Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
I’m in the Library of the Veils.
I’m home.
The realization sends a chill down my spine. This used to be one of my favorite places to be in Shadow’s End. I would come here often when I wanted to get away from the hustle and bustle of the castle. Rauta used to sit by the Book of Runes at the entrance, guarding it, but he would often follow me around as I wandered through the stacks, running my fingers over the endless array of books, each one harboring countless souls in the pages. Even though I wasn’t supposed to, sometimes I would take the books down and find a comfy spot in the corner and flip through the pages, marveling at all the lives these mortals have lived.
But now, this place has taken on an insidious gloom that permeates the literature. It’s full of evil and black magic and suffering.
I glance beside me and spot my companion in misery.
Sarvi, the skeletal unicorn and my father’s loyal aide, lies crumpled on its side beside me, a once-proud frame bound by iron chains. Its skull is tipped at an angle, hollow eye sockets seeming to regard me with dry humor even in this dire state.
About time you woke up, Sarvi’s voice enters my mind, dry and sardonic. I was starting to think I'd have to endure Louhi's endless monologue alone.
“Sarvi!” I whisper. “You’re here.”
I wouldn’t sound too excited. That also means you’re here and you have to listen to her too.
“Great,” I mutter under my breath, wincing as I shift my position. “A two-for-one special. My mother and her theatrics.”
Sarvi chuckles weakly. Careful, child. She’s been in a mood, and it’s not the fun, dramatic kind that runs in your family. More the grind-my-horn-into-a-potion variety.
I’m about to respond, ask how the hell one can be so glib after they’ve clearly been tortured, the sawed off horn proof of that, when the sound of footsteps echoes through the library. They’re slow and deliberate, the heels clicking on the hard floor. My heart sinks.
Louhi emerges from the shadows, her elegant yet imposing figure shrouded in a black gown that seems to writhe like living smoke, wrapping up and over her horns like a cloak. Her pale green-grey face is expressionless, but her sharp eyes gleam with cold malice. In her hands, she holds a mortar and pestle. My stomach turns as I realize it must contain the remains of Sarvi’s horn.
“Ah,” Louhi purrs, her voice as smooth and cutting as a blade. “You’re awake, Loviatar. Good. It would have been a shame for you to miss the final stages of my preparations.”
“You mean desecrating Sarvi?” I sneer.
Her lips curl into a faint smile. “Sarvi’s horn contains remnants of divine magic, tied to both your father and the underworld. It’s a rare ingredient, and as much as I find its commentary tiresome, the creature has proven useful.”
Flattery will get you nowhere, Louhi, Sarvi’s voice cuts into my mind.
Louhi’s smile tightens, but she ignores them. Instead, she walks to a stone pedestal in the center of the room. Upon it rests the Book of Runes, its pages rippling faintly as if alive. Shadows writhe around the edges, curling like smoke. Like everything else in here, it appears to be corrupted.
“Do you know where you are, my daughter?” she asks, her tone almost casual.
“Obviously,” I reply. “Do you?”
“Mmmm,” she says, setting the mortar down with deliberate care. “Each soul, each memory, each whisper from the dead is contained within the pages of these books. Do you feel them watching you? Listening? Wondering if you’ll join them?”
I let out a growl of frustration. I’m running out of time and I’m already tired of her talking. “I’m not here for story time.”
Her eyes narrow, the faintest twitch of irritation breaking her composed exterior. “You don’t even know why you’re here. You’re here because you’re a pawn, Lovia. A mere piece on a chess board you don’t even comprehend.”
“Tuonen is dead,” I spit out venomously, wanting it to hurt her like it hurts me. “Did you know that when you kidnapped me?”
She freezes, her eyes widening briefly. For a moment, just a second, I see a flash of sorrow or remorse, her wings lifting. Perhaps she didn’t know.
Then she lifts her chin and her bat wings fold back against her. “He brought that on himself. If he had stayed in the dungeon where I had kept him, he would have stayed safe.”
“Well, he didn’t. Because he didn’t know if he’d end up like Sarvi here. He left to help save the realm, to help my father, to save all the souls who’ll end up here one day. He died a hero, even if it was at the hands of your own father.”
She swallows thickly. Could it be she didn’t know it was Rangaista that killed him?