Chapter 2: The Call of the Unseen
The bell's echo still hummed in Evan's bones as he trailed behind Selene through the labyrinthine halls of Solstice Academy. Their footsteps were swallowed by the thick silence, the kind that settled over places where too many secrets had been whispered.
She left him at the door of his assigned quarters—a narrow room with a single arched window overlooking the storm-lashed grounds. The furnishings were sparse: a wrought-iron bed, a desk scarred with generations of carved initials, and a bookshelf filled with volumes that sighed when he ran his fingers along their spines.
"Orientation at midnight," Selene had said. "Don't be late."
Midnight. An odd hour for a welcoming.
Evan waited until the last reverberation of Selene's footsteps faded before shrugging off his coat. The room was cold, the fireplace empty. He pressed his palm to the hearthstone out of habit, murmuring the incantation his father had taught him. A spark flickered—then died.
Nothing.
He frowned. Storm magic had never failed him before.
A knock at the door startled him.
"Not locked," he called.
The door creaked open to reveal a girl with wild copper curls and a jacket that looked like it had been stitched together from a dozen different fabrics. Aria Vance leaned against the doorframe, grinning.
"New meat," she said, tossing an apple from hand to hand. "You're either very brave or very stupid, coming here early."
Evan raised an eyebrow. "So I've been told."
Aria took a loud bite of the apple, juice glistening on her chin. "Selene give you the whole 'curiosity is a currency' speech?" At Evan's silence, she snorted. "Yeah. She loves that one."
She pushed off the doorframe and sauntered in, her boots leaving damp prints on the floorboards. "Listen, if you want to survive here, you'll need two things." She held up a finger. "One: friends." A second finger joined the first. "And two: secrets. Preferably other people's."
Evan folded his arms. "And you're offering the first to get the second?"
Aria's grin widened. "Smart. I like you." She tossed the apple core out the window. "Come on. There's something you should see before orientation."
She led him through corridors that twisted like a living thing, the walls pressing closer the deeper they went. The air grew thick with the scent of old paper and something sweetly rotten.
"Where—"
"Shh." Aria pressed a finger to her lips as they reached a dead end. She traced a sigil onto the stone—a crescent moon with a slash through it. The wall shivered.
Then it opened.
The Hidden Library.
Evan's breath caught. The room yawned before them, shelves stretching into impossible darkness, ladders sliding along the stacks of their own accord. Books floated midair, pages fluttering like caged birds.
And at the center of it all, bathed in the glow of a single hovering orb of light, stood Isolde Renard.
She turned at their entrance, her platinum braid slipping over one shoulder. Round glasses magnified her ice-blue eyes, making her gaze all the more piercing.
"Aria," she said, voice soft as turning pages. "You weren't supposed to bring anyone."
Aria shrugged. "He's cute. And clever." She nudged Evan forward. "Evan, meet Isolde. Isolde, Evan. Play nice."
With that, she vanished back through the wall, leaving Evan alone with the librarian's assistant.
Isolde studied him for a long moment before sighing. "She does this," she murmured, more to herself than to him. "Finds strays."
Evan stepped further into the library, drawn by the whisper of parchment. "What is this place?"
"A graveyard," Isolde said, trailing her fingers along a shelf. "For books they don't want found." She plucked a volume from the air—its cover bound in what looked like human skin—and offered it to him. "Or remembered."
Evan took it. The moment his fingers brushed hers, a jolt went through him—sharp as lightning, hot as embers. Isolde gasped, her glasses slipping down her nose.
The book fell between them, pages splaying open to reveal an illustration: a robed figure standing over a body, a dagger plunged into its chest. Blood pooled in the shape of a sigil—the same one Aria had drawn on the wall.
Evan reached for it at the same moment Isolde did. Their hands collided.
Then—
Her lips were on his, fierce and sudden. The taste of ink and something metallic flooded his mouth. For a heartbeat, the library, the academy, the storm outside—all of it fell away.
Isolde pulled back first, her breath ragged. "That shouldn't have happened," she whispered.
A bell tolled in the distance.