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64 | THE HEROES AND VILLAINS THAT MAKE US
WINTERFELL was one of the first people to arrive back at the school. The girl did not waste any time pulling her clothing off as well as washing the makeup off her face. She traded the uncomfortable gown for a pair of denim jeans, a large comfortable sweater, and sand shoes.
Her hair was loose as she ripped through the library, specifically in the section of villains, looking for one particular name.
Helga Sinclair.
The name whirled throughout her mind as she allowed her fingers to graze over the backs of many books, each holding long and winding tales and histories of every villain that ever was.
The Auradon Prep library was enormous, after all, once upon a time it once a gift from King Adam to Queen Belle. Back when their own story was still unfolding and King Adam was but a cursed beast.
The library has grown immensely since then. Section after section — row upon row of books of all forms and conditions. Some books were older than the castle itself while some were so new they had yet to even been read.
The library had many different sections — a history section that held a row of stories of the heroes, another row for royalty, another row for mystical tales, another of legends... but Winter stood in the darkest row.
The area was shrouded in shadows with books that were anything but colorful. Winter was anything but afraid... well that was a bit of a lie as she was slightly scared of the darkness now... but she had visited this row in the library so many times that the fear was small.
Histories intrigued her, and admittedly, she was always slightly more intrigued by the villain's tale rather than the heroes.
Her figure stopped, her long hair whispy and falling down her back. Had she been short, then her hair would be long enough to fall to her waist. Thankfully, she was not short but rather her lean and tallish figure allowed for her hair to stop mid-back.
Her fingers ghosted over a particular book, a dark book with a spine that was falling apart.
She began to shake lightly, but she still grabbed hold of the book — a history that she had never dared to touch in fear.
His laughter rang in her head once more — her screams echoing.
Swallowing back her fear, Winterfell made a choice. Seeing as Wenlock was officially back, she had to do this. Grasping the book, she pulled it free causing dust to billow around. That in itself was a sign that this book had not been touched for ages.
The book was simple, it was black with a title woven on the front in dark brown lettering.
