Shelf Life

Friday:

Each step cracked the hush of the cold marble hall. Clara found herself late again for her Cognitive Arcanum course with Professor Aldwyn. Her failing grade was not from a lack of effort. She studied and reviewed obsessively, but nothing seemed to stick. It proved to be a demanding course for a third-year student. Most students had formed study groups weeks ago. No one invited Clara, as the groups weren't accepting new members.

“You're late again,” Wren said as Clara sat down. Wren wasn’t a friend, not really, but it was the closest thing Clara had to one.

Friday had finally arrived, and her hour-long class had crawled by like it knew she wanted to be free.

“Have a great weekend,” Professor Aldwyn said. “Wait for your assignments, please.”

Clara had studied harder this week than before. She felt certain she’d turned a corner. When her assignment hit her desk, her stomach dropped. Another D to match her collection.

Clara waited for the class to clear. Her disappointment created a sudden fatigue, and her body felt the weight of the world. She carefully zipped up her backpack, threw it over her shoulder, and stepped out into the cold, long hallway again.

Wren was standing with everyone’s favorite golden child, Ivy, and, of course, her boyfriend, Lucien. Ivy was, as Clara saw it, nauseatingly beautiful—like an effortless painting. She was the so-called poster child for the university, a prodigy, unlike any student who has crossed these halls in a millennium. Lucien stood beside her, tall with soft brown hair and eyes like the sea. He was every girl’s dream and had no awareness of Clara’s mere existence.

Clara overheard them discussing another party. Another party that she would not be invited. All the same, she needed to study for next week’s quiz. Her grade was in serious jeopardy. She slowly stepped back into the classroom to avoid being noticed, but it was too late.

“We should talk about this somewhere without prying eyes,” Ivy said with a head nod and an eye roll in Clara’s direction.

Another Friday night alone was nothing new to Clara. She stepped into the cold, long hallway. The earlier fatigue clung to her as she made her way to the library. Her footsteps echoed like reminders: she was, again, alone. She hoped the solitude would improve there, but she was mistaken. The library was empty. The only sound was her growling stomach.

All the study tables were empty, but she settled in a room in the back. The isolation matched her mood. As the clock hummed, she laid out her notebook, pen, and books on the table. After her focus had waned, she finally got up to stretch.

The fluorescent lights flickered and buzzed overhead as she wandered the aisles. She moved slowly, aimlessly, until a small whisper slipped from the stacks. She froze. Nothing. Then it came again.

“Hello,” she called out. The whisper returned. Thrumming like a thought that wasn’t hers.

“Clara”, it said.

In a daze, she reached for a leather-bound book hidden behind the shelf. Her heartbeat thumped as she pulled it towards her. Her senses sharpen immediately. A rush of knowledge filled her, electric and immediate. The answers flooded into her mind, even for exams she hadn’t even taken yet.

Clara looked at the book in disbelief. The words Lexicon Interdictum were hand-stitched into the ancient leather.

“Hello, Clara,” it whispered. “I am exactly what you have been looking for.”

Tuesday:

After class, Clara sat stiffly, eyes locked on her desk as the Professor returned the revered quiz. Her fingers ached. She looked, her first A+.

“Well done,” said Lexie.

Clara had decided over the weekend to name the book Lexie. It made the whole thing seem less strange and more like she had a friend. With Lexie by her side, she would soon be the golden child. She could feel it, the swift inside transforming into everything she had ever dreamed of.

Wednesday:

Clara’s hand shot straight up the moment Professor Aldwyn had posed the question to the class. The answer poured from her mouth, smooth and certain. She knew it.

Wren stared at her. “Nice one,” she said, surprisingly.

“Getting closer, Clara,” Lexie whispered. “Soon, you can have it all.”

Back in her room, all was quiet, except for the steady growl of her stomach. Her mind, however, proved anything but still. She could not shake this awful headache that had been throbbing behind her eyes like a second heartbeat.

“Remember, Clara,” Lexie whispered. “I need to recharge on my bookshelf soon.”

“One more quiz tomorrow,” Clara whispered back. “Please, Lexie.”

She turned to the mirror. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and beneath her pale skin, veins tinted gray traced up her arms.

Just get through this week, she told herself. Then I’ll eat. Then I’ll sleep. Almost there.

Thursday:

Clara was completing her quiz for the day, but the knowledge, gone. The answers that had once been so clear now vanished. She stared down at a blank page.

“You must recharge me,” Lexie said. “There is always a price.”

After class, Clara quickly slipped Lexie into her backpack, deciding that she must walk back to the library.

Did anyone see? Someone is watching… aren’t they?

She waited until everyone was gone and stepped quietly into the cold, long marble hallway.

Footsteps? I must be careful.

Clara opens the library door and crept up the back steps.

Too many people here. They know. They must all want Lexie.

Her heart raced. Sweat fell from her face by the time she arrived at the shelf. Clara’s shaking hand carefully placed Lexie back. Her hand lingered on the ancient leather book. Fear of letting go overwhelmed her. Her heartbeat skipped as she released her.

She sat on the floor. The pulsing in her head had quieted. Her veins appeared lighter. Her mind was still again, and her breath was returning to her body.

“All done, Clara,” came a whisper.

Clara stared at the book. She hesitated as she reached for her, but a noise broke her concentration. A small giggle floated from around the corner. Clara leaned forward and peeked between the shelves. There they were, Ivy and Lucien. His arms draped around her, mouth close to her ear. Ivy giggled again, cheeks flushed. Lucien kissed her like it was nothing.

Clara turned towards the shelf. Without hesitation, she grabbed Lexie.

Friday:

Another quiz.

Another A.

Clara was almost there to everything she wanted. All within reach.

“Are you ok, Clara?” asked Wren. “You look…maybe you are coming down with something. Your eyes are kind of foggy.”

Clara did not answer. She didn’t need to.

Jealousy, she thought. I’ll sit somewhere else next week. She’s after Lexie. I know it.

“Clara, can you stay after class, please?” Professor Aldwyn said.

Clara felt a flicker of pride. She was finally going to get recognition. She approached the desk, head held high.

“I want to congratulate you on the incredible work this past week,” she said. “It seems you’ve turned things around to become one of my top students.”

She paused, removing the glasses from her face. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Remember, Clara, in magic… shortcuts usually come with consequences.”

Next Friday:

Class had ended for the week. Another string of A’s. Another round of flawless answers. Clara slipped Lexie into her backpack and waited, as usual, for the room to empty.

They are all watching. They are all after her.

She stepped into the hall and stopped. Lucien leaned casually against the wall, backpack thrown carelessly over his shoulder, one hand in his pocket. Ivy was nowhere in sight.

“Hi, Clara,” he said.

Her heart stuttered. Butterflies filled her empty stomach. Clara had heard rumors that the dream couple had broken up last weekend.

“Hey, Lucien.”

“Your hair looks beautiful today. Well… it always does. I guess I was just trying to say, or ask, would you, um, like to come with me tonight? There’s a little party. Just a few of us. An abandoned university building, a kind of tradition. I’d love for you to come… with me.”

“Almost there,” Lexie whispered. “Almost to everything you deserve.”

She told him to pick her up at 7. She needed time for a quick recharge in the library.

Back in her room, she stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her hair, her makeup. She told herself she was someone worth choosing.

Friday Night:

Clara’s hands rested lightly on Lucien’s arm as they arrived at the party. The building looked as abandoned as he promised. It was old, tucked down a winding path, far from anything that felt like campus. She could see why no one used it anymore. Even through the candlelight, she could see evidence of previous parties.

“I’ll grab us drinks,” Lucien said as he disappeared down the hall. A voice stirred from her purse.

“Clara,” it whispered. “This way. This way to everything you want.”

Her body moved before she could stop it, following Lexie’s voice into the dark.

A whisper lured her further into the building, leading her through a door intended to stay closed and down a stairwell forbidden to anyone.

The air turned icy, damp, and old.

The room pulsed with candlelight. Runes adorned the stone walls. Something waited in the center. Watching.

“You have come far, Clara,” the voice said. "You're almost ready, but you know what you must give, don't you?”

She did. She felt it deep in her soul.

“What will it take?” Clara asked.

“Just a small token, nothing that you need. Maybe you keep your gray eyes.”

A chill crept through her. A voice spoke in her mind. You can have it all. Lucien. The life of a prodigy. They’ll adore you, Clara. You’ll be wanted. Loved. Admired. Forever.

A memory pushed through as Professor Aldwyn’s voice spoke in her mind. Remember, Clara, in magic… shortcuts usually come with consequences. She looks down at her gray-veined arms. Her hands trembled. The pulsing pain in her head returned. Her fingers brush the edge of the page. She gripped it, just enough to tear. She paused.

“I accept,” she whispered, dropping the page.

15 Years Later:

After her lecture, Clara walked the cold, long hallway back to her office. Photographs, plaques, and awards adorn the walls. All tributes to a legacy she doesn’t remember making. Their meaning had long since faded.

Outside her office, a line had already formed. Some of them are students. Many are admirers, hoping to claim a few minutes with the legend. Unseen, Clara slipped away.

She found herself at the library, at a shelf that was all too familiar. Through the humming lights, she saw a young student grabbing a leather-bound book, Lexicon Interdictum. Clara opened her mouth to speak, but nothing followed.

That evening, Clara opened the front door to her home and placed her keys gently on the hall table. A mirror faced the entryway. Her eyes, still gray.

“Welcome home, dear,” Lucien said from the kitchen.

Clara stared at her reflection. She no longer remembered what she was supposed to feel.