The Athenaeum

The lights above flickered and shut off one by one, starting from the row furthest from the door, all the way to the bookshelf next to the return counter. 

Soon, the entire library was pitch black and filled with the sound of constant buzzing from the decades-old air conditioner. 

-

The oldest library in the country. The biggest collection of rare books. 

But what the library was truly known for, is what most have already forgotten and are completely oblivious to : the collection of magic books. 

A book from the library’s rare collection would cost thousands, but just one of the legendary magic books could be priced at millions in the Shadows Market.

Veda has been in ‘The Athenaeum’ countless times, but this would be her first time visiting the place after hours. She had got in through the oculus of the dome. An intricate plan that took months to perfect. She had run through the whole heist in her head.

Down the dome. East to the rare books collection. Activate the secret tunnel. Unlock a possibly enchanted gate. And then there she would stand, in the middle of ‘The Circle Room’. At least that was what the room was called in the blueprint she bought from the dealer at the Shadows Market. 

40 silvers was what it cost her. Enough to eat three warm meals for two whole months. 

“Risk it all or lose it all.” she had told herself. 

It was some of the last of the money she was left with, after the Affliction took away her job guarding the old couple rich enough to pay for a hired gun, but not quite in order to afford the overly overpriced treatments for the deadly disease. The very same disease that took away her father years ago. 

The same early symptoms : pain in the chest, cough, and then the gradual deterioration of the respiratory system before the body of the affected starts attacking itself and suffocates itself to death. 

She knew. So, she ran. Escaped before the Affliction could take her the same way it did to her only family. 

Taking silent, stealthy steps through the moonlit library, she passed shelves after shelves of books. Though her black cloak was more than enough to conceal her in the silhouette of the towering furniture, it did not stop her from feeling completely exposed in the cavernous room. 

Stick to the shadows, stay out of sight.

For a place that held such valuable items, The Athenaeum was not as closely guarded as she had predicted. She had snuck past not one, but multiple guards taking naps at the designated reading areas. Even avoiding the security cameras were easy as they were placed in easily-avoidable spots. 

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy.” Veda thought to herself.

The lack of security did not pose as much of a surprise to her, as almost no thief would loot The Athenaeum. It was a sacred place, almost as sanctified as the cathedral on the other side of town. Legends had it that Mimir, the god of knowledge, was once a scholar at this very library. Whispers from the streets claim the spirit of the god himself still exists today in the library, guarding the books and blessing fellow scholars. 

“Only a fool would try to steal from the keeper of eternal knowledge.” Abiri had laughed when Veda tried to convince him to be her aid during the heist.

Abiri. The sharpest shooter of the Western lands. He was two years short of being the same age as Veda, but twice as experienced in ‘taking back taxes’, as he called it. Shame he was native to these lands and would never disrespect customs, for his wicked accuracy would be extremely helpful if they were discovered. 

The floor-to-ceiling windows on the sides of the hallway provided her with enough moonlight to maneuver through the space without needing her flare charm. 

The tiled floors were gradually replaced with hardwood as she approached the entrance to the rare books section. A set of doors was what separated her from the valuable antiques on the other side of the door. 

Five, Nine, Two, Six. 

As soon as she approached the door, her head pounded with the beginning of an annoying headache.

Iron. 

Sturdy in the event of a robbery, and useful in repelling most Wielders.

Her protection ring would have been really useful in this situation. A ring she’s stolen from one of the sorcerers from their collection at the Shadows Market. A ring she had lost in this very library weeks ago, when she was scouting the place. 

The keypad was on the right, just as she’d seen in the thoughts of the head curator. It had taken her days of tirelessly trailing after the old man in the shadows of the library, whenever some rich nobles requested to take a look at the rare books section. It had been difficult to get into his head, especially when the head curator adorned nearly his whole body with iron jewelleries. Likely to protect himself from her kind. After all, it was not impossible for Wielders such as herself, to cross the SouthWest border. Many had crossed the border, seeking help from Science to cure the Affliction, as even the strongest healer Wielders could not cure the disease. 

Her gloved fingers ran over the surface of the keypad as she typed in the numbers. 

Five, Nine, Two, Six.

--

The soft sound of metal against metal rang down the hallway as the iron door split open and cold air gushed out of the room. 

It wasn’t a big room, at least not as gigantic as the main library itself, but it was definitely something to look at. Large books lay horizontally by themselves on metal shelves, others were stacked on top of each other, but never in a pile of more than books. The books were arranged by size, and if she had not known better, she would’ve thought these books were as new as the ones displayed outside. 

Pushing through the growing pain in her head, she grabbed a few books and stashed them in her satchel. 

If she doesn’t get her hand on those fabled magic books, at least she would not return empty handed. These books would get her enough money for food, a place to stay, and maybe even some new clothes.

“Alright, where are you oh magical tunnel ?” 

There weren't many hiding spots for the ledge to the secret tunnel, so it should be hidden in plain sight. She placed her hand on the smooth white walls, brushing against the cold metal of the shelves, until she noticed it. 

She blamed her delay in spotting the panel to the tunnels on her pounding pain at her temples, but there it was, a red leather bound book in a row of books twice it’s size. A place such well-kept as this would never risk storing their precious rare books this way. All the other sections were grouped according to size except this one, so this must be it. 

It was not a book. Veda’s fingers lingered on the spine of the book for a few seconds before she tugged on it. 

Nothing. 

No movement, no sudden blast of light, nothing. 

Was the blueprint she bought fake ? Another piece of the countless counterfeit sold on the Shadows Market ?

Well, real or fake, at least she still had the rare books to keep her from being homeless.

Veda turned towards the now closed iron doors behind her. Another keypad on the right to open the doors. 

Five, Nine, Two, Six.

No response. She could see her reflection staring back at her through the doors. The same almond-shaped eyes and black hair that ran in her family, her bloodline. The same tan skin that had taken so many trips to the beach in order to achieve. 

But, there seemed to be something different about her. Something uncanny. 

Strange. 

Before she was able to think twice about her reflection, the floors shook. 

The metal shelves shifted, the books on them barely moving. The wooden floors seemed to rearrange themselves to reveal what was hidden underneath.

A set of stairs. 

She’d pictured an ancient tunnel, a sparkly enchanted gate .. but a simple set of wooden stairs ?

Though the blueprint never said anything about how extensive the safekeeping would be, Veda had expected more security. 

The steps were steep, and it took her utmost concentration to balance the weight of her body and the load of the books on her shoulder. 

She was almost halfway through the descending stairs when an oddly distinct scent caught her attention. A metallic coppery scent. It smelled like the old change jar that she used to keep on her bedside table. 

Was that the smell of magic ?

It’s been said in textbooks and passed around through tales that places with powerful magical presences usually give off a strong indescribable smell. Not acrid, not fragrant. Apparently it smelled of everything, and nothing at the same time. 

Veda has always imagined it to smell like mud. A bit of copper mixed with the scent of dirt, all put together to form the moist scent of geosmin. The scent only became stronger as she reached the bottom of the stairs and saw that -

There was no gate.

But the lack of security was nothing to what she discovered.

There were no books. 

The Circle Room was filled with rows upon rows of shelves. Rows upon rows of empty shelves.

So it was but a legend after all. Nothing but a myth in order to keep the gods alive in people’s heads.

“Guarded by Mimir my ass” 

She turned around to head back up the stairs when the clang of metal hitting against the wooden floor sounded. Her head whipped to the direction of the sound. 

Under normal circumstances, she would’ve bolted right out of the door. But she didn’t. It sounded way too familiar. She’d heard it before, somehow. 

Driven by her newfound curiosity, she started in the direction of the noise. The deeper she walked, the stronger the copper stench became. 

She’d passed two shelves.

Three.

Four.

It was five shelves later when she found it. A silver ring. No, not just any silver ring. 

Her silver ring. The one she’d lost weeks ago. 

But that couldn’t be. She had lost it in the visitor’s zone, not even close to the restricted rare books area.

Veda was either completely losing her mind, or something was about to go horribly wrong. She had to take a closer look at the ring. See if it was truly hers. 

As she was crouching to examine the ring, she saw it. Black hair.

No, HER black hair. 

Only it was not styled in the ponytail that her hair was currently in.

Only it was from a mirror image of her, on the ground. 

Only her almond eyes were milky white, in a constant state of stupor.

Only she was writing in a notepad. The notepad she used when gathering information about ‘The Athenaeum’.

“Five, Nine, Two, Six.”