Auren stood still.
Her steps halted right before the grand doors of the library.
Between the towering shelves, beneath the flickering candlelight, stood a figure she knew all too well — the man with golden hair.
His hair shimmered softly, as though reflecting light from a world Auren had never known.
He was still the same… with that gentle smile — one far too warm for a world as dark as this.
Auren stared at him for a long moment, her eyes a mixture of surprise and quiet resentment.
That smile — the same one that once led her into the unknown, only to leave her there, alone in the dark.
The man slowly closed the book he had been reading.
His gaze rose to meet hers with calm composure, as though nothing was ever amiss.
"Ah… you've finally come," he said softly, his voice calm, almost soothing.
"About that time… something urgent came up. I didn't have the chance to tell you."
His tone was too smooth, too convincing — every word coated in a kind of gentle certainty.
But for Auren, it was that very softness that made her want to rage.
She said nothing. Her eyes spoke instead — of exhaustion, of the silence that followed after being left behind.
The man smiled again.
"Just call me Lucen," he said at last. "I mean no harm to you, Auren. Everything that happened before... was my fault. So let me help you, in any way I can. Truly."
The word "truly" left his lips with such calmness that even the air seemed to fall still for a moment.
Auren lowered her head slightly, then looked up with sharp eyes.
"If I told you to die to help me," she said flatly, "would you do it?"
Lucen's expression didn't change.
That gentle smile remained — softer, if anything.
"With pleasure," he murmured.
Auren froze.
For a moment, she truly didn't know whether the man before her was being honest… or utterly mad.
At last, she exhaled quietly.
"…I was just caught up in the moment," she muttered, walking past Lucen toward the endless rows of books.
Lucen only watched her, hands clasped calmly behind his back.
Auren's eyes wandered across the spines of the ancient books, her gaze intent and searching.
But soon, her steps faltered.
A shadow fell behind her.
When she turned, Lucen was already there.
This time, he held a thick, dark-covered book in his hands.
"Looking for something to strengthen your magic?" he asked, wearing that same warm, unreadable smile.
The faint letters on the book's cover read: "Alternatives for Enhancing Magic."
Auren glanced at it briefly, then turned away, ignoring him.
Yet no matter how many shelves she passed, the same shadow followed behind her.
By the third time she turned, Lucen was there again — this time holding another book.
Auren sighed deeply.
"If you're going to help me look, at least call my name," she said, annoyed. "So I don't think something's always creeping behind me."
Lucen chuckled softly, the sound like quiet music.
"Very well," he said, then handed her the book he was holding. "Is this what you're looking for?"
Auren took it silently.
Its cover was worn and dusty, but the title remained legible:
"Creatures of the Castle of Darkness."
She opened it carefully.
Each page was filled with illustrations and text written in an ancient tongue — yet somehow, she could still read it.
Her eyes stopped on one particular page.
A massive, winged creature with a long, spiked tail and glowing red eyes stared back at her.
The description beneath read:
> Drakthir
A winged being born from ancient shadows.
Reaching sixteen meters tall at maturity, with curved horns and a tail that acts as a whip in battle.
Its breath forms a dark magic sphere known as Umbra Devast — an explosion ten times stronger than any common spell.
When cornered, it manifests the Veil of Abyss, a black barrier that devours and reflects all magic cast upon it.
It is said that wherever a Drakthir appears, the earth's shadow trembles — as if the world itself rejects its existence.
Auren stared at the page for a long while.
A faint smile crossed her lips — part relief, part horror.
"…So that's your name," she whispered.
Drakthir — the monster that had once nearly ended her life.
She closed the book slowly.
But when she turned to speak to Lucen...
he was gone.
Auren gazed at the empty space where he had stood.
The air around her felt different — as if something had just vanished, something that was never quite real to begin with.
She stepped closer, but only a swirl of dust remained, drifting like pale ash.
For some reason, her chest felt tight.
Not from anger… but from a quiet ache, a loss she somehow understood without knowing why.
"Lucen…" she whispered softly.
The name felt strange on her tongue, as though it belonged to a memory she should have known.
A sudden gust of cold wind swept through the library's aisles, making the candles shudder wildly.
And from within the dancing shadows on the walls, something seemed to stare back — not with eyes, but with memory.
Then the voice came.
Gentle, echoing — whispering through her mind like mist through time.
Its words fell not as speech… but as verse:
"Step forward, though the ground beneath you cracks.
Keep walking, though your shadow dares not follow.
For truth waits not for the hesitant —
It gazes only upon those who dare to perish for it.
So keep walking, Auren…
Even if your next step is your last."
Silence swallowed the air once more.
The voice faded, leaving behind only an echo, circling within Auren's mind.
She stood there, tense, breath shallow.
But no one was there.
Only the towering shelves and the gentle flicker of candlelight…
as if the library itself had just spoken to her.