Only darkness greets us, but that doesn't stop my girl from finding her strength and stepping inside, no fear on display as my heart lurches in my chest.
The second she's fully inside, a soft glow rises, as if it comes to life at her presence, and the three of us race to follow after her, gaping in disbelief at the treasures that await us.
17
ELODIE
With my pulse ringing in my ears and my heart beating ferociously in my chest, I don’t know where to look first. Everything in this small room demands my attention. Yet, as small as it seems, it feels as if it’s endless, reeling me in with item after item as I try to wrap my head around the fact that I'm right back where I started.
Institute Thirteen.
It's been here all along. Right fucking here. I can’t even process that fact to figure out how I feel. All I know is I’m facing trials and tribulations, and I didn’t ask for any of them.
We need to address the fact that Professor Morton has known all along, and consider who elsemight know, but for now, all that matters is what exists inside these four walls.
I hear Ocean gasp as she enters the room behind me, disbelief flicks off her tongue, but it’s a whisper under her breath and I can’t hear it over the pounding of my pulse. I sense Rion and Thorne a step behind her, but I can't tear my gaze away from the sight before me.
The walls are covered with so much that I couldn’t say what color they are. Books in a variety of leather binders are stacked precariously high, covering over two-thirds of the wall, while the rest of the space is filled with maps and intricate pieces of tapestry that make my chest warm with an emotion I can’t truly understand.
It feels like a whole life in here.
My heart races as I let the weight of reality set in, acknowledging that everything in this room is a part of me, or that I'm a part of it.
Taking another step deeper into the space, I pause at the end of a large, fringed carpet taking up most of the floor. Instinctively, I kick off my shoes before pressing the soles of my feet into the fabric.
The nerves in my stomach calm at the connection and I take a deep breath, letting the feeling thread through my veins.
After a few moments, I feel lighter, but something has my gaze dipping to the rug beneath me. I don't know why I did that, take my shoes off, but I knew deep in my soul that I should.
Refocusing my attention, my gaze settles on the podium in the center of the rug. It’s a thin wooden stand with a thick book, closed, resting on top of it.
I already know in my gut that's what I've been searching for, and as I eliminate the rest of the space between me and the elusive pages, I catch a glimpse of the front cover.
The Fractured Book of Souls.
Ghosting my fingers over the intricate design and foil etched into the hardback edges, a shiver runs down my spine, and a moment later, the resounding thud of the door creaks shut, slamming behind us. I snap my gaze to the source, relieved to see that everybody else is comfortably inside, although none of them has taken a step onto the rug with me.
Nobody speaks a word, each of them enthralled by the sights before them, but there's also a lingering essence in the air. It’s as if they're trying to give me a moment to wrap my head around what I'm faced with.
Inhaling slowly, I return my attention to the room as questions swirl in my mind.
Is this what it feels like to come home?
To find your place, no matter what the world throws at you?
Where you are just able to be?
I don't know. I've never felt that before, but something tells me I'm rather close to it.
Exhaustion clings to me, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins has me reaching for the first page of the huge book in front of me, only to startle when I find my name written in thick black ink right in the center.
It’s etched into the sheets, right there in black and white, cursively written beneath another name that has been crossed out, and another, and another.
Confusion rattles in my mind as I try to understand what it means, and when I relax my gaze, zooming out instead of just being focused on my name, I see a year written beside it.
Understanding quickly dawns on me.
This is a family tree. Or possibly, in this case, the lineage of scythes… as if I'm the last one… as if this book waits for the newest member.
