"Oh my, you really need to calm down every once in a while. It's starting to look like you're the one more worried about him than I am." Silvia's laughter was light yet similar to a beautiful chiming sound that seemed to dance through the dusty air of the antique shop, standing out from the heavy silence that had preceded it.

She leaned back against the polished counter, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement, yet her gaze reminded sharp as always, constantly trying to decipher Elaras expressions.

Elara, standing rigidly by a shelf of delicate, strange porcelain, scowled deeply, the expression carving harsh lines into her usually serene face. The scowl was her only answer.

Silvia was right, and that galled her most of all. She knew that It wasn't like her to let her icy façade crack, she never planned to let that simmering unease bubble over into visible frustration. She was supposed to be an anchor, the pragmatic one, unlike Silvia who was an unpredictable tide. To have their roles seemingly reversed was… disconcerting.

"If 'he' disagrees with it," Elara asked, holding back her internal thoughts for a moment.

Silvia didn't hesitate to answer. " then there's nothing left for us to do than to simply put him down. The situation remains unchanged till then. Sentiment has no place in this."

"But…" Silvia added, then paused, her gaze drifting to the door bordering the front and back of the shop, where she could vividly recall him leaving from. A rare, unguarded softness touched her features, one could even say that a ghost of a memory was playing in her violet eyes. "I do believe he has a chance, after all. He reminds me of 'him'—"

"You mean what he used to be," Elara shot back, the ridicule in her voice was obvious. "Before the weight of it all crushed the hope out of him."

" Before he understood the true cost of the path he chose." That young man may have the same reckless glint in his eye, even if he has the same arrogant belief that he can outwit the darkness. It's not a resemblance to be admired, Silvia. Plus, he's a human, do you really think he can withstand the same things he had?"

Silvia wasn't irritated by Elaras rude interruption. A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips, as if Elara had just confirmed a private theory. She simply snickered and took a soft, breath before saying nothing, from the looks of it, she wasn't interested in delving into such a subject.

Just when everywhere turned silent again, a silvery chime of the bell above the shop door was heard, signaling the arrival of someone. Moments later, Emily emerged from the back room, her child like smile filled with the same unadulterated joy. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hands were triumphantly full, cradling a paper bag that bulged with an assortment of colourful sweets and pastries.

"Mommy! Mommy, look what I bought!" Emily chirped, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, her energy infectious.

"Oh, dear," Silvia exclaimed, her demeanour instantly shifting to one of warm, maternal theatrics. She bent down, her skirts pooling around her, and swept Emily into her arms. "Isn't that a bit too much? You aren't planning on losing a few teeth, are you?" She tapped Emily's nose playfully, but her eyes, over her daughter's shoulder, continued to stare at Elara in silence.

Meanwhile, Elara stood aside, with a subtle look in her eyes.

******

"Well, that was an eventful outing if I do say so myself," Lucius announced to the empty room, the words bouncing off the stone walls of his bedchamber. He let himself fall back onto his bed, the thick duvet swallowing him with a soft whump. The crisp, linen scent of the room was a scent he welcomed completely, unlike the foreign smell of Silvia's shop.

He lay there for a moment, replaying the morning, the cryptic women, the dizzying array of artifacts, the overwhelming sense of stepping onto a stage whose play he didn't know by risking his life back then, just to prove to the woman that he had no bad intentions whatsoever.

A grin touched his lips. Despite the mystery, or perhaps because of it, he felt a thrill coursing through his body for a moment but that didn't last long.

With a sudden movement, he sat up straight, the grin turning triumphant. "Fortunately," he murmured, reaching into the inner pocket of his coat, "I was able to obtain this without worries." His fingers closed around the cool, leather-bound cover. He drew out the Grimoire, holding it before him in the slanting afternoon light.

It looked innocuous now, similar to an old, slightly sinister book. But he knew better than to fear it. This was his gateway, the secret key he'd been waiting for, which would replace the doctors jotter for him.

' Now I can continue to focus on both magic and swordsmanship without one hindering the other,' he thought, the plan solidifying in his mind with satisfying clarity.

He had already excused Su, insisting she take some time for herself after shadowing him all morning. It wasn't that he disliked her quiet, vigilant company, honestly, it was far from it.

He felt a genuine, if complicated, fondness for the silent girl who was both servant and, he suspected, his friend. But he needed solitude for this. Some doors had to be opened alone.

'Let's get to reading, shall we?' He snickered to himself, the sound eager in the quiet room. He gripped the book's covers, one in each hand, and prepared to open it to its mysterious middle.

He pulled yet nothing happened, the book refused to budge.

He blinked,frowning. He decided to try again, this time, he adjusted his grip, braced the book against his knees, and pulled again, even harder this time.

Unfortunately, The covers refused to budge even a millimeter. It was as if the entire thing had been carved from a single block of wood, the pages mere illusions painted on.

'This can't be…' A sliver of doubt, cold and sharp, pierced his excitement. 'I don't think she'd try to trick me. Emily's mother didn't seem like a scammer, plus, Su looked like she'd vouch for her no matter what. But how come it refuses to—'

"Ahh!" A sudden, biting pain made him gasp. He jerked his hands back, dropping the Grimoire onto the bedspread. A thin, red line welled up on the pad of his thumb where the gilded edge of the cover had bitten into his skin. He stared at the bead of blood, more annoyed than injured. "Stupid thing," he muttered.

As he lifted his hand to his mouth, the crimson droplet swelled, trembled, and fell. It traced a silent, fateful path through the air and landed with a soft, almost imperceptible pat on the Grimoire's dark cover.

The reaction was instantaneous.

A low, blood-red glow emanated from the book, not from any particular symbol but from the leather itself, as if it were heating from within. The light pulsed once, twice, continuing to pulse with each second, like a heartbeat. Then, defying all logic, the Grimoire levitated. It rose from the rumpled duvet, hovering a foot in the air before Lucius's wide eyes.

' That's definitely magical...' Lucius thought to himself. With a sound like a sigh, the once-impossibly sealed covers flipped open of their own accord.

'Wait a moment, how come It's completely blank?!' Lucius's heart sank for a terrifying second. The pages were a uniform, pristine parchment, devoid of any ink or illustration. But before disappointment could fully form, the pages began to turn. They riffled rapidly, a blur of white, before snapping to a stop about halfway through.

Then, words appeared on its pages.

They weren't written by some pen or quill but actually emerged one after the other in rapid succession, As if an invisible quill, dipped not in ink but in the very essence of his spilled blood, was writing them that very second. The script was elegant, sprawling, while also looking similar to a disturbing shade of rust-brown.

"Be careful of what you seek, for those who seek the unknown are bound to meet an unfortunate end. One who stalks the unseen shall be stalked in turn. Should your spirit falter before this ghastly path, retrace your steps to the sunlit world, lest your fate is sealed."

Lucius read the text aloud, his voice similar to a hushed whisper in the silent room. When he finished, a dry, humourless laugh escaped him. "Well, that's not terrifying in the least," he murmured, a wary smile on his lips.

He didn't need a teacher to tell him that It was a warning, one plain and dramatic. In layman's terms, A final chance to turn back.

He stared at the glowing book, the sanguine light casting moving shadows on the walls.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.