Chapter One - Midnight

Luxiana Sommeris

The library was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of pages turning. I sat at my desk in the dimly lit corner of the grand old library, the soft golden light of my lamp casting shadows that flickered across the shelves. 

Towers of books surrounded me—ancient texts, forgotten manuscripts, and half-finished catalog cards. 

The faint smell of parchment and ink filled the air, grounding me as I reached for another fragile volume, its spine cracked from time and wear.

I have always loved this place. The silence, the order, the sense that here, nothing could touch me. It was a haven, a place to hide from the chaos of the outside world. 

A place where my mind could wander freely between the pages of stories that weren’t my own. But lately, even the comforting isolation of the library couldn't keep away the strange, unsettling dreams.

I have always had sleep paralysis, but I lost it after I immersed myself through working. I was always paranoid that I would see something out of the ordinary in the middle of my paralysis, but there was none. It was like that before but it has changed.

The first one had come weeks ago, starting as nothing more than a fragment of a memory—a shadowy figure standing at the edge of my vision, watching me. 

He never moved, never spoke, but his presence lingered long after I woke. Then the dreams began to deepen, morphing into something darker, more vivid. 

Nights became battlegrounds of emotion and fear, as the shadow would draw closer, his face a blur of impossible details. 

And each time, I felt as though he was not just watching my dream but that he belonged there—like he was waiting for something.

I sighed, rubbing my temples as I tried to shake the lingering unease from last night’s dream. The figure had been closer than ever, and this time, I swore I had heard him whisper my name.

I hadn’t told anyone about the dreams. What would I even say? That I was being haunted by something I couldn’t describe? I could imagine how ridiculous it would sound.

“Luxiana?”

The voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Margaret, the head librarian, stood in front of my desk, peering down at me with concern. 

“You've been staring at that book for fifteen minutes. Are you alright? Have you eaten already?” She asked. 

Margaret is not just an employer to me; she has become like a mother, filling a void in my life that I didn’t know could be filled. 

When my grandmother passed away, my world shattered. I was still studying at the time, and the weight of financial struggles bore down on me. Losing my grandma was the most devastating moment of my life, a sorrow that wrapped around my heart like a heavy fog.

My grandmother was my everything; she raised me from the time I was a small child. I have no memories of my parents; they were but distant shadows in my life.

Margaret knew our state and offered me a part-time job at the library, a place I had always cherished. 

Even after graduating with a degree in education, I chose to remain in the library, for it is more than just a job for me; it is my sanctuary. 

I forced a smile, not wanting to worry her more. Margaret is getting old too. “I'm fine. Just… distracted, I guess.”

She gave me a knowing look. “You’ve been working late for weeks now. Why don’t you take some time off? Go outside, and breathe some fresh air. This place will still be here when you come back.”

“I might do that,” I lied. In truth, I didn't want to go home and the thought of leaving the library's comforting walls made me feel exposed. 

But Margaret was right—I had been staying late almost every night, trying to avoid sleep and the inevitable plunge back into the dream world.

Margaret hesitated, her brow furrowed, but then she nodded and walked away, leaving me alone with the books once again.

As the evening wore on, the library grew even quieter, the last of the patrons leaving until it was just me and the distant ticking of the clock. 

The shadows lengthened, creeping across the floor, and outside, the city hummed with life—faint sounds of distant cars and the murmur of late-night conversations. 

I should leave soon, I thought. But instead, I felt an inexplicable pull toward the older, restricted section of the library.

The restricted section was a place of mystery and exploration. Few had access to it, and even fewer ventured inside. It held the rarest and oldest books, ones that seemed to hum with the weight of centuries.

I wasn’t sure why, but I felt drawn there tonight. My feet moved almost of their own accord, carrying me toward the iron gate that separated the restricted area from the rest of the library.

My hand hovered over the gate’s latch. Why am I doing this? A voice in my head whispered. I had no reason to be here, and yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that something waited for me on the other side.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the gate and stepped inside.

The air was cooler here, thicker somehow, and the shelves loomed taller, filled with books that seemed untouched by time. 

I ran my fingers along the spines, my pulse quickening as my eyes scanned the unfamiliar titles. I had worked here for years, but there were books here I had never seen before.

Then, in the far corner, I spotted something. A single book, glowing faintly under the light of the overhead lamp. 

It was old, bound in dark leather, with no title on its cover. I reached for it, my fingers brushing the worn surface, and as soon as I touched it, a strange sensation surged through me—a tug, like a thread connecting me to something far away.

I opened the book, and my breath caught. The pages were filled with symbols I didn’t recognize, swirling and shifting as though alive. 

But more unsettling was the image at the center of the page—a figure, shadowed and indistinct, standing in the middle of what looked like a vast, endless dreamscape.

Suddenly, the room grew cold. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. My heartbeat quickened as the shadows in the corner of the room seemed to thicken, coalescing into a familiar form.

The figure from my dreams.

He stepped forward, emerging from the darkness, his tall frame clothed in shadows that clung to him like smoke. 

His eyes—dark, piercing—locked onto mine, and for the first time, I could see his face, sharp and beautiful, yet haunting in its intensity.

“Luxiana,” he said, his voice a deep, velvet whisper, sending a shiver down my spine.

I staggered back, the book slipping from my hands and hitting the floor with a dull thud. My breath hitched in my throat. “Who are you? How did you know my name?”

His lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

His words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. My mind raced. This couldn’t be real. This had to be another dream, didn’t it? I wasn’t asleep—was I?

As if he could sense the confusion swirling within me, he stepped closer, the shadows that surrounded him flickering and dancing in the dim light of the library. 

“My name is Damien,” he said, his voice smooth and inviting, like a soft caress brushing against my skin. “Your desire called out to me, and now I am bound to you.”

His words sent an icy chill racing down my spine, and I instinctively took a step back, my mind racing to grasp the situation. 

“M-my desire? What do you mean by that?” I stammered, a sense of panic bubbling up inside me.

“Your sexual desires,” he replied, an unsettling smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he continued to approach me. I stumbled backward again, trying to maintain some distance between us.

“I-I don’t have sexual desires! I haven’t been in a relationship long enough to think about such things!” I exclaimed, my face flushing with embarrassment.

“If that’s the case, then why am I here?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow with a teasing glint in his eye.

“I would like to ask you the same question! A-Am I dreaming?” I wondered aloud, unsure whether I was asking him or just trying to convince myself of the absurdity of the moment.

What on earth is happening?!

The figure from my dreams looked around the library with a mischievous glint before smirking at me. 

“I had no idea you were bold enough to fantasize while surrounded by shelves of books,” he remarked, his tone dripping with playful mockery.

As he stepped closer, my heart raced. It suddenly struck me just how bare his form was; he appeared almost as if he had stepped straight out of a dark romance novel, every detail of his physique strikingly perfect yet undeniably unsettling.

He has midnight-black hair contrasts with his deep, stormy blue eyes, and his majestic build looks too unrealistic. How come someone is that perfect?

But behind all my thoughts, I knew he was someone dangerous for my well-being.

I shakily raised a trembling finger toward him, my voice quivering with fear. “S-stay away! Miss Margaret, help!” I called out, desperately hoping that someone would hear me.

“Stop that. No one can hear you here aside from me, Luxiana,” Damien said, his voice low and intimate. “You will moan my name in the silence of this library.”

Before I could react, he leaned forward and licked my finger, then sucked it completely in his mouth. My eyes widened in shock, feeling as if they might pop right out of my head.

With a panicked scream, I turned to flee from him, my heart pounding in my chest, but I found myself disoriented and lost. 

Where the hell is the exit? Why does it feel like the library is closing in on me, the shelves looming taller and more menacing?

The sound of his footsteps echoed behind me, sending a jolt of fear through my body. I flinched at the noise, then spun around to face him. 

In a matter of moments, he had caught up with me, and it felt disturbingly strange how quickly he moved.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, “I am an incubus. Now, let me feed on you.” 

With that, he cornered me against my desk, his dark aura enveloping me as I realized I had nowhere to run.

To be continued…