I froze on the spot, I nearly jumped out of my skin.
The voice had come from right behind me—low, tired, almost resigned. Not threatening, but heavy with something that sounded like long years of seeing too much.
Slowly, very slowly, I turned.
Miss Miora stood there, half-hidden in the shadow between two towering shelves. She was still in her gray uniform, but the collar was unbuttoned now, sleeves rolled up, and she held an old leather-bound book against her chest like a shield. Her face looked even more exhausted in the dim mana-light—lines around her eyes deeper, hair escaping its tight bun in tired strands.
She didn't move closer. Just watched me, as if waiting to see what I would do.
For a long second neither of us spoke.
Then she sighed, the sound heavy and worn.
"Didn't mean to scare you, Eryndor," she said quietly. "I come here sometimes after curfew. When the halls are empty. Helps me think."
I swallowed, my hand still resting protectively on 'Forbidden Runes of the Abyss'. "You… read here at night?"
"Sometimes." She glanced at the book in my hands, then back at my face. "But that one? That's not the kind of reading that helps anyone think clearly."
I looked down at the cover. The runes seemed to shift again, almost lazily, like they were breathing. My stomach twisted.
"You said I shouldn't be here," I said, voice low. "With this book. Why?"
Miss Miora stepped one pace closer, lowering her voice even though the library was empty.
"Because some books don't just teach. They… listen. And they remember. That one's been here longer than I have. Longer than most of the professors. And every student who reads too much of it ends up changed. Not always for the better."
She looked at me—really looked at me, like she was trying to see past the hair, the piercings, the uniform.
"You're already different," she said. "Undefined affinity. Late arrival. That hair. People talk. And books like that? They're drawn to people who don't fit. Anomalies. Glitches."
The word hit me like a slap.
Glitch.
She didn't know. Couldn't know.
But the way she said it…
I forced my voice steady. "You're not going to report me?"
Miss Miora gave a small, tired laugh. "Report you? For what? Reading a book? I've got enough paperwork. And honestly…" She hesitated, then continued more quietly. "I was you once. F-Class. No bloodline. No family. I found books like that too. Thought they'd give me an edge. They gave me nightmares instead."
She looked away, toward the darkened aisles.
"Lost someone to one of them," she said, almost to herself. "My brother. He read too deep. Started hearing voices. Seeing things. One day he walked into a rift and didn't come back."
The silence stretched.
I didn't know what to say.
Finally, she looked back at me. "So no, I'm not reporting you. But I'm telling you the same thing someone told me: Put it back. Burn it if you have to. Before it starts whispering back."
I glanced down at the book again. The runes pulsed once, slow and deliberate.
It already did.
I met her eyes. "Someone else is watching me. Two third-years—Elara and Lyra. They said the same thing. That I should be careful."
Miss Miora's expression shifted—just a flicker, but I caught it. Recognition.
"Thorne and Solstice," she said. "Elara's Professor Thorne's sister. Lyra's a commoner who climbed fast. They're good kids. Too curious, maybe. But they're not the ones you need to worry about most."
She stepped back, clutching her own book tighter.
"The academy has eyes everywhere, Eryndor. Some are friendly. Some… aren't. And some aren't even human anymore."
My throat went dry.
She gave me one last look—tired, almost sad.
"Put the book back," she repeated. "Or at least don't read it alone. And Eryndor?"
I looked up at her
"Don't stay up to late" she said.
Then she turned and walked away, her footsteps fading into the shadows between the shelves.
I sat there, heart thudding, the book suddenly feeling heavier than before.
I flipped it open again—just one page—and the runes pulsed faintly, almost in rhythm with my pulse.
A chill crept up my spine.
I snapped it shut.
But I didn't put it back.
I stored it in the ring.
And somewhere deep inside, I knew It was already too late to back away.
As I stood to leave, the library felt colder. The mana-lanterns dimmed slightly, as if the room itself was exhaling. I walked between the shelves, the silence pressing in.
Then I felt it again.
Not Elara and Lyra who were the four eyes from before.
Something else.
A presence. Not human.
It moved in the shadows—low to the ground, silent, deliberate. I didn't see it, but I felt it: a weight, a curiosity, a hunger. My hand drifted to Celestite Fang at my belt, fingers brushing the hilt.
I quickened my pace, heart hammering.
Whatever it was, it followed me—slipping between shelves, staying just out of sight.
I reached the library door, pushed it open, and stepped into the corridor.
The presence stopped at the threshold, as if it couldn't—or wouldn't—cross.
I didn't look back.
But I knew it was still there.
Watching.
Waiting.