The Demon's Mate

2

It had been three days since Jasper last stepped into the library, and he hadn’t thought much about it. Finals had swallowed his world whole, leaving him sleep-deprived, constantly shoving junk in his mouth, overdosed on caffeine, and surrounded by notebooks covered in barely legible scribbles and just crippling anxiety. The university felt like a ghost town now as most students had gone home for the break, leaving the dorms quiet and oddly cold. Jasper didn’t mind the silence as it gave him room to breathe and to be as loud as he wanted to. But there was something else that had started to tug at him, something quiet and persistent that he tried to ignore.

It was the book.

That damn book.

He’d left it in the library, forgotten, maybe even on purpose, because there was something about it that didn’t sit right with him. It had shown him things that didn’t make sense, made him feel things he couldn’t explain. The images, the warmth in his chest, the voices he couldn't quite catch… all of it had left a weird fog in his head. Still, he'd chalked it up to stress or a lack of sleep. What else could he blame it on?

But now, with the weight of exams finally over, his mind kept circling back to that room on the second floor, tucked behind the old shelves in the midst of great stories of Rome. The memory of the embossed cover still lingered in his mind. He could almost feel its texture under his fingers, worn but oddly alive. It had no title, no author, nothing on the spine. Just that strange pull, like a thread wrapped around his chest. The soft tingle when his fingers brushed the wings of the embossed archangels kept reaching deep in his thoughts, invoking the need to feel it again.

That morning, Jasper woke up earlier than usual. The sun hadn’t fully risen, and the sky was soft and gray. Something about the day felt off, like the world was holding its breath. He sat at the edge of his bed, staring at the floor, a cold cup of tea and the leftover takeout on his desk untouched from last night.

His fingers twitched.

He didn’t plan it. One minute he was brushing his teeth, the next he was pulling on a hoodie and slipping out of the dorm building, heading toward the library. He told himself he was just going for a walk. But his feet had a mind of their own, and they knew exactly where they were going. The campus looked different when it was empty, quieter. The wind moved through the trees like it was whispering secrets, and every step Jasper took echoed louder than usual. He pulled his hood up, not because of the cold, but because the silence made him feel strangely exposed, too alone. The stone path to the library stretched long and quiet, with the faintest rustling sound behind him. He paused once or twice, thinking he heard footsteps, but each time he turned, there was nothing. It was as if someone was following him, making him do this, but Jasper couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to get to the library soon.

Just trees. Empty benches. A few stray leaves dancing across the ground.

When the library came into view, Jasper hesitated. The building loomed like it always had, tall and proud with its ivy-covered walls and arched windows. But today, it looked darker, like the shadows had sunk a little deeper into the corners. Still, he climbed the steps. But, to his surprise, the front doors were unlocked. He stepped inside, the smell of old paper and dust settling over him like a blanket. Once these aromas gave him comfort, but this time it settled deep inside him, lingering uncomfortably. The lights were dim, just a few flickering bulbs humming quietly above. The air was colder here than outside. He wrapped his arms around himself as he walked past the check-out desk and deeper into the stacks. It felt like the library was waiting for him. He moved almost on autopilot, past rows of books he’d never bothered to look at before, until he reached the familiar hallway. The second floor creaked under his weight, and as he turned the corner, his eyes landed on the table where he’d last sat. The book was still there.

Right where he left it.

He stared at it. It looked so normal now, just an old red book sitting in a pool of quiet light from the window. No glowing, no pulsing. Just… stillness. But when he reached out to pick it up, the moment his fingers touched the cover, a warmth spread through his hand like static. The book felt warmer than it should have, like it had been waiting for him all this time. He pulled out the chair and sat down slowly. His fingers brushed the edge of the cover, and then, without really meaning to, he opened it again.

The pages fluttered on their own, stopping at one he hadn’t seen before. The paper looked thicker, aged, almost like parchment. Something was folded inside the stuck pages. One of the pages was unnaturally translucent. It looked like a piece of string at first, a tiny coil of black twine knotted into a loop. But when he touched it, it shimmered faintly, like heat on the pavement. It was cold and solid in his hand, but also....hot. It didn’t feel like it belonged in this world. Especially not in someone's hands.

“What the hell is this?” he whispered. His finger tracing the metal loop. He could almost feel it, the cold metal but slightly hot on Jasper's fingertips. There were carvings alongside the loop.

The moment he said it, a gust of wind passed through the room, howling in the dead silence. The windows didn’t rattle. The door didn’t move. And yet, the air shifted, curling around him like something invisible had stepped into the room. He stood up quickly, dropping the book onto the table. The book’s pages began to flip again, faster this time, like it was searching for something. Jasper backed away, but not too far. He couldn't take his eyes off it. And then, he heard it.

A caw.

Loud. Sharp. Too close.

He turned toward the window, heart in his throat. There, sitting on the edge of the windowsill, was a raven. Large, with feathers so black, they shimmered blue in the weak light, every move making them glimmer. It tilted its head at him, eyes too intelligent, too knowing. Jasper blinked. The bird didn’t move. Then it opened its wings and flew right into the library. He gasped and stepped back as the bird flew in a slow, deliberate circle above him before landing directly on top of the book. It stared at him, unblinking. “I don’t… I don’t understand what you want,” he muttered. The raven cawed again, once. Loud and final. Then it snapped its beak and pecked gently at the book's edge and then gestured his head towards him. The message couldn’t have been clearer.

Take it.

Jasper reached for the book again, fingers trembling slightly. The moment he touched it, the raven hobbled off the book, still and curiously watching Jasper. It was as if the bird was judging him or maybe Jasper was dreaming. The bird ruffled its feathers and softly nudged Jasper's fingers. Jasper stood still, not wanting to break the moment and very gently caressed the birds head with his fingertips. The bird closed its eyes and leaned in, and a moment later the bird took off again, flying back through the open window with a powerful flap of its wings, vanishing into the gray morning. And just like that, the library fell silent again.

He picked up the book, and carefully tucked it under his arm. As he walked out of the library, the wind picked up again, rustling through the trees like they were whispering secrets he wasn’t ready to hear. But whatever this was and whatever he’d just stepped into, it wasn’t over.

Something had started.

And it wasn’t going to stop.