Ashwyck Academy for the Damned
If answers existed, they would be buried in these aisles.
I moved between the stacks, fingertips grazing cracked leather spines: On Dream Divination, The Veil Between, Bloodlines of the Forgotten Courts. Each title was a quiet dare. I gathered a few to the reading table and opened them one by one, chasing some thread that might explain why the Academy whispered to me in sleep, why flames stalked me in dreams.
The hours blurred. Outside, dawn crept toward the horizon, but the library kept its eternal twilight. I bent over a book of astral lore, translating a passage about “souls stitched to the Shadow Realm,” when a faint sound broke the silence.
Bab Populer