Lars returned to his room with the book tucked under his arm. The blackened leather cover seemed to absorb the dim light of the corridors, as if it carried more secrets than he could ever imagine. Once inside, he shut the door behind him and opened it on the desk.
He turned the pages slowly, but every line was incomprehensible. The text was written in ancient Greek—recognizable only from fragments he had seen before, yet far beyond his ability to read. He rubbed his temples in frustration.
"Great…" he muttered. "Another mystery."
He sat in silence, drumming his fingers on the desk. Perhaps tomorrow he could ask Klein or Amelia—or anyone else he crossed in the palace. Maybe someone would at least know what kind of book it was. The thought eased his mind a little, though he decided to postpone it. It was already late, and during his walk from the library he had only seen a few servants putting out lights and collecting things. The place was silent, almost too much so.
With a resigned sigh, he closed the book. The dull thud of the cover echoed in the room louder than expected.
That was when he saw it.
By the door, framed by the shadows, stood a tall, elongated silhouette. Human in shape, yet cast by no light. It simply existed, still, as though watching him.
Lars staggered back, the chair tipping until he hit the ground hard. His heartbeat thundered against his ribs.
"What… what the hell are you?" he asked in a shaky voice, convinced it had something to do with the book. Ever since he had opened it in the library, that unseen gaze, that pressure in the air, had never left him.
The shadow gave no reply. It didn't even move. Then, as if dissolving into smoke, it slid through the door and vanished beyond it.
Lars jumped to his feet, flung the door open, and glanced into the corridor. Empty. The chill of the air met him, accompanied only by the distant echo of his own footsteps. There was no trace of the figure.
He shut the door quickly, his breathing unsteady. For a few seconds he stood still, trying to convince himself it was nothing more than exhaustion. But deep down, he knew better.
He lay on the bed, the image of the shadow etched in his mind. The sense of being watched still clung to him, along with the gnawing doubt of whether he was truly safe inside that palace.
With his pulse still racing, he closed his eyes and forced himself to rest. But the question pulsed in his mind:What the hell was that?
Dawn crept timidly through the curtains of Lars's room. Despite the bright sun spilling across the palace gardens, the air was sharp with the winter chill. He rose sluggishly, the memory of the shadow lingering from the night before. In the small hours he had convinced himself it must have been his imagination… and yet, the feeling of being watched hadn't left him.
He decided not to dwell on it. A quick shower of warm water eased some of the tension, and once dressed in plain but neat clothes, he slung his coat over his shoulder. Before leaving, his eyes fell once more on the desk. The book remained there, waiting, almost taunting him. He picked it up and tucked it under his arm.
Today, he would find answers.
The dining hall was silent when he arrived. The long wooden tables sat empty, adorned only with jugs of juice, baskets of bread, and steaming plates. Lars set the book down on the polished surface and took a seat. He waited for a few minutes, tapping his fingers, until faint voices drifted down the corridor.
The sound grew clearer: Amelia chatting brightly, Klein's deeper, serious responses, and Lauren's quieter interjections woven between them. The three appeared together at the entrance.
"Good morning," Lars greeted, trying to sound casual.
"Well, look who's up early!" Amelia said with a playful grin, sliding into a chair across from him.
Klein gave only a curt nod, and Lauren settled silently into her seat, her sharp eyes scanning the room with quiet awareness.
That was when Klein noticed the book lying on the table. He froze, his gaze fixed on it as if it were something forbidden.
"Where did you get that?" he asked, his voice tight, pointing at the volume.
Lars blinked. "From the library."
Klein frowned. His lips pressed into a line as though he couldn't believe what he'd heard. "That's impossible," he said, his voice low but loaded with tension. "That book… it's one of the three secret texts of the organization. It's supposed to be locked away in the underground vault."
Amelia raised her brows, intrigued. "A secret book? Well, now you've got my attention."
But Klein didn't take his eyes off Lars, as though searching for a lie in his face. "Tell me the truth. Where did you take it from?"
The firmness of his tone sounded almost like an accusation. Irritation flared in Lars. He leaned forward.
"I already told you. It was in the library, on a random shelf. If you don't believe me… read my thoughts and see for yourself."
The words fell into the dining hall like a stone in water. Amelia and Lauren exchanged uneasy glances, both well aware of the weight of what Lars was suggesting.
Klein studied him in silence. There was defiance in Lars's eyes, conviction that didn't seem faked. At last, Klein sighed and pulled back, reclining against his chair.
"If you speak with such certainty…" he muttered, "then perhaps you're telling the truth."
Still, the unease never left his face. His hand brushed his chin thoughtfully. "Then how did it end up in the library? If it's truly the book I believe it is… it should never have been there. It's sealed, guarded."
Trying to break the tension, Amelia leaned closer to the book. "Maybe someone borrowed it and forgot to put it back. Who knows?"
Klein shot her a sharp look. "That's not the kind of thing one simply forgets."
Lauren finally spoke, her tone calm but firm: "If this is true, someone must have put it there deliberately."
Her words hung in the air, cold as the winter outside. Lars stared down at the book, confusion knotting tighter in his chest. He had no idea whether this was mere coincidence—or the start of something much bigger.
Lauren folded her arms, eyes still fixed on the book. "If it was in the library, someone had to leave it there. But not just anyone. That's not an ordinary volume—it's watched closely." Her tone was measured, almost calculating. "Maybe someone tried to take it from the vault, failed to get it out of the palace, and dumped it in the first place they could."
Amelia rested her chin on her hand, thinking aloud. "That could be. Or maybe… they wanted someone to find it. A kind of message, don't you think?"
Klein shook his head firmly. "No. No one in their right mind would take such a risk just to leave a message. That book holds secrets most of Dominion doesn't even know. It can't just be lying around."
"So what are you saying?" Amelia shot back, one brow raised. "That a ghost snuck it out of the vault and dropped it on a dusty shelf?"
Klein didn't answer right away. His dark eyes were locked on the book again, as though waiting for it to yield the truth. "I'm saying someone inside the organization moved it. Someone with access. And that's troubling."
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the crackle of firewood in the hearth.
Lauren spoke once more, careful this time: "Whatever the reason, the fact remains: Lars found it. And now he knows it exists."
All three turned their gaze toward him. Lars sat still, rigid, listening closely while trying not to betray the turmoil churning inside him.
Amelia, with a gentler expression, exhaled. "Maybe we're blowing this out of proportion. It could have been a mistake—unlikely, but still. What I find strange is this: if someone wanted to steal it, why leave it in the library where anyone could stumble across it?"
Lauren narrowed her eyes. "Maybe they couldn't finish the theft. Left it there as a quick escape, planning to come back later."
"That makes sense," Klein admitted, though unease lingered in his voice.
Lars swallowed hard. The theory unsettled him more than he wanted to admit. If the book had been left there on purpose… had he been the intended finder? Or had he just walked into something far beyond him?
Minutes passed in tense silence. Breakfast lay forgotten, the plates barely touched.
At last, Klein spoke with finality:"We're returning it now. That book should never have left its place."
Amelia frowned, still reluctant. "Are you sure? Maybe we should at least see what's inside—"
"No." Klein's voice cut sharp. "Not here. Not in this hall. That text is guarded for a reason."
Lauren nodded slowly. "He's right. If anyone else finds it in our possession, suspicion will fall on us. Better to put it back immediately, and make sure it's known we only found it."
Lars remained silent, his pulse quickening. He hadn't expected a simple decision to carry the book to breakfast to spark this storm. His fists clenched in his lap, forcing himself to stay composed.
Amelia sighed, giving in. "Fine. But we all go together. That way, no one can claim one of us acted alone."
The four rose almost in unison. Lars lifted the book carefully, as though it weighed more now than ever, and pressed it to his chest while following the others.
The path to the underground was steeped in silence. They descended a narrow corridor that ended at a heavy iron door. Klein stepped forward, laying his hand on the cold handle. With a grinding screech, it swung open.
A wave of damp air rushed over them, thick with the smell of stone and dust. Torches along the walls flared to life, casting their descent in flickering light.
None of them had been down there in years. For Lars, it was the first time. He stared in awe at the carved walls lined with symbols he couldn't understand. Amelia noticed and offered a faint smile, though her eyes betrayed unease.
At the end, they reached a wide chamber filled with iron shelves stacked with chained tomes. Klein guided them to a space left bare on the central row. He pointed.
"That's where it belongs."
Lars placed the book carefully in the gap. As he did, the chains around the shelves rattled and tightened, as if recognizing the return of one of their own. A strange murmur swept through the chamber, like an ancient sigh.