Queen of the zodiac ( zodiac city duology #1) [ undergoing revamping]

~sept~

Brooke

The morning sun filtered through the class windows, casting a gentle glow over the rows of books and the tv screens projections on the board. I sat at one of the tables, still feeling the effects of last night's party. Sleepiness hung in the air, evident on the faces of my friends. Denisha took a seat beside me, and though we weren't close, there was a silent acknowledgment of our friendship at the party

The professor's entrance interrupted our sleepy contemplations. His topic, the history of the Zodiac City, usually failed to captivate my attention, but today was different. He delved into the enigmatic realm of the Descendants, and my drowsiness faded as curiosity took over. Glancing at Denisha, I noticed a spark of intrigue in her eyes. The Descendants, shrouded in mystery, had suddenly become the focal point of our interest.

The professor spoke of the Descendants' formation, how they were cast away by the gods, and how little was known about their divided groups-werewolves, vampires, faeries, and witches. Denisha muttered "liars" under her breath. I frowned, that was a wild accusation

I raised my hands up at the professor, my inquiry genuine. "Did the library hold any books that might contain the history of the Descendant City?"
His negative response left me disheartened. Denisha sighed in frustration, and I couldn't help but wonder why she was so intensely interested in this topic all of a sudden.

The door swung open and I was greeted by the sight of Celeste, a figure from my past that I had hoped to leave behind. Our history was riddled with rivalry, and the mere presence of each other was enough to ignite sparks.

"Brooke," she hissed, her gaze locked onto mine as a sly grin formed on her lips. I returned her look with a dismissive smile. "Celeste," I replied, my tone dripping with indifference. Our exchanges had always been a blend of snark and sarcasm.

A flash of annoyance crossed Celeste's features, her brows furrowing in irritation. "What are you looking at?" she quipped, her voice laced with venom.

I couldn't resist the opportunity to employ my trademark sarcasm. "Nothing in particular," I retorted, my voice dripping with insouciance. "You're not worth looking at."

The class giggled and the professor cleared his throat as a warning to us

Celeste's response was a crude one, involving a raised middle finger, before she sauntered away. Despite the momentary amusement, I found her antics more irritating than amusing. Our history was fraught with rivalry, and I had little patience for her theatrics.

--

With my next class canceled, I had a free period, which I decided to spend in the library. The familiar scent of old books greeted me as I ventured into the vast repository of knowledge. Despite my determination, the trepidation of encountering those mysterious figures gnawed at me.

I convinced Maylee to accompany me to the library, where we started our search. I held her hand as we ventured further into the maze of shelves, where forgotten knowledge lay dormant. We searched tirelessly, pulling out dusty volumes and scanning their contents. Minutes felt like hours, and Maylee's patience wore thin.

Frustration crept over her face as she announced her departure. I gave her a nod, silently thanking her for her company, but the moment she left, I felt a sudden, inexplicable urge. It was as if an invisible force guided me toward a certain section of the library.

And then I saw it.

The purple book lay there, no longer hovering mysteriously but instead resting silently on the floor. My heart skipped a beat. How had it appeared here, and why did it seem to call out to me? I couldn't resist its pull, and with trembling hands, I picked it up and hurried to a nearby table.

As I sat there, the book in front of me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The black figures from my previous encounters seemed like distant nightmares, yet their presence lingered. Jamal and Kade, accompanied by Damien, approached the table, oblivious to the secrets I held.

The moment they arrived, I inexplicably closed the book and stuffed it into my bag. It was as if an unspoken understanding passed between us, urging me to keep this discovery hidden. A newfound instinct compelled me, as if this book held secrets that were meant for me alone.

Later, in the safety of my dormitory, I finally mustered the courage to open the book. The sight that greeted me was both astonishing and unsettling. On the cover was a depiction of my snake tattoo, an image I knew all too well. The title, "History of the Descendants (Witches)," sent shivers down my spine. How had this book found its way into the library when all knowledge of the Descendants was thought to be nonexistent?

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