The library smelled of damp paper, dust, and something older, something that felt alive. Mohamed stepped inside, his coat still dripping from the morning rain. The events of the previous night clung to him like a second skin—the adrenaline, the visions, the unearthly whispers. His pulse still thundered.
Selene waited for him near the center of the room, her violet eyes glimmering in the dim light. She didn't move, didn't speak, but Mohamed felt her gaze like a physical force pressing into his chest.
"You survived," she said finally, her voice soft, almost playful, yet carrying a weight that made him flinch. "That's good. But surviving is not enough." She stepped closer, violet hair brushing her shoulders. "Controlling yourself… that's everything."
"I… I don't know if I can," Mohamed admitted, voice trembling. "They were too fast. Too strong."
Selene tilted her head. "Then learn." She snapped her fingers, and a book hovered off the shelf, opening itself. The pages shimmered like liquid, rearranging words and sentences before his eyes. "Memories are more than recollections. They are tools, weapons… prisons. Every one you retrieve has a cost."
Mohamed frowned. "Cost?"
Her smile was faint, almost cruel. "You already feel it. A memory you retrieve is a thread. Pull too hard, and it can unravel your mind. Lose control… and it will consume you."
She gestured to the vast expanse of shelves. Mohamed blinked and felt the room shift. The library stretched impossibly high, the books floating slightly above the shelves as if aware of his presence. One fragment of a memory drifted toward him: a small child running through a burning village. Smoke choked the air, screams echoed, the heat of fire burned his skin, though he had never been there.
"Anchor yourself," Selene said, voice sharp. "Do not let it control you. Make it yours."
Mohamed's hand trembled as he reached for the floating fragment. It resisted, writhing like a living thing, pulling at him, threatening to overwhelm his mind. This… this is horrible… but I can do it.
Slowly, painfully, he forced it to focus. The flames froze, the screaming dimmed, the child's eyes locked with his. He could see fear—but also hope, a tiny spark of life untouched by tragedy. For the first time, he realized something. Power wasn't just strength. Power was understanding. Control. Responsibility.
Selene circled him, watching carefully. "Good. But remember, each memory you reclaim is a doorway. Some doors lead to strength. Others… to darkness. And the Eclipsed Order… they know every door you open."
Mohamed swallowed. "I don't… I don't understand. Why me? Why now?"
Selene's violet eyes softened for a fraction of a second. "Because you can choose. You can walk a path they never expected. You can shape this world… or be destroyed by it. That is what makes you dangerous."
A sudden crash echoed through the library. Dust and books fell from the shelves. Shadows twisted along the walls like living things. Mohamed flinched.
"Another attack?" he asked, voice tight.
Selene's expression didn't change. "The Eclipsed Order does not forget. They test, they probe. Whenever a new player awakens… they will always know."
The shadows moved closer, and Mohamed felt his stomach tighten. His mind screamed, I can't fail… not now… not ever.
He focused, calling forth the fragments of memories he had anchored. Images from the past, flashes of running through alleys, battlefields he never knew he had been on—they swirled around him. Slowly, painfully, they coalesced into a shield of shimmering light. The shadows recoiled, hissing, striking but finding no purchase.
I can control it… I can fight them… he thought.
Selene's hand flashed as she struck, a dagger moving like liquid through the air. Two agents dissolved into shadow, shrieking silently before vanishing. "Good," she said. "But that is only the beginning. You must go further. Faster. Stronger."
She guided him to a cluster of books that hovered in midair, titles flickering: Memories of Power, Shadows of the Past, The Mind's Labyrinth. Mohamed reached for one tentatively. The moment his fingers brushed the cover, he was flooded with visions.
A city in ruins. Shadows walking like humans, eyes glowing red. Faces he didn't recognize, yet felt familiar. And then—himself. Older. Scarred. Standing before an army of shadows, wielding weapons he had never touched.
He staggered back. "I… I can't…"
Selene's gaze was unwavering. "No. You can. And you must. Fear is natural. But you cannot let it decide your path."
Mohamed's chest tightened. If I fail… if I lose control… what happens?
"You become a shadow," she said softly. "A memory without an owner. Consumed by the very thing you sought to master."
He tried to focus, grounding himself in fragments of calmer memories: rain-soaked streets, his mother's voice, the smell of wet earth, laughter of friends he barely remembered. Slowly, painfully, the chaos of visions began to align. He could feel the memories bending, not overwhelming him, but flowing like water around a stone.
He reached out with his mind, molding a fragment into a physical projection. The image of a small flame solidified in front of him, hovering in midair, alive yet controlled. Mohamed's heart raced. I… I did it.
Selene nodded approvingly. "Good. You are beginning to understand. Power is not taken. It is shaped. Controlled. And… anchored to your will."
The shadows outside intensified. Figures moved among the shelves, their forms partially hidden, watching, probing, testing. Mohamed's pulse spiked. They've found us… here… now…
Selene drew a small dagger, its blade reflecting violet light. "This will be your first real test. Control your memory… or it will control you."
Mohamed's hands shook as he summoned the fragments again. They surged outward, forming shields, barriers, and flashes of light that drove the shadows back. His pulse thundered in his ears. For the first time, he felt the thrill of power, and the cost of responsibility.
I can do this… I must…
From the far corner of the library, a new shadow moved—taller than the rest, cloaked, radiating presence. Mohamed's stomach tightened. He recognized it immediately from visions: the scarred figure of Ryoto Nobunga, an elite agent of The Eclipsed Order.
Ryoto stepped forward slowly, deliberately. "Interesting," he said, voice smooth, dangerous. "The boy awakens. And yet… so fragile."
Mohamed's hands trembled. He's real… and stronger than I imagined…
Selene's eyes darkened. "Do not underestimate him. He is one of the strongest. And he knows more than you can imagine."
Ryoto's eyes flickered red. "Control… or be destroyed. Let us see."
Mohamed felt his mind quiver, the fragments of memories pushing, resisting, threatening to explode. He could feel the pull of power, the seduction of strength, and the shadows pressing against him, probing for weakness.
Selene whispered: "Anchor yourself. Control the fear. Control the power… or it will consume you."
With a roar, Mohamed forced the fragments into coherence, bending reality in a small, shimmering dome around him. Shadows hissed, striking but unable to pierce. He felt the strain, the cost—the mental exhaustion—but also the surge of exhilaration.
I… am more than this… he thought.
Ryoto tilted his head, observing silently. "Not bad," he said softly. "But this… is only the beginning. The true game… starts now."
The library settled into a tense silence. Dust hung in the air. Mohamed's hands shook, sweat streaking his face, but his chest was alive with possibility. For the first time, he understood the weight of choice, the cost of power, and the lure of darkness.
Selene placed a hand on his shoulder. "Tomorrow, we push further. Today, you survived. Tomorrow… you will fight for control. And every step… will be watched."
Mohamed swallowed hard. He nodded, heart pounding, adrenaline and fear and thrill mixing together.
The Eclipsed Order will come for me… and I will be ready.