Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
If a Guardian needed help finding something, I would get it for them and hand it over.
I never once opened one. Ever.
That was basically the only rule I had. “Do not read the books. They are not for you.”
And who was I to look this gift horse in the mouth? They saved me. Not to mention educated me and still, today, they are looking out for me.
Plus, I think the Guild elders put me in the library as a test. To see if I would cheat. I was there alone most of the time. I didn’t really have a boss. There were a few older Guild librarians—legit ones, not interns like me, but I wasn’t accountable to them. And we were solitary workers, not teams.
I wasn’t even accountable to the archivist who ran the place. I was just… there. Kind of.
But I did not cheat.
One rule. It was basically like… You may live in my paradise, and you may eat all the fruits on all the trees—except this one. A real Garden of Eden kind of directive.
A test. With dire consequences should I fail.
If I was kicked out of the Guild, where would I go?
Would Zusi still be my friend?
I would like to think yes, she would. But she’s not really in control of her life. She might push boundaries here and there, but she’s a Guardian. I don’t think disobeying an order is actually an option.
I did not want to lose her, or anything to do with the Guild, so I did not read the books.
Of course, they couldn’t stop me from seeing the titles. And the titles of the oldest books were always telling. Old-World Mechanics. The Physics of Ether. Sound and Light for a New Age of Magic.
And, of course, there were also grimoires.
I knew those shadow books belonged to my ancestors. They were the writings of the witches who made me. Not the Black witches, because obviously, we are the anomaly and used as feeders or to power spells upon our deaths. But the bloodlines of the witches who made us were powerful in their own ways.
I look across the open space to the other side of the massive library and find the clock tower. The face reads 11:11.
Something is changing.
And then I am somewhere else.
That winter forest with a fallen tree trunk in the center.
But that man holding the baby isn’t there.
Instead, there is a woman. She is standing in the snow, naked, her back to me, her long, dark hair falling all the way down to her waist. It’s a waterfall of loose waves blowing in a gentle wind. I know she is beautiful before she even turns, just by the curves of her body.
When she begins her turn, I’m focused on her face. Waiting for it. But as she turns my focus lowers down to her stomach because she is pregnant. It takes me another moment to look up and realize that she is me.
She extends a hand, offering it to me, and even though I feel like this is a trap, I find myself walking towards her. I take her hand and she gently places it on her stomach. I marvel at the taut skin and then feel a small kick.
I want to pull away, but she forces my hand to stay where it is.
And then all I can do is look up and meet her gaze.
She doesn’t speak. Not out loud. But in my head, I hear her say, “He will make promises, darling. You need to be ready to hear them. Because they will be magnificent promises.”
It’s my grandma’s voice.
When I wake up, I’m drenched in sweat. My whole body is slick and gross. But when I open my eyes and turn, I realize it’s not me sweating like crazy. It’s Ryet.
“Holy shit.” I shake his arm. “Ryet? Wake up.”
He doesn’t even groan, let alone open his eyes. He’s just… still.
“Ryet?”
And then the hazy fog is back and for a moment I’m relieved because I must still be in the dream.
Except I’m not. It’s lavender. So it’s in the present.
And then there he is. The demon from the woods, baring himself to me in his true hideous form. Wings, and fangs, and claws. Blue-black skin and the face of a devil.
He is hideous and my stomach turns, feeling sick. Because I am a hundred percent sure that I just led him here.
One little mistake and now my life is over.
His wings extend a little, like he’s stretching but the room is too small to do that properly. He sits down on a chair near the door, leaning back, like he couldn’t be more relaxed. And when he speaks, he changes. “He’s dying, you know.”
He changes into a man. A very beautiful man, not unlike Ryet, but more. Everything about him is more. His voice is deep, and sexy, and… completely normal. Not anything like a demon. And I’m so shocked that I can actually hear him in this dreamwalk that I can’t even respond. Hell, I don’t even understand that I’m still naked or have the good sense to cover myself from his now wandering ice-blue eyes.