Chapter 3
968 Words
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Fog curled lazily against the windows as if it had decided to set up permanent residence in Evermoor. The bookstore felt different this morning—more alive, like it was holding its breath, waiting.
Timothy stood by the counter, his movements deliberate as he examined one of the books I hadn’t gotten around to organizing yet.
He looked better than he had last night, though the glow of his scars still pulsed faintly beneath his skin, like embers refusing to die.
“You have a surprising collection,” he said, his deep voice breaking the silence.
“Surprising how?” I asked, folding my arms as I leaned against the doorway.
He held up a worn, leather-bound volume titled Legends of the Old World. “Not many people keep books like this around anymore. Most think they’re just stories.”
“That’s because they are just stories,” I said, arching an eyebrow.
His lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Are they?”
I groaned. “Oh, great. Cryptic Timothy is back. I was almost starting to like the normal version of you.”
He set the book down, his gaze shifting to me. “What do you know about your family, Iviel?”
The question caught me off guard. “What does my family have to do with any of this?”
“Humor me,” he said, leaning against the counter.
I sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Not much to tell. My parents opened this bookstore before I was born. It’s been in the red for years, but I keep it running because it’s all I have left of them. They died in a car crash when I was twelve. End of story.”
Timothy frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And before them?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. We’re not exactly the kind of family that kept detailed records. Why does it matter?”
“Because curses like mine don’t happen in isolation,” he said, his tone serious. “Magic leaves marks, Iviel. Sometimes it’s subtle, like an unusual talent or a streak of bad luck. Sometimes it’s more obvious.”
I scoffed. “Are you saying my family is magical?”
“I’m saying it’s possible,” he replied. “Think about it. Of all the people in Evermoor, you’re the one who found me. You’re the one who brought me here. That’s not a coincidence.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words stuck in my throat. He wasn’t wrong—Evermoor wasn’t exactly a bustling metropolis.
What were the odds that I, of all people, would stumble across him?
“Even if you’re right,” I said finally, “what does that mean for me?”
“It means you might be more connected to this than you realize,” he said, his amber eyes boring into mine. “And if you are, the wolves will come for you too.”
A chill ran down my spine. “Well, that’s just fantastic.”
Timothy straightened, his expression softening slightly. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Iviel. You have my word.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly betting the farm on the word of a guy who glows in the dark,” I muttered.
He chuckled softly, the sound surprisingly warm. “Fair enough.”
Before I could respond, Nimbus trotted into the room, carrying something in his mouth. He dropped it at my feet and sat back, his tail swishing like he expected praise.
I bent down, picking up the object. It was a small, carved wooden charm shaped like a crescent moon.
“Where did you get this?” I asked, holding it up to the light.
Nimbus meowed, rubbing against my leg.
Timothy’s expression darkened. “That’s not just any charm.”
I looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“It’s a ward,” he said, taking a step closer. “Old magic, used for protection. But this one…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing.
“But what?” I pressed.
“It’s broken,” he said, pointing to a crack that ran through the center of the charm. “Whoever placed it didn’t finish the spell.”
I stared at the charm, unease settling in my chest. “Why would Nimbus bring me this?”
“I don’t know,” Timothy said, his tone grim. “But I think we’re about to find out.”
As if on cue, the fog outside the window thickened, pressing against the glass like a living thing. A low growl echoed from somewhere in the distance, sending a shiver down my spine.
Timothy tensed, his eyes glowing faintly. “They’re here.”
I swallowed hard, clutching the broken charm tightly. “The wolves?”
He nodded, his jaw tightening. “Stay close to me, Iviel. No matter what happens, do not leave my side.”
Nimbus hissed, arching his back as the growl grew louder. My heart raced as I glanced toward the door, half expecting it to burst open at any moment.
“Timothy,” I said, my voice shaking, “please tell me you have a plan.”
“I do,” he said, his voice steady. “But you’re not going to like it.”
The growling intensified, and I felt the weight of the charm in my hand like a lifeline.
“Try me,” I said, gripping the charm tighter.
Timothy’s eyes locked onto mine, his expression fierce. “We fight.”
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To be continued...
- Writer
