Shadows in the Glass

Chapter 12 - Where Whispers Linger

Aurelia's mind wonders as she steps toward the daunting library. She remembers why she is doing this, regardless of the risks.

The castle library was unnervingly silent, the only sound the faint rustle of pages as Aurelia flipped through another ancient tome. The words on the page seemed to blur together, their meanings tantalisingly out of reach. She had been at this for hours, chasing fragments of her clan's history, but most of what she found was vague, shrouded in metaphor or outright missing.

Until now.

Her fingers froze on a page that felt different, the ink darker, heavier, as if it had been etched with urgency. Her eyes scanned the lines, her pulse quickening with each word:

"When the last goddess walks, bound by dreams and blood,

Twin-born shall rise, their laughter a dirge, their gaze a tomb.

One will summon fire, the other, endless shadow,

And the world shall bow before the cycle begins anew."

The words sent a chill down her spine. She read them again, her breath catching in her throat.

"A prophecy," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

She had read about a prophecy in one of the tomes but it seemed that a part had been removed, a part she can only assume delved deeper into the secretes of the prophecy.

Aurelia stood at the threshold of the Library of Aetherra, the massive iron doors towering above her like the gates of a long-forgotten tomb. They groaned open at her touch, the sound reverberating through the twilight air and sending a shiver down her spine. The faint whispers began immediately, so soft she almost dismissed them as the wind. But they weren't coming from outside—they were inside her mind, faint and indistinct, but growing louder with each step.

The library's interior was vast and endless, shelves stretching into a void above her, their tops swallowed by shadows. Each shelf was lined with tomes that pulsed faintly, as though imbued with the remnants of the knowledge they contained. The air was unnaturally heavy, thick with a metallic tang that clung to the back of her throat. Aurelia hesitated, her gaze drawn to the glimmering paths winding between the towering shelves. They shifted subtly, as if alive, rearranging themselves in response to her presence.

She stepped forward, her boots clicking softly on the cold, obsidian floor. The whispers grew louder, threads of fragmented words weaving together into something just beyond comprehension. She swore she could hear her name among them, spoken in voices that weren't her own.

"Aurelia... lost... forsaken... destined..."

The words pressed against her skull, insistent yet fleeting, leaving her unsure if she'd heard them at all. Her fingers brushed against a glowing sigil on a nearby shelf, and a jolt of warmth shot through her palm. The sensation was both comforting and deeply unsettling, like the distant memory of a mother's touch—soft, fleeting, and utterly unreachable.

Her gaze fell on an alcove marked by a glowing symbol: a crescent moon entwined with a tree, its branches curling like veins. The sight of it sent a pang through her chest, a feeling both alien and achingly familiar. She stepped closer, drawn to it by a force she couldn't explain. Her fingers traced the sigil, and for a moment, the whispers stopped. Silence filled the space, heavy and expectant.

Inside the alcove, Aurelia stands before the towering shelves of the Library of Aetherra, an ominous presence seems to pulse through the ancient stones. Shadows dance at the edges of her vision, and the air grows heavy with the weight of countless untold stories. She takes a tentative step forward, her heart hammering in her chest as she reaches out to trace her fingers along the weathered spines of the books.