The Time Keeper

Chapter 41 - Five Fourty Eight

Pushing open the heavy wooden doors of the Leode Library, I was met with the familiar scent of aged parchment. The large room was quiet as expected, the only sounds being the soft shuffling of papers and the occasional cough of others immersed in their book.

My gaze fell upon Robin at the front desk, who was meticulously packing up a stack of books. Her glasses perched on her nose as she worked, and her attention was completely absorbed by the task at hand.

"Good afternoon," I greeted her as I approached.

She looked up, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Ah, Eli. Good to see you again. You've come at an interesting time. I'm just in the midst of rearranging some of our collection of language books. They're all so interesting to read and good to learn. Oh, well never mind that, what shall it be today?"

"I just need to go to the staff room," I replied, my voice steady.

She nodded, understanding the routine. "Of course, Eli. Feel free to take your time."

Once in the back room, I began to browse through the shelves. The books were organized meticulously, and I moved methodically down the aisles, searching for a title that had caught my attention.

But the shelves were vast, and I knew it could take hours to locate the exact book I was looking for. I needed a shortcut, a way to speed up the process. I touched my palms to my clothes, allowing myself to focus my energy and will on them. I then activated my ability and allowed myself to picture a fractured future in front of my eyes from the view of my clothing.

In the fracture that flashed before me, I saw a particular shelf, my arm reaching out and plucking a book from its place. The image was static, frozen in time, but it was clear enough for me to recognize the title and the shelf number.

With the scene imprinted in my mind, I made my way to the indicated shelf. And there it was—the book I had seen, waiting for me as if it had been expecting my arrival.

I reached for the book and pulled it out, the spine creaking slightly as the aged pages shifted. Dust billowed into the air, and I had to suppress a sneeze as I opened the cover.

The book was old, its pages yellowed with age and wear. A few of them seemed to cling to the spine, threatening to come loose with the slightest movement. I handled it delicately, turning the pages with care.

And then, as if fate had a different plan, a loose page slipped free from the book and began to flutter to the ground. Instinctively, I reached out and caught it before it could fall completely.

The page felt delicate between my fingers, the paper aged and brittle. As I looked at it, I realized that the writing on it was in a completely foreign language. Strange symbols and intricate lettering filled the page, forming words that seemed both foreign and ancient.

My heart quickened with excitement and a touch of frustration. I had been diligently studying Alexei's Language book, and thankful I had started to grasp the ancient arcanist languages. Although mastering it was still beyond my current grasp, I would be able to translate most of the page.

With a determined exhale, I mentally thanked Alexei for his guidance, and I focused on the symbols before me. I began to recognise the symbols on the page, faint echoes of my studies. The more I concentrated, the more the meaning of the text started to emerge from the fog of unfamiliarity.

My eyes then fell on the date at the top of the page. "12th of May, 548." It seemed to be a reference point, a date that held some significance in the context of the text. Could this be a diary or a record of some sort?