Myre's head throbbed as he stared at the mirror, still seeing faint shadows ripple across its surface. For a moment, he thought he saw movement—something alive—but when he blinked, it vanished. A chill ran down his spine.
Then a voice broke the silence, low and deliberate:
— You're going to be late, Myre.
He spun around and froze. A man stood before him, dressed entirely in black. His hat was elegant, yet strange, and a dark mask covered the lower half of his face. His eyes—emerald green—pierced through the dim light, locking Myre in place.
When Myre met his gaze, it was as if his mind was drawn into a swirling fog of light and darkness, two opposing forces clashing within. Panic, curiosity, and awe collided in his chest, making him stagger slightly.
— I… I was just… — Myre stammered, words failing him.
The man's gloved hand landed lightly on his shoulder. Calm, yet firm:
— Mirrena is probably waiting for you. Don't waste more time.
Myre nodded quickly. He didn't understand much, but he knew enough: he had to leave.
Stepping outside, the city unfolded like a painting he couldn't place. Stone streets twisted between elegant houses, their architecture a strange mix of medieval charm and hints of modern design. The smell of roasted meat floated on the air, making his stomach growl painfully.
He patted his pockets. Empty. Not even a coin.
Shaking off his unease, he approached a group of people and asked:
— Excuse me… where is the library?
One of them pointed toward the main street.
— Keep walking straight. You'll see it.
Myre nodded and moved forward, his heart beating faster with every step. His senses were alive—the distant chatter of townsfolk, the clatter of horse hooves on cobblestone, the aroma of fresh bread and roasted meat, the slight chill of a breeze brushing his neck.
Somewhere in the shadows, Mister Beng watched him silently. Myre had no idea; Beng remained unseen, studying every move, every hesitation, every glance Myre cast at the world around him.
Ahead, Myre spotted Mirrena. She stood out immediately—a beautiful girl, dressed in a student's outfit, short hair glinting in the sunlight, large glasses perched on her nose. Her gaze was sharp, intelligent, playful.
— If Mister Beng hadn't reminded you, you'd be late, — she teased with a smile.
— Sorry… — Myre said softly, cheeks burning, feeling both embarrassed and relieved.
Before heading to the library, Mirrena suggested grabbing a quick bite from a nearby food stall. The smell of roasted meat made Myre's stomach growl again, sharper this time. His pockets remained empty.
— You'll have to treat me next time, — she said with a wink.
He nodded, a small smile forming despite his nerves, and they walked toward the library together.
Inside, the familiar scent of old books enveloped him. Leather, parchment, and dust mingled with the faint aroma of candle wax. His eyes darted across shelves stacked with ancient tomes, their titles cryptic, some hinting at forbidden knowledge or forgotten secrets.
— I'll take a few more of these, — he murmured, unable to resist the pull of curiosity.
— You're acting a little different today, Myre, — Mirrena noted. — Reading so much.
— Haha… I just feel like reading today, that's all, — he replied, forcing a casual laugh, though his heart still raced from the encounter in the mirror.
Hours passed. They read, discussed, laughed, and shared small discoveries. Each book seemed to whisper secrets, hinting at mysteries larger than Myre had ever imagined.
As the sun dipped lower, painting the room in amber light, Mirrena finally stood.
— Myre, we have to go!
— But today was fun. You really have changed a bit, — he said, smiling despite the fatigue.
She ran down the street, probably heading home. Myre's smile lingered, but a shadow of unease returned. That same prickling sensation at the back of his neck—it was there again.