Invisible Library Series Novels & Stories

᯽⊱❈═ E T H E L ═❈⊰᯽ A villain, that's what the little dragon said to her, that's what he suggested to her to thrones, to avoid that cold, sharp fate at her core; that crimson sheet on the floor spreading. "Thinking too much, violet?" the dragon wings that were so familiar just landed on the balcony, with an almost theatrical delicacy. "Overthinking is euphemism, dear..." the purple-eyed one sighed as she said "this all seems so...strange."

"Would you be so kind as to join us, please?" A moment later, a vampire with dark, curly hair, wearing an earring and a power suit stepped out from a ceiling-high partition wall behind Abbott's desk leading to a private office. "Michaels," I calmly said, as Zac pulled my back to his chest. "The amazing Abigail Starland!" Michaels replied, knowing he had me, as Abbott smiled. "Who the hell are you?" I asked the vamp posing as Abbott, my eyes narrowing, knowing full well it wasn't him.

It was the right guess. The laptop screen lit up again, revealing a folder titled “Project Umbra.” Her stomach lurched. This wasn’t just a document or some corporate files—this was something far more ominous. She clicked on it, holding her breath as the contents revealed themselves. The folder contained several subfolders, each with seemingly random names. But Isabella had learned to trust her instincts, and she immediately clicked on the folder labeled “Blackwood’s Archives.”

I can’t tell what she is thinking or feeling. I continued, “It might be a good idea to not look anyone in the eyes. Get a good mental picture of your mom and Moe. Then look for them and don’t think too much about what is going on around you.” I think that this all the time I have to explain what is going to happen next. I opened the double doors, and we walked into the inner sanctum of Club Voyeur.

the machine replied. Iris stepped into the hall, but she didn't head for the library. She followed the map. She moved past the kitchen and deep into a service corridor. She found the spot marked on the map—a corner behind a massive stone statue of a horse. She stepped behind it and looked up. The security camera was pointed away. She was invisible. She moved further, reaching a wall covered by a massive painting of a forest. Following the map’s instructions, she reached behind the frame and felt a cold, iron lever. She pulled. The wall swung inward.

Rows upon rows of forbidden texts stretched upward into the vaulted shadows, a labyrinth of forgotten knowledge hiding the ultimate puppet master. Vance was cornered against a massive, stained-glass window depicting the fall of Lucifer. The fading twilight filtered through the colored glass, painting his panicked face in jagged shards of deep crimson and sapphire blue. He was panting, his hand clawing at his chest where a sleek, biometric remote rested in his pocket. "Stay back!" Vance shouted, his voice cracking against the sacred silence of the library. "You think you’re free because you unlocked a genetic lock? I built the labyrinth! I own the exit!"

Nothing inside Sublevel Zero behaved without purpose. Every delay. Every silence. Every coincidence eventually revealed itself to be part of something larger. She slowly extended her hand. The moment her fingertips touched the glass, warmth spread beneath her skin. Not heat. Recognition. Tiny lines of light traveled beneath the surface of the case, weaving together into intricate patterns that spread outward like roots searching through soil. No alarms sounded. No locks disengaged. Instead, the glass simply dissolved into countless particles of light before disappearing completely. The archive remained silent. Evelyn closed her eyes briefly.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐝𝐞 The library of the monastery was a sanctuary of cooling stone and the scent of drying ink, but the air felt charged with a different kind of static. At the outside, the rhythmic thrum of the IMF gunships acted as a heavy, metronomic reminder that the hour was bleeding away. In the Inside, the light of a dozen beeswax candles flickered over the vellum pages of the Legacy Bank, illuminating a section that Maya had never seen before; a hidden leaf of translucent parchment that only appeared when exposed to the specific heat of the library’s geothermal hearth.

"I’ll stay here and make sure the 'New Board' understands the meaning of a bad investment." Verina looked at the stone staircase, then at the girl from the tank, who was already lunging for Silas with a scream of high-frequency static. But as Verina descended into the darkness, she saw a second figure emerging from the shadows of the stacks,a woman in a red coat, holding a second mechanical key and a vial of the "Archive" fluid. "The debt is never paid in full, little bird," her mother’s voice echoed through the Reading Room, sounding more triumphant than ever. "And the library is about to have a very messy late f*e."

I say. "I am the Crest Pack Historian," Ivy says. "I have credentials." River makes the conversational sound again. She is still watching the ceiling. Still feeling the building. And in the quiet of the library I find myself thinking: if someone removed those pages to protect something, what were they afraid the gold eyes would reveal?