Halo Librarian Novels & Stories

"Elara! You're safe. You're in the North Wing." I was drenched in sweat, my heart hammering against my ribs. The room felt crowded, though it was just the two of us. The "Sovereign Sight" was flickering wildly, silver sparks dancing in my vision like static. "I saw her, Kaelen," I gasped, clutching his forearms. "I saw Lyra. She’s... she’s the one sorting the memories. She’s the Librarian." "It was a dream, Elara. The Archivist is playing with the hole you left in your mind."

She looked up as we crashed onto the marble floor, her eyes—one gold, one silver—studying us with interest. "Well," she said, her voice like music and thunder combined. "This is unexpected. Escaped prisoners, a dying human, a guilt-ridden fledgling vampire, and—" Her mismatched eyes fixed on me. "—the little witch who opened the door. How fascinating." She set down her quill and stood, moving with a grace that made it clear she was something far more than human. "Welcome," she said, spreading her arms, "to the Library of Lost Deeds. I am the Librarian. And you, my unexpected guests, have a choice to make."

A lot of men you won't originally just come across and that alone shows how powerful even Halo's places were to give these men so much peace. I strode deeper into the club, making my way through a dimly lit corridor, untill I reached a large, lavish room. Halo was already there, sitting on one of the couches in the room, sipping from his glass of whiskey. He didn't look surprised to see me– then again, he never did. “Luca,” Halo greeted me, his voice calm with something lacing it. His intentions were always shown in his voice but it was hard to place a hand on it. “I didn't expect you so soon. What brings you into my den?”

"No way! This is more than enough for me!" However, my left pocket was empty. Panic set in as I checked my right pocket, and there was nothing there either. "My card's gone! And the keys too!" Just then, the dean, Mr. Robert Harrison, called me. "Cynthia, where are you?" he asked sharply. "The charity gala is about to start. Are you really going to make it this hard to find you? Vera went to get you herself, and you still didn't show up?"

The AB initials were drawn onto an open book with the kind of attention to detail that suggested either artistic talent or concerning levels of commitment to this bit. “That card represents full access to your personal collection,” she informed me with the solemnity of someone reading constitutional amendments. “Whenever I want.” “I see the hours are twenty-four-seven,” I noted, scanning the fine print. “And you’re entitled to personalized book recommendations from a qualified librarian at least twice monthly?” “Library policy,” she said, shrugging with fake innocence. “It’s laminated, so it’s legally binding and unchangeable.”

If someone wanted something from the other side, they would need to walk all the way to the end. Miracle scanned the list of book references hung at the information counter. History, history, history—her eyes lingered on the titles. And they soon fell on the librarian as he stopped tapping the keyboard, responding to her presence. "Yes? How may I help you?" he offered his assistance. "Oh, hey." Staring at his black lanyard, she looked for his name. "Thomas? May I know where can I get history books?" "History?" His elbow slipped, knocking the plastic mug off the table and onto the floor. "Oh shit!"

She didn't seem like the chirpy happy go lucky person, but you know what they say, 'Never judge a book by its cover'. "Good morning mam. How may I assist you on this lovely morning?" She asks while a bright cheerful smile is sporting her facial muscles. "I would like to know in which room I can find Miss Amia Crosswood." I say. "I believe she came in this morning around eight o'clock, she is in labour." I added. "I'm sorry mam, but if I may ask, what are you missing Crossword?" She asks. "Well uhm," taking a glance at her name tag "Leah Meyers, she is the woman carrying my husband's baby." I say in a quite stonelike manner.

She speedily looked away, blushing faintly, and quickly walked towards the entrance door embracing the paper bag she had been holding. “Hello Madame Sella, good morning,” Lianne said, greeting sweetly the lady librarian as she took out the books from the paper bag and placed it on the countertop. Madame Sella was in her forties but still single. A kind woman in her own way, she was like Lianne’s adviser of problems; almost like a mother she never had. “Oh, hello dear. You’ve come to return those books back I see,” the lady librarian answered. “What good timing. There were two students that kept on coming back here every hour checking if there is an available book of this edition already retu

she said, skeptically raising an eyebrow. The top floor of the library's restricted section was dark, haunting, and built entirely of maurium. There were maurium lamps scattered senselessly throughout the room without reason, sloppily hanging from wall hooks and set carelessly on shelves or tables, establishing an eerie purple glow throughout the presently deserted area. She glanced around the shadowed room. Bookcases filled with books, dust, and cobwebs lined the walls. There was a large table in the center with a mat on it along with a few stray books with pens and papers. There were piles of books on the ground surrounding the table and some of the shelves, some nearing the height of the

Lorian said as he led the way in that direction. The library was nothing short of amazing. Bookshelves that went from floor to ceiling staggered with windows of the same dimensions. At each set of windows was a place to sit very comfortably and enjoy both your book and the amazing view. Zalindra gave the collections of books a quick review and did not notice anything of importance or that would pique her interest. She didn’t know why but this made her very sad. Lucian seemed to pick up on this but said nothing because Zalindra took her glass of wine and downed it. She squared her shoulders as if preparing herself and began to speak.