finger, feeling a faint warmth where the ink had been pressed into the paper.
Liora coughed again, this time sharper. "We don't have time for puzzles. Someone could come—" She froze mid-word as the floorboards groaned behind them. A shadow passed between the shelves, long and thin, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.
Finn whimpered, gripping Arin's arm. "It's following us…"
Arin swallowed, trying to steady his voice. "It's… probably just a rat. Or a cat." But even as he said it, he knew the words were lies. The movement had intelligence, purpose. Something—or someone—was watching.
He flipped through the pages, scanning the symbols. A pattern emerged: a sequence that matched the strange map he had glimpsed earlier, scribbled in the margins of his own book. Coordinates… directions… maybe to a place hidden in the city, he realized.
"Look at this," he whispered, pointing. Finn leaned closer. Liora crouched beside him, eyes narrowing. "If this is real," she said, "it could lead us somewhere dangerous. Or valuable."
A sudden gust of wind rattled the windows, extinguishing Finn's candle. Darkness swallowed the corner. Arin fumbled, relighting it from the lantern. Shadows danced again across the walls, forming shapes that made him catch his breath. For a moment, he thought he saw Corvin's face, or someone wearing his features, staring at them from the gloom.
"We need to move," Liora said firmly, handing the basket to Finn. "Take what you can carry. If it's too heavy, leave it. Quick."
Arin grabbed the book, tucking it carefully under his arm. "Wait—what about the notes?" Finn asked, clutching a loose piece of parchment he had found tucked between two books. It had symbols similar to the ones in Arin's black book, plus a small sketch of an alley marked with a strange symbol.
"Good," Arin muttered. "We take both. They could be the key." He slid the notes into his coat, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders.
The library door creaked as someone—or something—moved outside. Liora drew the knife from her sleeve, eyes scanning every shadow. "We're leaving now," she said. "Follow me."
They slipped out into the foggy streets, Finn clutching the basket and Arin's arm, and immediately the city swallowed them in its dim light and shadows. South Street at night was different—empty, echoing, but still alive with unseen watchers. Arin's mind raced, tracing the symbols again, imagining where they might lead.
A faint glow flickered in an alley ahead. It pulsed once, twice, then vanished. Arin stopped, heart thumping. "Did you see that?"
Liora shook her head. "Don't stop. Keep moving." Her grip on his arm was firm, reassuring, but tense. The knife pressed against her palm, ready.
Finn tugged at her sleeve. "Do you think Corvin's here?"
Arin's stomach twisted. He didn't answer immediately. The man had followed them once, silently, almost invisible in the fog. And the old woman… Maera. Both seemed connected to the secrets Arin was unraveling. The city itself felt alive, waiting for a misstep.
They reached a narrow alley that branched off the main street. Arin checked the papers in his pocket again, trying to match the symbols with the landmarks he could see in the fog. A pattern began to form—a path that twisted through alleys and rooftops, leading somewhere hidden, perhaps under the city itself.
Liora's voice snapped him from his thoughts. "Stop daydreaming. Watch Finn. Keep your eyes open. Every step matters."
They moved cautiously, shadows stretching long across the cobblestones. Every corner could conceal a threat. Every sound could be a warning. Finn's small hand was warm in Arin's, but he could feel the boy's fear.
Suddenly, a noise from above—a soft scuff, like boots on the roof—made them freeze. Arin's pulse jumped. He raised his lantern just in time to catch a glimpse of a shadow slipping across the tiles. Corvin? Or something else? The street seemed to hold its breath.
Liora hissed, tugging them into a recessed doorway. "Wait. Don't move. Don't breathe." The shadows stretched around them, but no one appeared. The alley remained empty. Arin's heart pounded in his chest.
"We have to keep going," he whispered. "The map… the symbols—they're leading us somewhere."
Finn nodded, gripping the basket tighter. Liora sighed, scanning the street one last time. "Fine. But we do it fast. And quietly. Every step counts."
They moved on, deeper into the maze of alleys and side streets. The city felt alive, watching, breathing. Arin's mind raced, piecing together symbols, maps, and notes. Something waits at the end of this path. Something important.
And somewhere above them, unseen, the faint glow pulsed again—like an eye, following, judging, waiting.
The trio pressed on, each step bringing them closer to the unknown. Shadows shifted, whispers lingered, and South Street kept its secrets close.
Arin clutched the black book tighter. The adventure had truly begun.