Chapter 5: The book chose me
1242 Words
The black mist rose from the ancient book as if it had been waiting for this moment for years.
Slowly.
Heavily.
Alive.
It did not burst outward. It did not attack immediately. Instead, it curled into the air in controlled movements, like smoke that knew exactly where it wanted to go. That quietness made it worse.
It felt intentional.
Irene stepped back.
Her heart was beating so fast she could barely hear anything else.
“What is this,” she whispered.
The old librarian’s face turned pale.
“Step away,” he said quickly. “Step away from it now.”
But the book was already open.
Its pages began to turn on their own.
At first slowly. Then faster.
Flip. Flip. Flip.
As if something inside was searching for her.
The candles in the library flickered violently. Their flames bent toward the book as if pulled by an invisible force.
Then the whispers returned.
This time, they were not only inside Irene’s mind.
They filled the air.
“Found you.”
Irene froze.
“No,” she said under her breath. “Stop.”
Her wrist burned sharply.
The black mark reacted as if it had been struck.
The librarian grabbed a sealing charm from his coat. It was an old piece of paper covered in faded runes.
He slammed it onto the book.
“By the decree of an old warding script, seal,” he shouted.
A flash of pale light burst out.
For a moment, the mist recoiled.
The book snapped shut.
Thud.
Silence returned instantly.
Only heavy breathing remained in the room.
Irene dropped to one knee, shaking.
The pain in her wrist slowly faded, but it did not disappear completely.
The librarian did not relax.
His expression looked worse than before.
“That should have worked,” he said quietly.
Irene looked up. “What was that?”
The librarian carefully picked up the book using a cloth, avoiding direct contact.
“This book is not meant to open,” he said.
He turned it slightly.
The symbol on the cover glowed faintly in black.
“But it opened for you.”
Irene’s throat tightened.
“I did not do anything.”
“That is exactly what worries me,” the librarian said.
A long silence followed.
Then a faint crackle sounded.
The sealing charm on the book began to burn out.
Black lines spread across it like veins.
The librarian pulled his hand back quickly.
“Impossible,” he whispered.
Irene stepped closer despite herself.
The book was not opening again.
But it was reacting.
Waiting.
As if it had only been interrupted.
“I cannot keep this here,” the librarian said urgently. “If the duchess finds out, you will not survive.”
At the mention of the duchess, Irene’s stomach tightened.
“I need your help,” she said quickly.
The librarian looked at her.
“With what?”
Irene hesitated. Then she pulled her sleeve down slightly, revealing the edge of the black mark.
It pulsed once under her skin.
“I need this gone,” she said. “Or hidden. Anything.”
The librarian stared at the mark.
Something changed in his expression.
Not only fear.
Recognition.
“So it has already begun,” he said softly.
Irene frowned. “What has begun?”
The librarian did not answer immediately. Instead, he turned and walked deeper into the library.
“Follow me,” he said.
They moved through narrow corridors between towering shelves. The air grew colder as they went deeper. Dust thickened with every step.
These were not ordinary bookshelves.
Some books were chained. Others were locked behind iron grates. A few had no titles at all.
The kind of knowledge no one was meant to read.
Finally, the librarian stopped in front of a hidden door.
He placed his hand on it.
Faint light moved through unseen runes.
The door unlocked.
Inside was a small stone room.
No windows.
Only a table.
And a sealing circle carved into the floor.
Irene hesitated at the entrance.
“This is dangerous,” she said quietly.
“Yes,” the librarian replied.
No hesitation.
Only truth.
“But it is safer than doing nothing.”
Irene stepped inside.
The moment she crossed the threshold, her wrist burned again.
Harder this time.
She gasped and grabbed her arm.
The librarian turned immediately.
“Do not resist it,” he said sharply. “If my suspicion is correct, it reacts to rejection.”
Irene shook her head. “Then what am I supposed to do?”
The librarian studied her for a long moment.
Then he spoke.
“Accept that it is part of you.”
Silence filled the room.
That sentence landed heavily.
Irene shook her head immediately.
“No.”
The mark pulsed again as if reacting to her refusal.
“I am not this,” she said firmly. “I am not cursed.”
The librarian exhaled slowly.
“Then you will die pretending otherwise.”
The silence that followed felt heavier.
Irene’s breathing became uneven.
“I do not want to die,” she said quietly.
The librarian nodded once.
“Good. Then listen carefully.”
He stepped into the sealing circle and pointed at the carved lines.
“This ritual will not remove the mark.”
Irene looked up sharply. “You said you could help me.”
“I said I could hide it,” he corrected.
His gaze returned to her wrist.
“But something like this cannot be erased easily.”
Irene felt her chest tighten.
“So what will this do?”
“It will suppress it,” he said. “Seal it deeper. Hide it from detection.”
He paused.
“For a time.”
Irene’s heart sank.
“For a time?”
The librarian nodded.
“And when that time ends…”
He did not finish.
Irene already understood.
It would return.
Stronger.
A long silence stretched between them.
Then the librarian spoke again.
“There is one condition.”
Irene looked at him. “What condition?”
“This ritual requires consent,” he said.
Irene blinked. “Consent?”
“Yes. The mark will resist. If you reject it completely, the ritual will fail.”
He watched her closely.
“You must allow it, even if it hurts.”
Irene clenched her fists.
The mark pulsed again, as if listening.
A whisper returned inside her mind.
“Let them try.”
Irene’s breath caught.
The librarian raised his hand.
“This is your final choice. Once you step into the circle, there is no turning back today.”
The room felt smaller.
Heavier.
Irene looked down at her wrist.
At the black lines under her skin.
At something she still did not understand.
Slowly, she stepped forward.
Into the circle.
The moment her foot crossed the carved line, the entire room turned cold.
The markings on the floor lit up.
And the whisper in her mind sounded almost pleased.
“Good girl.”
Irene’s eyes widened.
“Wait.”
The librarian slammed his staff onto the ground.
“Seal.”
Light erupted from the circle.
Irene screamed.
Outside the hidden room, deep within the mansion corridor, footsteps stopped.
Zayn stood still.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“That mana again,” he muttered.
He turned toward the library.
This time, it felt stronger.
And closer.
“What are you hiding, Irene?”
- Writer
