Chapter 200
Ellie's POV
The library was unusually quiet that day.
Normally, it was already the most peaceful place at the academy, but today there was something almost comforting about the silence. No whispers between students. No footsteps rushing past. No distractions.
Just books.
I set my things down at my usual table in the corner, tucked between two towering bookshelves beneath a large window.
It was my favorite spot in the entire library because, during the afternoon hours, the sunlight poured through the glass at just the right angle, filling the space with a warm golden glow.
There was no need for the small lamp sitting on the table.
The sun did the job perfectly.
"Ellie?"
I looked up as Sandra, the elderly librarian, appeared around the corner, pushing a cart stacked high with books.
"Oh, it is you."
I smiled and dug through my bag.
"How are you doing, Sandra?"
She gave a tired laugh.
"Fine, fine. Although my arthritis has decided to make today miserable."
She gestured toward the cart.
"I don't suppose you would mind helping me put these away? I know it's a lot to ask."
"Not at all."
I stood and took hold of the cart.
"I could use something to keep my hands busy anyway."
Sandra gave me a knowing look.
"I heard about your wedding..."
Her voice trailed off.
"Oh, but I shouldn't pry."
I appreciated that more than she probably realized.
"Thanks."
She smiled gently before walking away, leaving me to my task.
Honestly, I liked organizing books.
Something was calming about it.
Everything had a place. Every book had a category, a shelf, a position where it belonged. Unlike people, books didn't lie about where they were supposed to be.
They didn't change.
They didn't betray you.
I started with the fiction section, occasionally stopping to glance at an interesting title. Then I moved on to biographies, followed by math and science.
Eventually, I reached my favorite section.
History.
The history shelves had always fascinated me.
There was something strangely comforting about reading about people who had lived hundreds or even thousands of years ago. Their struggles, their victories, their mistakes.
Ancient battles.
Forgotten kingdoms.
Royal families.
Every page was a reminder that the people of the past had been just like us.
They had loved.
They had dreamed.
They had fought to survive.
They weren't just names carved into old records.
They had been real.
And someday, we would become history too.
Nothing more than stories left behind.
I suppose I understood that better than most.
I had already died once.
I had been given another chance, something most people never received.
But I knew better than to assume there would be another.
A third chance wasn't guaranteed.
Which meant I couldn't waste this one.
Not trying to make someone else happy.
Not trying to convince a man to love me.
Not on sacrificing myself for someone who might destroy me again.
This time, I had to choose myself.
I pushed those thoughts away and reached for another book on the cart.
It was thick.
Heavy.
The pages were yellowed with age, the edges worn from years of being handled. Dust covered the cover except for a few faint fingerprints, suggesting someone had recently pulled it from the shelf after years of neglect.
I wiped it clean and read the title.
The Story of the Ancient Lycans.
My eyebrows lifted.
The Lycans.
I remembered studying them back in school.
They were similar to werewolves, but supposedly different.
Stronger.
Faster.
With more powerful wolf spirits.
At least, that was what the legends claimed.
No one knew the complete truth anymore.
The Lycans had disappeared thousands of years ago, leaving behind only fragments of their civilization. By the time modern researchers discovered their ruins, much of their history had already been lost.
All we had were bones.
Artifacts.
Cave paintings.
Pieces of a world that no longer existed.
Still, they fascinated me.
Some historians even believed the Lycans had been more advanced than modern society.
They had created systems for clean running water without modern machinery. They possessed knowledge of healing herbs that had long since disappeared. Their understanding of medicine was supposedly beyond anything we could recreate today.
The greatest mystery was their lack of written records.
If they had left behind a language, perhaps we would have understood so much more.
I placed the book back on the cart and finished shelving the remaining books.
Then I carried it back to my table.
And I started reading.
The first few chapters contained information I already knew, but there were still fascinating details scattered throughout.
Apparently, the Lycans had developed unique forms of competition and combat games. The champions of those events were considered heroes and were often rewarded with land and authority.
Some historians believed those champions became the earliest versions of what we now call Alphas.
Before I realized it, I had read half the book.
Outside, the sun had disappeared.
The library was darker now, quieter.
But I kept going.
Partly because I was interested.
Partly because I didn't want to go home.
Three-quarters of the way through, I reached the section about Lycan physical traits.
According to the researchers, most Lycans had been incredibly tall. Based on skeletal remains, many stood over six feet.
They also commonly had blonde or red hair.
Then I reached a section about a specific discovery.
A highborn female Lycan was found in an ancient ceremonial burial site.
Unlike most remains, hers had been remarkably preserved. Her clothing, hair, and even traces of makeup had survived thousands of years.
But the detail that caught my attention was her eyes.
One eye had somehow remained intact.
When researchers opened the preserved eyelid, they described the iris as having an almost opalescent appearance.
I slowly lifted my fingers to the area beneath my own eye.
People had always described my eyes as unusual.
Like a fire opal.
A strange mixture of blue, hazel, and hints of pink and white depending on the light.
I had always thought they were simply blue.
A coincidence.
Nothing more.
The Lycans had been gone for thousands of years.
Even if someone carried their bloodline, it would likely be almost nonexistent.
Barely a trace.
Still...
I kept reading.
And reading.
Until eventually my eyes grew heavy.
The clock was nearing midnight.
I rested my chin in my hand and turned another page.
Then I yawned.
And somewhere between one sentence and the next...
I fell asleep.
The first thing I noticed when I woke was sunlight.
The second thing was the pain in my neck.
I lifted my head slowly and blinked.
A hand rested gently on my shoulder.
"Ellie?"
I looked up.
Sandra stood beside me, concern written across her face.
"You were here all night?"
I rubbed my eyes and looked down.
The book was still open in front of me.
Apparently, I hadn't just dozed off.
I had completely passed out at the table.
"I'm sorry," I murmured, closing the book.
"I didn't mean to fall asleep."
Sandra's expression softened.
"You need proper rest, dear."
She wasn't wrong.
Unfortunately, proper rest meant going home.
And going home meant Dominic.
I gathered my things, returned the book to its shelf, and left the academy.
When I arrived home, I immediately knew something was wrong.
Dominic was waiting.
Standing in the foyer.
Arms crossed.
Expression dark.
The moment he saw me, his eyes narrowed.
"There you are."
His voice was quiet.
Too quiet.
"Where were you all night?"