The crumbling library towered ahead like a relic of a bygone age, shrouded in mist and mystery.
Its spires pierced the swirling fog, their jagged silhouettes making it look less like a place of knowledge and more like sothing you'd find in a villain's lair.
"Of course, it had to be spooky," I muttered, pulling my cloak tighter around . Agnos, my ever-loyal feline companion—if loyalty ant sarcasm and naps—perched lazily on my shoulder.
"This place is giving 'haunted textbook factory,'" I told him. "Let's make this quick."
Agnos yawned, a slow, exaggerated motion. "Try not to embarrass yourself in front of any ghosts. Again."
I pushed open the creaking door. The inside was… worse.
Rows upon rows of towering bookshelves stretched into the gloom. The air buzzed faintly, like the hum of power lines, but heavier. Ancient scrolls and crumbling manuscripts whispered unintelligibly, as if alive.
My boots kicked up a fine layer of dust, and I could've sworn the motes ford the words Run while you can before they scattered.
"Oh, lovely," I whispered. "Atmosphere."
And then she appeared.
Ms. Dustwick, the skeletal librarian, materialized out of nowhere, her bony fra swathed in a cobweb-like shawl. Her skull glared at with empty eye sockets, and a pair of glasses sat precariously on her non-existent nose.
Despite her lack of skin, she sohow managed a frown that scread "disappointed teacher."
"No snacks. No drinks. And for the love of the gods," she said, her voice a mix of gravel and a teacher's exasperation, "no touching the forbidden tos unless you wish for a spontaneous explosion of ti magic."
I froze, coffee mug in hand. "Define 'snack,' asking for a friend."
Ms. Dustwick pointed a skeletal finger at . "Anything edible or drinkable, you unruly biped."
"Cool. Glad I didn't bring snacks." I shoved a half-eaten sandwich deeper into my pocket, hoping she wouldn't hear the crinkle of foil.
Her bony gaze lingered for a mont too long before she waved deeper into the library. "You have been assigned to the mory Archive. Follow the blue lanterns. And keep your… friend out of trouble."
Agnos stretched across my shoulder and purred, "Define trouble."
The mory Archive was tucked away at the back of the library, behind a row of particularly ominous bookshelves labeled Accidents and Catastrophes.
The blue lanterns Ms. Dustwick ntioned flickered weakly, their light casting eerie shadows on the ancient stone walls.
When I finally reached the archive, I found a pedestal at its center, surrounded by what looked like polished stones, each glowing faintly. A sign above it read:
"Relive the Past. Reflect for the Future."
Not ominous at all. For more chapters visit noⅴelfire
"So, I just… touch one?" I asked aloud, as though the stones would answer.
"Great plan," Agnos said, already curling up in a dusty armchair nearby. "Touch the glowing rocks in the haunted library. Nothing could go wrong."
"You're a pillar of support," I shot back.
With a deep breath, I picked up one of the stones at random. A sudden jolt shot through my hand, and the world around warped.
I blinked, and suddenly, I wasn't in the library anymore.
I was standing in the middle of what looked like a ballroom, surrounded by a flock of harpies. And I do an flock—there were feathers everywhere.
A towering, bejeweled harpy at the center of the room screeched, "Welco to the Grand Harpy Ball!"
"Oh no," I said, but it wasn't my voice. It was higher-pitched and overly dramatic. I looked down and realized… I wasn't . I was inside the mory of a harpy.
Before I could process this horrifying realization, chaos erupted.
One of the harpies near flapped her wings, a spark of magic escaping her talons. It caught on a chandelier, which promptly burst into flas. The fire spread faster than I could squawk—yes, squawk—and soon the entire ballroom was in full-on pandemonium.
"Oh no! My feathers are singed!" one harpy cried.
"Oh no, I've burned everyone's feathers. This is so much worse!" I said—or rather, the harpy I was inhabiting said.
The mory collapsed into a blur of flas, feathers, and screaming, and I was unceremoniously ejected back into the library, clutching the stone and gasping for air.
"Well," Agnos drawled, not even looking up from his nap, "looks like soone had fun."
After a few more mishaps—one involving a troll's particularly embarrassing first date—I finally found the right stone. The mont I touched it, a sense of familiarity washed over .
This wasn't soone else's mory. It was mine.
The scene that unfolded wasn't heroic or glamorous. It was , sitting alone in my apartnt, surrounded by books and half-empty coffee cups. I was scrolling through job postings, rejection emails piling up in my inbox.
"You're too idealistic," I heard myself mutter. "No one wants a zoologist who cares more about animals than profit."
The mory shifted. Now, I was at a family dinner, awkwardly explaining my latest job hunt.
"Maybe you should aim lower," soone said. "It's not like you're saving the world."
"I just… want to make a difference," my past self replied, voice barely above a whisper.
The mory faded, and I was back in the library, the stone still warm in my hand.
It wasn't the grand revelation I'd been expecting. No ancient prophecy or hidden destiny. Just… . A reminder of why I ca to Mythica in the first place.
Ms. Dustwick's voice snapped out of my thoughts. "Your ti is up. And tell your creature to stop chewing on the forbidden tos!"
I turned to see Agnos gnawing on the corner of a particularly sinister-looking book.
"Agnos!" I hissed, grabbing him before Ms. Dustwick could launch one of her enchanted quills at us.
"Not my fault," Agnos said, looking thoroughly unrepentant. "It slled like fish."
As we left the library, the air outside felt lighter, less oppressive. But sothing about the day lingered with . The mories I'd seen weren't just glimpses of the past—they were pieces of a puzzle.
I glanced back at the library, its spires disappearing into the mist.
"Echoes of the past," I murmured. "Guess they're not done with yet."
Agnos flicked his tail. "Let's hope they're less flammable next ti."
But deep down, I knew the real trial wasn't behind . It was ahead, waiting in the shadows of Mythica's ever-unfolding mysteries.
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