Chapter 27
The library remembers
JUDE
“You realize that glaring at me isn’t helping,” I sigh, flicking my eyes up to meet the gaze of the man staring at me like he’s about to tear the world down. “It’s off-putting.”
Lorien growls and his eyes narrow as his claws sharpen, threatening the desk with untold violence for some unknown offense that’s enraged him.
He’s been on edge ever since we stepped foot in the library, as if the books themselves are plotting against us.
I know better than to push him too hard, but this is getting ridiculous.
“You had the archives searched,” I sigh. “Three times over, Lorien. There’s nothing here. Not anymore.”
His eyes flash a warning and their gold flickers with a fierce protectiveness that sends a pulse of arousal to my dick. I’m half-tempted to sweep the papers aside and beg the man to fuck me on the desk, and if he keeps going like this, then my fantasy might be impossible to resist.
“What is it with you and this place?” I mutter, leaning back in my chair, watching as he continues to twitch with barely contained rage. The silence between us thickens, the tension suffocating. Every breath feels too loud, every second dragging on longer than the last.
“Apart from the fact that this place almost killed you?” Lorien says, his voice low, rough.
“This place doesn’t just hold answers. It traps them, and other things.
It feels things. Remembers them too.” His eyes flick to the shelves around us, as though they might spring to life at any moment. “Things I’d rather not be reminded of.”
I study him for a moment, trying to decipher the weight behind his words. I’ve seen him angry before, seen him fight, seen him lose control. But this is different, and this place of quiet reflection has gotten under his skin and it cuts deeper than simple irritation.
“You can’t keep running from your past,” I mumble, and I see an almost imperceptible wince flicker through his eyes. “You know that, right?”
Lorien clenches his fists, his claws retracting just enough to stop slicing into the wood, but the fury still radiates off him like a live wire.
“First, you will mind your manners. Second, I am not running. I do not run,” he snaps, though the edge of uncertainty in his voice betrays him. “I’m trying to keep it from consuming everything. From consuming you. And us.”
I lean forward, my gaze steady on his. “Then let me read.”
His eyes soften and for just a moment I see an opening, a crack in the walls he’s so carefully built around himself. But before I can say anything more, he stands abruptly, pacing the room in the restless way he does when his mind is unraveling.
The temperature in the library drops, and a biting chill crawls across my skin. I look around, feeling the weight of the place settle on my shoulders like a heavy hand.
Something is wrong.
Too wrong.
Lorien freezes, his body rigid, the tension snapping through the air like an electric charge. I watch him closely. His eyes dart to the walls, then back to the doorway. He inhales sharply, nostrils flaring.
“Something’s coming,” he mutters, his voice low and strained. “And it’s not just the damn air.”
Before I can ask what he means, the faint sound of scratching echoes across the floor, too soft to be real, too sharp to ignore. The temperature drops another degree, and the shadows stretch unnaturally around us, pooling at the corners of the room.
I grip the edge of the desk, the hairs on my neck standing at attention.
A sudden gust of wind blows through the cracks of the library, and the candles flicker violently, their flames twisting unnaturally. The shadows gather, thickening into something darker, more solid. And then it takes shape.
A dark mass rises from the floor, a swirling vortex of shadow and malice, and I recognize it instantly. The sargath takes form, and another creature conjured from pure darkness rises before me. The last time I saw one, it nearly tore me apart.
The thing slithers toward us, tendrils of shadow whipping through the air like wisps of black smoke, its shape shifting, amorphous. Its eyes are pooling pits of violet fire and they fix on Lorien.
I don’t have time to think. The creature lunges.
Lorien’s reaction is immediate, his entire body coiling, ready to strike. He grabs the knife from his belt, throwing it at the sargath as if it could stop the thing. The blade hits the shadowy mass, but instead of making contact, it melts into the darkness, absorbed like it never existed.
“Shit.” I growl, instinctively reaching for anything I can use as a weapon.
“You should have stayed out of here,” Lorien snarls, his voice laced with a weight that’s older and darker than I’ve ever heard.
The sargath hisses, its voice like a thousand whispers all speaking at once, slithering through the cracks in the air, curling around my spine.
The room itself seems to tremble in response, books rattling on the shelves, the flames of the candles stretching unnaturally high before flickering out one by one.
A wave of dark energy surges toward us, pressing against my chest, thick as tar, seeping into my lungs. My breath stutters.
I can’t move.
Can’t breathe.
My body rebels against me, every instinct screaming that this thing is wrong, that it shouldn’t exist.
Lorien roars, his body brimming with power, and slashes through the shadow.
The sargath recoils, its shriek high and shrill, shaking the very foundations of the library.
But it’s not enough. The creature convulses, then lunges again, faster this time, its amorphous tendrils reaching for me with unnatural hunger.
Everything inside me screams to get out of the way, but I don’t.
I can’t. I’m rooted to the spot, frozen in a cold sweat, my limbs leaden.
It’s like the thing has reached inside me and pulled out the worst kind of fear, the kind that steals the ability to fight back.
My heartbeat is erratic, hammering against my ribs, and a sickening dread curls in my gut as the thing surges closer.
And then, in a blur, Lorien is there, his body between me and the dark, his back arching as he absorbs the blow meant for me.
The impact slams into him like a physical force, knocking him off balance.
He staggers but doesn’t fall, his muscles straining, veins glowing faintly with barely restrained power.
A grimace crosses his face, sharp and pained, as he grits his teeth against the onslaught.
The sargath shifts, its tendrils thickening, pressing against him, testing his limits.
He snarls, his claws slicing through the black mass, but every wound he inflicts closes instantly, reforming like liquid shadow.
The thing isn’t fighting. It’s consuming, pulling at his strength, wrapping tighter and tighter.
A sharp, visceral panic claws up my throat.
My stomach turns to ice. Lorien—Lorien, who is always in control, always the strongest in the room—is faltering.
His breath comes harsher, his knees dipping ever so slightly before he forces himself upright again.
The shadows coil around his legs, his arms, his throat.
No. No. No.
I lurch forward, but the air between us thickens, resisting me. The sargath’s presence is suffocating, a living nightmare pressing against my skull, whispering things I can’t quite hear but feel in my bones.
It wants him.
And it won’t stop until it has him.
It’ll come for me second, but it wants him first.
“Get… out,” Lorien says, his voice barely above a whisper as the sargath coils around him, pulling him into its depths.
The darkness tightens its grip on Lorien and the sargath’s form shifts like a living void, devouring the air around him.
Shadows creep over his limbs, wrapping around his torso like sentient smoke, dragging him further into the abyss of its being.
He snarls, his claws tearing through the darkness, but every wound he makes seals itself almost instantly.
The thing is feeding on him. Consuming him.
I lurch forward, grasping at anything that could be a weapon. My fingers close around an old iron candleholder, its weight reassuring in my grip. Without thinking, I hurl it at the creature.
It sails straight through the darkness, swallowed whole.
Gone.
The sargath doesn’t even react.
“Shit,” I breathe, panic clawing up my throat. My heart pounds against my ribs as I scan the library for anything—anything—that might help.
Lorien struggles, his body convulsing as the sargath’s tendrils wind tighter. His golden eyes lock onto mine, and for the first time since I’ve known him, there’s something in them I can’t bear to see.
Fear.
I can’t let him die.
I grab a rusted dagger from a display case and charge forward, my body acting on instinct.
My swing is wild, clumsy, but the blade meets shadow.
There’s a moment of resistance, the faintest tremor through the metal, before the darkness swallows it whole, sucking it into its endless void. I stumble back, useless. Helpless.
“Lorien!” My voice is raw, filled with something desperate and ugly. “Tell me what to do!”
His lips curl in frustration as he wrestles against the black tendrils. “Get out of here!”
“Not an option!”
With a furious snarl, Lorien summons a burst of power.
Fire crackles at his fingertips, his body igniting in a violent golden flare.
The sargath recoils with a shriek, its shadows peeling away for a fraction of a second.
He drops to the floor, gasping, but before he can stand, the thing lashes out again, slamming him into the nearest bookshelf with a sickening crack.
Books explode around him, raining down in a storm of dust and torn parchment.
Something inside me snaps.
No, it shatters.
A violent, visceral crack, like bone splintering under pressure.
Rage floods my veins, molten and uncontrollable, drowning out every rational thought. I see red. I see death. I see the thing trying to take him from me, and I will not allow it.
I charge, fists clenched, no plan, no strategy, only the blind need to stop this thing from taking him.
I barely make it two steps before the sargath shifts.
A wall of darkness slams into me, sending me sprawling.
The impact steals my breath, cold tendrils wrapping around my limbs, dragging me toward its pulsing, writhing core.
It’s eating me. I feel it pulling at something deep inside me, something I don’t understand.
A hollow ache blooms in my chest, like it’s reaching for something beyond my body, beyond flesh and bone.
My mind reels, drowning in despair. I’m weak.
I’m nothing compared to the creatures of this world, to Lorien.
And now I’m going to die, and so is he.
No.
The word doesn’t come from my mind. It erupts from somewhere deeper, something buried in the marrow of my being. A defiance that shouldn’t exist. The air around me crackles, charged with an unseen electric fury. My skin tingles, the pressure in my chest reaching unbearable levels.
It coils within me, a storm barely contained, clawing at the edges of my skin, demanding release.
Heat licks at my bones, an inferno rising from the depths of my soul.
The air hums, alive with power, a force I don’t recognize but know, instinctively, has always been there.
Waiting. It surges up my throat, desperate to break free, to consume, to destroy.
And then it breaks.
Light erupts from me, searing through the darkness, white-hot and blinding. The sargath shrieks, its form convulsing as the shadows recoil. The tendrils holding me disintegrate into mist, and I drop to my knees, gasping.
Lorien stares, his golden eyes wide with an expression caught between shock and awe. But there’s no time for questions. The sargath screeches, its body writhing, but it’s still coming. It’s still strong.
The power inside me pulses, wild and untamed. I don’t understand it. I don’t know how to wield it. But I don’t need to. I let it take over.
I raise my hands, and the light flares again, surging toward the sargath.
This time, it doesn’t just recoil. Instead, it burns.
The darkness writhes as if in agony, its form collapsing in on itself, struggling against whatever force I’ve unleashed.
A soundless cry echoes through the air as the sargath twists and shatters, its shadows unraveling into nothing.
The sargath convulses, its shrieks a chorus of agony, sharp enough to split the air.
Its form writhes, limbs twisting at impossible angles as the light sears through it.
Shadows bubble and burst like diseased flesh, tendrils snapping, disintegrating into a black mist that shrieks as it dies.
The air is thick with the stench of burning rot, of something ancient and foul being torn apart at the seams.
And then, silence.
I slump forward, my body trembling, my breath ragged. The energy vanishes as quickly as it came, leaving me empty, shaking. My hands feel raw, my veins thrumming like I’ve been struck by lightning.
I don’t understand what just happened.
I don’t understand how it happened.
But I’m alive. And so is Lorien.
He groans, pushing himself up from the wreckage of the bookshelf. His gaze lands on me, fierce and unreadable, his expression a storm of emotions I can’t name. For a moment, neither of us speaks. Then, slowly, he moves toward me, reaching out, his fingers brushing against mine.
“You—” His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. “What was that?”
I swallow hard, my throat dry. “I don’t know.”
My whole body is shaking, wracked with violent tremors that I can’t control.
My chest heaves, every breath scraping against raw lungs.
My hands are still alight with aftershocks, nerves sparking like frayed wires.
I feel hollow and heavy all at once, as if something vital has been ripped from me, leaving behind only this aching, thrumming void.
I clutch at the ground, struggling to stay upright, but the world tilts, warping around the edges.
His grip tightens. “You saved me.”
I let out a shaky breath, my mind still reeling. “Maybe.”
“There’s no fucking maybe about it,” Lorien says and he shifts closer, his warmth anchoring me, but it’s not enough.
The exhaustion is too much, dragging me under like a riptide. My vision tunnels, my limbs go numb, and before I can stop myself, I collapse forward. Strong arms catch me just before I hit the floor, and the last thing I hear is his voice, raw with something I can’t name.
“Jude—”