My Darkening Ember

Chapter Thirty - Nine

The locked section had four isles of books, all vertically lined up in the room. The walls and floors were of black and white marble, while the light fixtures were a calming colour, dimming the room.

Mayra burst forward, sniffing up every level of books she could, moving from one big shelf to the next before she finally stopped at the third aisle.

"Now this is taste," she said and bit her lip, pulling out a big book encased in red leather.

"I don't even want to ask," I narrowed my eyes, gliding to a different section at the back, away from her lustful gaze already scanning the pages.

My eyes drifted over the many headlines calligraphed on the spines of the books. They all had names I had never heard of. Names of countries, people, and even stories, whether they were fantasy or not I had no idea.

I spent hours there, reading silently at the back of the library, there was a large window with stained glass and a wide sill where I could sit, away from Mayra's incessant giggles. I figured she had found a book with taste, and where I had placed myself I was far away enough for it not to bother me too much.

By the time the day was almost gone I was fully feed of books. Exhaling deeply I rose, practically surrounded by stacks of books I had collected. Mayra's giggles had stilled hours ago and I wondered if she had fallen asleep. I wouldn't put it past her snoring away with a book over her head.

I let my eyes drift over the shelves once more before one book caught my eye. Written by Robert J. Wrinkle, A plague from the gods. The bind was black but the name was in gold. I carefully pulled it out.

It was small, only a little bit bigger than my hands. I lifted the cover revealing the first page, where, in ink, one sentence occupied an entire page.

Dear Ianna, my love. I write this book despite the cruel sentence I will pay for it, only in a vain attempt to find my own peace again. He will pay, not with life but by blood.

I caught my breath and slammed the book shut. This was someone's work, inspired by revenge, I could feel it through the words. A great pain had created this book, and something dark had encouraged it. Slowly, I opened it again, eyeing the sentence a few times before flipping the page, and revealing the next paragraph.

This book is the work of Robert J. Wrinkle. It might never see daylight but at least it will exist. The story within this book is not mine, but it is crafted out of my memory. A memory of a sweet love turned to ash by an inhuman creature. To understand what an ungodly beast could have done this, you must understand the origin of the black bloodstone.

Many centuries ago, a dark stone fell from the sky, landing on a mountaintop. The ice cooled it, melting it into a black lake below. With time, the stone became part of the mountain but the lake remained. As black as the night, any earthly creature that drank from it died within seven days. Their eyes became hollow and as black as their blood.

The waters were not meant for our earth.

It was plague herself, cast out by the gods for being too cruel. She threw herself at the earth, hardening into stone but still alive, encased within her own prison.

There, her anger grew and she vowed to destroy the kingdom that worshipped the gods, by letting her anger flow out like tears, forming what became the lake.

Any creature with only a fraction of good in its heart would suffer the seven-day plague and succumb to a cruel death.

Only, mankind learned the lake's secret. They learned how to harness the strength from the plague's power, becoming like a trace of her. These creatures are the Mile men. Once human, but now a plague.