The library stretched across several floors, its spiral oak stairs creaking under their steps. Tharion moved slowly, his dark gaze following the beams of light filtering through the colored stained glass. Each window cast splashes of red, blue, and gold across the polished stone floor, dancing in intricate patterns. The air, heavy with the scent of aged parchment, warm wax, and damp wood, seemed almost to pulse around them.

  A lady was a woman in her thirties, calm and composed in her demeanor. Her chestnut hair, tied in a simple yet elegant bun, let fall a few strands that framed her delicate face. Her light blue eyes seemed to scrutinize every detail, as if she could anticipate what each reader sought before they even asked.

  She wore a long dress in cream and light brown tones, simple yet neat, perfectly in harmony with the library’s ancient atmosphere. Her slender, nimble hands handled the books with near-ceremonial care, reflecting her respect for these treasures of knowledge. As she moved between the shelves, her steps were measured and silent, and her discreet smile immediately inspired trust.

  …walked behind, gently laying fingers on the cold wood of the shelves. The books, bound in leather or yellowed parchment, were pressed tightly together, some covered with a thin layer of dust that floated lightly when brushed.

  “Hello, sir, I’m the librarian. How are you?” she softly asked, placing a book on a reading table. Her voice blended with the rustle of pages and the creaking steps.

  Tharion replied softly: “Hello… I’m looking for some books.”

  The librarian nodded, a warm smile on her lips. “Alright, sir. Do you have a preference?”

  Thalen intervened:

  — Yes… a book on soul magic.

  Tharion slightly nodded.

  — Yes. The magic of the soul.

  The librarian nodded gently and offered them a warm smile.

  — Very well. On this topic, there are several works that could be useful.

  She moved toward a large dark wooden shelf. The rows were filled with ancient grimoires, some bound in cracked leather, others decorated with magical symbols engraved in gold.

  She reached for a thick black leather grimoire, its spine etched with fine silver letters.

  — This one, she explained while pulling it slightly from the shelf, is titled Foundations of Soul Magic.

  It explains the basics: what the soul is, how spiritual energy manifests… and, above all, how to learn to control it.

  She put the book back and then picked up a thinner volume, covered in dark red leather, marked with a golden magic circle.

  — That one, she continued, deals with rituals and training techniques.

  It teaches different methods to strengthen your inner energy and stabilize your soul during the use of magic.

  Finally, she pointed to a much older book, whose darkened cover seemed almost dusty. Ancient symbols were engraved on the leather.

  — And this last one, she said, lightly touching the cover with her fingertips, is a history book.

  It traces the origins of soul magic, the mages who used it… and the many dangers that accompanied it.

  She then turned to them and placed a hand on a small wooden cart with wheels beside the shelf.

  — You can use this to carry your books.

  Tharion slightly bowed his head to the librarian.

  — Thank you for your help.

  The librarian nodded gently, still smiling.

  — You’re welcome, it’s my job.

  She then walked away calmly, her light steps barely echoing on the polished stone floor. She passed through the long rows of shelves filled with ancient books and gradually disappeared behind the tall bookcases.

  At the back of the large room, in a quieter corner near a wide arched window, there were two of them.

  The librarian nodded softly and approached the corner by the window.

  The elder was asleep in the armchair.

  He was about six foot two and had a solid build, broad-shouldered, with muscles well-defined from years of training. His dark skin caught the light from the window, giving him a look both lively and robust.

  Long black braids fell to the middle of his back, some sliding along the chair. His face bore a scar across one eye, further emphasizing the naturally serious expression of his features. He had an angular jaw and a straight nose, giving his face a hard, disciplined look.

  He wore dark armor adorned with red details, composed of sturdy gauntlets and reinforced pauldrons. The ensemble perfectly followed the line of his body and gave him an imposing presence without unnecessary overload.

  A book lay open on his chest, held by one of his large hands.

  His breathing was slow and steady, as if the world could collapse around him without him noticing.

  Next to him, the cadet sat on the sofa.

  He was even taller than his brother, around six foot four, but far less imposing. His body was slender and lean, more agile than strong.

  His slightly lighter dark skin reflected the soft light from the window.

  His short hair emphasized his youthful, sharp appearance.

  He also wore armor, but much lighter, designed for mobility rather than brute strength, perfectly suited to his slimmer frame.

  His eyes stayed fixed on the book he held, scanning the lines with intense concentration. A nearly insatiable curiosity shone in his gaze, as if he were trying to absorb every word.

  — You’re still here, gentlemen?

  He immediately raised his eyes.

  — Are we disturbing you? he said quickly. I promise, we’re not stealing anything. Well… except maybe knowledge. But that’s legal, right?

  His voice was lively, almost too fast. The words came in rapid succession.

  The librarian blinked, surprised but amused.

  — We’re about to close, she said with a slight smile.

  — Already? But look at him! He’s sacrificed himself for culture! You’re going to shatter his intellectual dreams. And that’s rare!

  He gestured theatrically toward his sleeping brother, almost too broadly for the silent room.

  For a moment, his smile faltered. His fingers gripped the book cover a little too tightly.

  — Is he tired? asked the librarian softly.

  He shrugged.

  — No, he’s training for a nap contest. Expert level.

  Then she let out a light laugh.

  — This library is open twenty-four hours a day. I’m joking.

  He blinked.

  — … Pardon?

  She crossed her arms, amused.

  — You can stay as long as you like.

  A light smile.

  — Ah. Great. So I just made a dramatic speech for nothing. Wonderful. I feel very smart.

  He ran a hand through his hair.

  — At least he has an excuse, he added, pointing to his sleeping brother. He’s meditating deeply. Advanced technique.

  The librarian watched the scene with amusement, her eyes noting the speed of his words, an energy verging on excess.

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  — You talk a lot for someone who claims to read.

  — I read fast, he instantly replied. Natural talent. Tragically misunderstood.

  He still smiled. A bit too much.

  Then she slightly changed direction and approached a small group gathered near the dark shelves.

  Meanwhile, the cadet had stood to look for a more suitable book. They were three. Too close to each other. As if whispering something that should not be lost in the air.

  The light in that part of the library was dimmer. The shelves rose high, almost to the ceiling, and the shadows were deeper.

  She slowed down, observing them silently. Not like a mere employee offering help. As if she were trying to read behind their eyes.

  — Were you looking for something…? calm, soft, yet extremely attentive.

  The tallest of the three barely shrugged, almost mechanically.

  — No, we were just looking.

  The librarian tilted her head slowly, her face impassive, but her eyes lingered, scrutinizing, almost insidious.

  — In the restricted manuscripts section?

  A shiver ran through the air, imperceptible but real. The silence seemed to thicken, as if the library itself were holding its breath.

  Silence. Short… but charged. As if the air itself were suspended.

  One of the group members slowly looked away toward an empty shelf, movements calculated, almost too precise. As if searching for a title that didn’t exist.

  — We… didn’t know it was restricted, he murmured, voice low and hesitant.

  She gave a slight smile. Not mocking. Not kind. A smile that observed more than it expressed.

  — It’s indicated, she said softly, almost as a warning.

  Her gaze briefly dropped to their hands. No tension, no books, no actual searching. Just presence…

  — If you’re looking for something specific, I can guide you, she calmly offered.

  The youngest of the group swallowed, imperceptibly. His eyes betrayed a mix of surprise and apprehension, as if he had just felt a shadow slide past.

  They exchanged a rapid glance. Too fast to be natural.

  Then the tallest replied, in a neutral voice:

  — It won’t be necessary.

  A fraction of a second passed. Time seemed frozen. No one moved. Yet something had settled in the air, an invisible, silent tension.

  Then they dispersed. Too naturally. Too quickly. As if nothing had happened.

  The librarian remained still, breathing gently, her eyes following their every step until they vanished from view. Her smile slowly faded, and a whisper escaped her lips:

  — Interesting.

  She resumed her rounds, calm and poised… but her gaze had changed. Sharper. More attentive. As if perceiving something no one else could notice.

  The library was calm, almost sacred. The ancient parquet creaked barely under the few steps of readers, and the air smelled of old paper and polished wood. The suspended lanterns cast golden light, making reflections dance on the shelves and polished tables.

  Tharion walked the aisles, eyes attentive to the book titles. He had been searching for a very specific work for several minutes.

  — Well… I’ll ask the librarian, he murmured to himself, in a calm but determined tone.

  As he prepared to head to the counter, he spotted the cadet, slightly taller than him, bent over a shelf.

  Tharion approached, hesitating. He wanted to ask him a question because he couldn’t find the librarian, but something held him back.

  — Hello… uh… would you happen to know where we can find books on eye-related powers? he asked politely.

  — I don’t work here, he said, shaking his head. Ha! Yes, I know I’m smart… but not that smart. Sorry, I talk too much. Ha! But don’t worry, I know where it is.

  Why… does his presence remind me of my brother?

  Tharion looked at him for a moment, slightly surprised by his energy. He remained silent, offering only a slight nod.

  Then, with a gesture, he pointed to a somewhat secluded shelf, covered with ancient books with colored bindings and delicate gilding.

  — Come… it’s just there. I’m looking for a book on ocular powers too, he said, a knowing smile in his eyes.

  Tharion followed the cadet, observing the library around them: the polished wood of the tables, the carved shelves, the light dust floating in the beams of light.

  The cadet lightly touched the covers and handed some volumes to Tharion.

  — Here… he murmured, somewhat proud. These are the only ones I saw that deal with eye powers. There’s theory, practice, and a few rare accounts.

  He had also helped himself, choosing older books.

  Tharion gently ran his fingers over the bindings, absorbed by the leather’s texture and the smell of old paper. His eyes became more serious.

  — Thank you very much, he finally said. I’ll study them carefully.

  The cadet nodded and returned to his own search, his face illuminated by the soft lantern light. Tharion, now with books in hand, prepared to return to Thalen, eager to share his discovery.

  The cadet moved through the library, fingers brushing the spines of the books with a satisfied smile.

  — Well… let’s see… a few different books… Mmm… there, I have everything I need. Not too much, not too little…

  He weaved between the shelves, enjoying the beams of light filtering through the stained glass. Each flash of red, blue, and gold danced on the polished floor, and the scent of wood, old parchment, and warm wax filled his nostrils. The fireplace, lit for the evening, gave the place an almost sacred atmosphere.

  His eyes fell on his older brother, sitting in a chair at the back of the room. He slept deeply, a book open on his chest. Despite his imposing build, he seemed fragile in the library’s silence.

  — Well… still asleep… not surprising with all that reading… pffff…

  He moved a little closer to the window, where the light illuminated his grimoires, and opened a book titled Adhérion.

  — Hmm… a friction power… but no explanation… no example… seriously, not even a small diagram?

  — Well, Adhérion… let’s see what you hide… Hyper-condensed friction… it must be like manipulating resistance at will… yes, could be useful… if I understand how it works.

  I already understand the basics, but for the rest… I’ll have to figure it out myself, he thought, focused.

  Tharion, further away, read notes on ocular powers carefully. Focused, serious, he sometimes nodded and jotted annotations. The cadet watched him for a moment, intrigued, then returned to his own world: himself, his older brother asleep, and Adhérion.

  He sat on the sofa, adjusting the books on his knees. The library seemed to envelop him in an almost sacred calm. The dancing shadows, the crackle of the fire, and the golden lantern light made the place come alive, as if time had stopped to give him free rein to reflect.

  He leaned over Adhérion, scanning the lines with palpable intensity.

  — Hmm… huge potential… control friction forces… immobilize, accelerate, manipulate… But how?

  — Come on, think… if I push here, it could create resistance… if I release there… it should slide…

  His fingers tapped gently on the book cover, as if he could activate the power with mere curiosity.

  Hours passed, the sun set, and the librarian had lit the fireplace. The flames danced gently, casting moving shadows on the shelves filled with books. The air smelled of burned wood and old parchment, warm and reassuring.

  The elder brother woke, yawning slightly. He looked at his cadet and said, a mix of exasperation and affection:

  — You’re still reading, Azryel… But I told you to train with me to compensate for your weaknesses.

  Azryel raised his eyes, hesitating for a moment.

  — But Nyros… you know I have no talent for close combat! Look at my body…

  Azryel shook his head, visibly frustrated.

  — You really don’t get it, huh… sighed Nyros. You know what? Let’s not talk about it, it’s useless…

  Nyros lowered his voice, firm but calm:

  — Stop being in denial…

  Azryel felt the weight of those words, and for a moment, silence fell between them, only broken by the fire crackling.

  Then, quickly changing the subject, Nyros added:

  — And your research, is it progressing?

  Azryel nodded.

  — Yes… I almost have my new magic.

  He concentrated his energy gently, performing a precise movement. Then he closed his eyes. At first glance, they seemed simply brown… but at the center, a living, sinuous Yin-Yang symbol appeared. The left half evoked calm and mystery, made of blue-violet nebulae dotted with luminous sparks. The right half burned with red and orange flames, reflecting passion, instability, and danger. The line separating these two forces vibrated with energy, as if calm and chaos were in perpetual balance.

  At the center of the eye, the pupil transformed into a golden astrolabe with eight arms, shining like a small sun. It evoked majesty, power, and control over the eye’s energy. A vertical light passed through the eye from the astrolabe, enhancing its supernatural aura.

  I’ve known how to do this for a while… but I need to test it, he thought, short of breath, focused.

  With this thought, Azryel plunged back into his grimoire, absorbing every word, every clue, as if his mind alone could awaken the power hidden behind the pages.

  Azryel took a deep breath and opened his eyes. His iris shone with the Yin-Yang symbol, and the golden pupil slowly rotated.

  He reached for a small book. It trembled for a moment, then lifted awkwardly, as if hesitant to stick to his hand. Azryel frowned: Hmm… it works, but not perfectly yet… I still need to understand how it functions…

  His body vibrated slightly with the effort, and the fireplace flames seemed to dance more vividly around him. He knew he had just succeeded, but total mastery was still far away.

  Nyros struck with a normal, human but firm blow.

  Azryel tried to use his adhesion, focusing energy around him… but it only worked halfway. Nyros’ fist hit him square in the chest.

  He staggered back a step, swaying slightly, and a trickle of blood escaped his mouth. Black and pink shimmered, unstable, as if supporting him despite his awkwardness.

  He took a deep breath, eyes shining despite the pain. Even partially, his power had manifested, and he knew he had to continue learning to control it.

  Nyros stared at Azryel, serious.

  — Well, whether you like it or not, you’re going to train your body at least. You can’t tell me you master magic and remain this weak.

  He paused, eyes studying his cadet.

  — You must not be like me. You need to be agile, fast, and strong enough to support your magic. You really have potential… and you’re only fifteen.

  Nyros looked Azryel straight in the eyes, his voice firm but calm and a little sad:

  — You know that…

  Azryel nodded, a slight shiver of disgust crossing his expression.

  — Okay… Nyros.