“Straight down the corridor to the main hall.”
The library walls rose high around us, lined with maps and manuscripts older than nations. We hadn’t been inside long when an older gentleman approached. His dark gray suit was immaculate, his white hair combed with precision. A silver pair of glasses perched on his nose. In his hand, he carried a leather notebook as if it were a relic rather than paper.
“May I see your visitor passes?” His tone was calm but edged with authority—one that left no room for disobedience. His eyes studied us with the severity of a man long used to order.
Damian offered the passes. The man inspected them, gave a single nod, and gestured toward a corridor of towering shelves.
“Please follow me.”
He led us to a heavy wooden table, where several manuscripts lay stacked in neat piles.
“You may sit here.” His voice softened, but only slightly. “Handle these writings with the utmost care. Some are more than five centuries old. Outside the library, there is a refreshment room, but no food or drink is allowed within. If you require assistance, let me know.”
His gaze lingered, weighing us, as if measuring whether we deserved to breathe this air.
“I have a question,” Damian said smoothly. “Could you point us to the section on Egypt? We’re looking for manuscripts dealing with Egyptian amulets.”
The librarian inclined his head and guided us deeper into the building. We passed through several security doors before entering a climate-controlled chamber where shelves upon shelves guarded ancient treasures. Some were bound in fragile parchment, others in cracked leather. The air carried dust and age—time itself preserved.
The man pointed toward two rows. “Here you will find the Egyptian texts.”
“Thank you,” I said, and immediately began scanning the shelves.
“Do you remember which book you saw the amulet in?” Damian asked.
“Not exactly. It’s been too long, and I saw too many.”
My fingertips dragged over the spines, tracing centuries. Beside me, Damian searched with relentless focus, his eyes moving fast from one title to the next. After a while, I had gathered a small stack and carried them to the table.
Sitting across from him, I opened the first. The pages were yellowed and dry, exhaling dust—a scent that stirred both reverence and hunger. We read in silence, turning pages carefully, pausing on each fragment of script. At times, our eyes met. Once, when we reached for the same volume, his fingertips brushed mine.
The contact was brief, yet a wave of heat shot through me. My heartbeat faltered, then raced—a wild flutter that almost stole my breath. I cursed myself. How could the briefest touch undo me? One single, damn touch.
I tried to drag my focus back to the pages, but across from me sat a man whose presence refused to be ignored—magnetic, dangerous, irresistible.
Hours slipped past in concentrated silence until, at last, we found something.
A manuscript lay open before me, its illustrations vivid despite the centuries. My breath caught.
“Look here,” I said, pointing to the drawing of an Egyptian amulet—the Phoenix pendant. The image was paired with wall paintings of Ramses III wearing the same piece. “I think this is it.”
Damian leaned in, his shoulder nearly brushing mine. He studied the images, then pulled out his laptop and opened the photographs of the pendant. We compared every detail.
I began reading aloud, my voice low in the hushed air:
The Phoenix pendant, depicted here in an illustration from the late Egyptian dynasty, symbolizes eternal renewal and immortality in ancient Egypt. The amulet was worn by Ramses III as a protective symbol, believed to grant him strength and the power of rebirth. A wall painting shows Ramses III with this very pendant, emphasizing both his royal authority and his divine connection.
“You’re right. This is the pendant. Tomorrow we’ll visit the Egyptian Museum in Rome, study jewelry from the same era, and identify its defining features. Then we’ll search for artifacts and wall paintings that might give us more clues about the Phoenix pendant. And if we’re still not certain, we’ll take everything we’ve gathered to a renowned archaeologist here in Rome. He can confirm or disprove our theory.”
“Thisis so exciting,” I said.
“I agree.” Damian pulled out his phone and began photographing every page of the manuscript.
“Are we even allowed to do that?”
“It’s for research purposes. And I secured permission.”
Without another word, Damian sat beside me. So close his thigh brushed mine. My pulse spiked. I wanted to lean away, reclaim the distance, but my body refused to move.
