Felix is stuck in a never-ending cycle of job applications, rejection letters, and the crushing weight of existential dread. When a job offer magically appears in his inbox with a salary so ridiculously high it could pay off his student loans and bu...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The Library of Beginnings might've had an impressive name, but after what felt like hours of pouring over dusty old tomes, Felix was starting to think it should've been called the Library of Unending Boredom. He stifled a yawn, squinting at the pages in front of him, feeling as if he was seeing triple. The ancient script was a nightmare to read, with the kind of flowery, looping handwriting that looked more like art than actual text. Words? What words?
"This is ridiculous," he muttered, flipping a page with a little more force than necessary, but not enough to rip it off. Almost. "Who writes like this? Were quills just really hard to control back in the day?"
He paused, glancing around the room as if expecting the mysterious woman to pop out of the shadows and lecture him on respecting ancient artifacts; she seemed like the type. But the library was as empty as ever, save for the faint sound of his own breathing and the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards.
God, he wasn't the studious type. He needed divine intervention, or something.
"Alright," he sighed, rubbing his eyes. He checked his phone and bemoaned the lack of a cignal. "No choice but to try this again."
He leaned closer to the book, forcing himself to focus. The symbols in the margins seemed to shift slightly when he wasn't looking directly at them, almost as if they were alive. That was unsettling enough, but almost everything here was "alive", and the text itself wasn't much better. It was all about the history of Wishmaking—how the art had been passed down through generations, protected by secret societies and ancient covenants; all flowery and riddled with academic fluff.
Most of it read like a weird mix of a fairy tale and a conspiracy theory. It was a lot of talk about 'sacred duties' and 'maintaining the balance'—all of which Felix found annoyingly vague and absolutely unhelpful! He'd been hoping for some clear instructions, maybe a step-by-step guide on how not to screw up this whole Wishmaker gig?? But so far, all he had were a bunch of cryptic warnings and a headache.
He looked at the decorated, painting ceiling. Chandeliers. Velvet curtains. Money. Think about the money, Felix!
"Fantastic," he muttered, slamming the book shut. "All that and I'm still clueless."
He leaned back in his chair, letting his head rest against the high, carved backrest. His eyes drifted up to the ceiling, where the wooden beams were dark with age, their surfaces carved with more of those intricate symbols. He wondered if they meant anything or if the decorators had just gone overboard.
"Okay, focus," he told himself, sitting up straight. "There's gotta be something useful in here."
He reached for another book, this one smaller and bound in deep red leather. It looked newer, with pages that didn't feel like they'd crumble in his hands. The title was embossed in gold on the cover: The Elements of Wishmaking: A Beginner's Guide.
