Michail flinched as the heavy oak door slammed shut behind him. Joram stalked past, cutting a menacing silhouette in the dimly lit library that had once belonged to Magister Cornelius. Joram's presence tainted the air with a foul energy, disrupting the sanctity of the room that had provided so much solace to Michail.

  “Welcome to my new study, dear boy.” His words dripped with false sweetness, sending a shiver down Michail's spine. “Sorry about the mess – the room needs some… refurnishing. I’m sure you are eager to help me with that.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Michail's eyes darted around the room, taking in the towering bookshelves laden with ancient tomes, on which the firelight was casting flickering shadows. Oh, how he had missed this haven of knowledge, the scent of old parchment and leather-bound books, the countless studying hours under Magister Cornelius’ guidance. His fingers itched to reach out, to feel the rough texture of the vellum and hear the soft rustle of history beneath his touch. But he knew better than to annoy Joram with such display of sentimentality; his body still ached from the abuse he had endured last night at Joram’s hands.

  (The rest of the chapter has been removed to prevent further copyright infringements.)