I stand on unsteady legs and move toward the middle of the room.
The bookshelves loom above me, and I scan the ones I can clearly see. I spot a candle on the ground, so I lean over to grab it. The deeper you go into the library, the darker it gets, so any light will be needed to find the book. A nearby sconce is still lit with a flame, so I place the wick in the fire to illuminate the candle. Thousands of books fill the shelves, and I widen my eyes. How am I supposed to find one book in the sea before me?
Without knowing how long I have until this wears off and remembering that time passes differently here, I begin to walk down the aisle to my right, scanning the books as I go.
Ancient text fills the space, some spines I can read, others take me a minute to translate, and others are in a language forgotten by time that I’m not convinced even Oak could read. I drag my hand against the books and feel the aged spines. Dust covers my fingertips, and I continue down the dark library.
My senses remain alert, but my fear and the sounds of movement throughout the library fade. Wherever the creature is, it is far away, so I allow myself to steady my racing heart and continue down the dark paths.
Minutes, perhaps hours, pass, and I feel as though I’ve been walking for miles; however, the candle I’m holding hasn’t appeared to change. It remains as tall as it was when I first lit it, so knowing how much time has passed is meaningless. My aching feet keep moving forward, yet I haven’t seen a red book once. All the books lining the walls are dull, brown, and aged leather. None display an ounce of color, and I feel as if I’ve temporarily lost the ability to see color.
A sound startles me in the distance, and I quickly press my back against the bookshelf. The muffled sliding noise begins to echo again, and I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to quiet my breathing. Books fall in the distance, and the sound grows closer. I quickly extinguish the candle, and faraway sconces still shine a bit of light around me. I move farther into the shadows, trying to get as close to the shelf as possible.
“I know you are here, little one. I can smell your blood.”
A voice slithers into my mind, and the color drains from my face.
“Why do you hide?”
A concealed sob escapes my throat, and I squirm, trying to rid my mind of the hissing voice.
“Come out into the light. Let me see you. You smell delightfully dark like the God himself marks you.”
I scale the shelves and move deeper into the aisle, maintaining my focus on the opening ahead. My back brushes against the books as I use my hands to guide myself backward. I see a shadow approaching from the left, moving toward me through the darkness. I keep my hand clasped over my mouth, and a tear rolls down my cheek.
A creature larger than the mountains comes into view and slowly slithers across the opening. Black scales cover its impossibly large body, and spikes as tall as small trees rise from its back. Eyes as orange as a burning forest rest upon its head, and a long tongue flicks out of its mouth, tasting the air—searching for me.
The creature’s large body moves past the opening where I am hidden, and I watch in shock as it glides before me. Its serpent-like form continues to flow by the shelf, and my jaw drops when I realize that not only is the creature a serpent, but also that two long claws line its body, tucked in like wings poised to spread and strike when needed.
“Smart one you are, little one. Hiding in plain sight.”
The words crash into my mind, evoking fear I’ve never felt before.
“I won’t hurt you. Let me see you.”
Even a heavy breath could reveal my location, so I remain as still as possible, though my quivering only increases out of fear. I keep my thoughts silenced, refusing to respond, even in my mind. I continue moving backward when a book, sticking out farther than the others, strikes my arm and crashes to the ground. The creature’s tail finally sweeps across the end of the corridor and disappears around the corner.
I continue to backpedal down the long passage, stepping over long-forgotten fallen books and various scrolls, but keeping my gaze focused ahead of me. The slithering sound pauses, and so do I, too afraid to make any noise. The darkness clouds myvision, so I focus on any flickering candlelight I can find along the walls.
I remove my hand from my mouth and exhale, hoping the creature has vanished once more. Ice billows into the open air from my breath, and I quickly realize how cold I am, wrapping my arms around myself.
A low, ancient voice slithers into my mind again.
“I may not be able to see you, but I can hear you. I can smell your fear, feel your quivering, and your fumbling around. I make you nervous.”
A book catches my foot, and I stumble backward, unable to steady myself. I clumsily crash to the ground, landing flat on my back.
“Very nervous.”
The bookshelves on both sides of me tower above, and I freeze. I see the creature high above, gaining a better vantage point in hopes of spotting me somehow. Its long, slick body moves in unison from head to tail, revealing its underbelly for the first time.
Orange and red scales illuminate the creature’s belly as it breathes in and out. The beast pauses high above, and I scoot against the shelf once more, concealing my body in the darkness. I can’t move, and even though I'm invisible, I’m frozen in fear. Its large head scans around the room, looking into the aisle next to me before it trains its gaze on the aisle I’m hiding in. The creature’s long face cascades lower to the floor, and I press my back as hard as I can against the shelf. Its tongue flicks out of its mouth as its head gets closer and closer to my body.
“I smell you.”
I slap my hand over my mouth and move my opposite hand up my leathers toward the cut, blood staining the bandage.
“I hear you.”
