Chapter Twenty One

Jasper's POV

Lyra had that look again, where her eyes were distant and her brows pinched together.

She had that look all morning while sitting on the edge of the stone bench outside of Alexandria house and flipping through her grimiore and some old looking slightly burnt book and muttering under her breath occasionally.

I leaned against the edge of the doorway and watched her with arms crossed watching her quietly muttering to herself again for the thousand time.

“She's... Spiraling” I said to no one in particular and Maria glanced up from where she was grinding herbs. “She’s learning Jasper”

“Nah” I corrected. “She’s missing context and she hates missing context”

As if right on cue, Lyra groaned and dropped her notebook onto her lap “There are gaps” she said, as if continuing a conversation we’d already been having. “Spells don’t just… exist Cus they’re built on belief systems like culture, histories... I need to understand the framework”

Maria smiled faintly. “Most witches don’t question the framework though they just accept it”

Lyra shot her a look, “And that’s how people end up possessed”

I couldn’t help it and I laughed.

She turned to look at me, “Don’t encourage me”

“Oh, I absolutely will” I said. “In fact, I have the perfect solution”

Her eyes sharpened. “That tone means trouble”

“Education” I said brightly.

She blinked. “What?”

“There’s a university in town” I went on. “Old one. Ridiculously old and the library?” I whistled. “Multiple floors, restricted sections, mythology archives. The kind of place that smells like dust and bad decisions”

Her expression shifted immediately interest flickering into something brighter.

Maria frowned. “I don’t think that’s—”

“We’ll be careful” I cut in smoothly. “In and out, purely academic”

Lyra stood so fast the bench scraped the ground. “We’re going. Right now.”

Maria sighed the long-suffering sigh of someone who knew resistance was futile. “At least take protection charms”

Lyra was already grabbing her coat.

The town felt different in daylight.

Still quiet and old. But alive in a subtle way. People moving behind windows, carts rattling down stone roads, the distant echo of church bells. The university loomed above it all, carved from pale stone, ivy creeping up its sides like it was trying to reclaim the place.

Lyra slowed as we approached the entrance.

“You feel it” I said.

She nodded. “It’s… dense. Like layers”

“Centuries of people asking the wrong questions” I replied. “You’ll fit right in”

Inside, the library swallowed sound.

Every step echoed too softly, like the building itself was listening. Shelves stretched impossibly high, ladders bolted to rails, shadows pooling in corners where the light didn’t quite reach.

Lyra’s breath caught.

“This place remembers” she whispered.

I watched her closely as she moved forward, fingers brushing along spines, eyes scanning titles faster than most people could read. She wasn’t browsing but was searching.

“I’m going to check the historical records” I said. “You take mythology. Supernatural classifications usually hide there”

She nodded absently, already drifting away.

I let her go but not far.

Something about this place itched under my skin. Not danger exactly but more like anticipation.

The mythology section sat deeper in the library, where the shelves grew narrower and the air colder. I kept to an adjacent aisle, pretending to skim texts while keeping her in my peripheral vision.

Lyra stopped and… froze.

Her hand hovered inches from a book.

I felt it then, a pressure shift. Like the room had leaned closer.

“Lyra?” I called softly.

She didn’t respond.

I stepped closer. “Hey. You good?”

Her voice came out distant. “Do you hear that?”

I listened. There was nothing. No whisper. No movement.

“No” I said carefully. “What do you hear?”

“It’s not sound” she murmured.

That made my spine tighten.

I followed her gaze to the book. It didn’t belong.

The others were worn, faded, labeled in neat script. This one was darker, the leather cracked and uneven, its spine completely blank. No dust or markings.

“Okay,” I said, keeping my tone light even as my instincts screamed. “Let’s not touch the creepy, unlabeled object in the ancient magic library”

She swallowed. “It feels like it already touched me”

I took another step forward. “Lyra, seriously…” I shuddered in goosebumps.

Her fingers closed around the spine.

The moment she pulled it free, the air shifted.

.

The shelf opposite her seemed to deepen, shadows folding inward like fabric being drawn aside.

I opened my mouth to shout and then she saw it.

On the other side of the shelf.

A face.

Watching her.