The first time CH 63
Chapter 63 Three days Three whole days of dust coveted books, glowing runes, strange titles written in ancient ink, and Francesco’s quiet company beside me. And finally, it’s done I stand in front of the tall cabinet he ordered for me–wood polished smooth, the scent of pine lingering faintly, Inside, Anastasia’s legacy warts, each beck humming with something Lean’t explain. Magic. Memory. A warning, maybe. “Thinking I should read it all… God, I groan, rubbing the back of my neck. Francesco chuckles behind me, warm as wrapping around my waist. “I know you could do it, he says against my hair. I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the small smile that sneaks onto my lips. “I’m serious,” Insutter “What if one of these explodes or turns me into a bond?” “You’re beautiful even as a toad,” he says without missing a beat, and I elbow him gently still, I reach out. Let my fingers hover over the worn spines of books that haven’t been touched in decades–maybe a century And then it happens. One of them glows. A soft silverlight, pulsing beneath the cover like a heartbeat. 1 freeze. So does Francesco “That’s new,” he mutters “I didn’t touch it,” I whisper in shock. The glow strengthens. The book–thinner than most, with cracked edges and a faded title i can’t read–rattles gently against the others, like it’s calling me. My breath catches. My well, Hika, stirs within me Touch it. I reach out, fingertips brushing the leather. The moment I do- The room disappears. Darkness swallows me whole. No scent. No sound. Only pressure, like I’m underwater. Then a flicker of candlelight appears in the distance, growing closer with every heartbeat. Shapes begin to form. A room. Old stone walls. A circular mirror on one side. Books–hundreds–lining the shelves. And at the center, a woman in a flowing white dress with raven–black hair, her back to me. She turns Anastasia 1/3 Chapter 63 She looks like the painting once restored in the museum, same like the last time i saw her in my dream. Only now, her eyes areve, stormy bite and deeply sad “You came,” she says softly, I don’t know if I’m breathing. “Where am I?” “Inside the book “He voice is calm, echoing gently like a distant chime. “A piece of me…preserved for you” the steps closer. “My blood lives in you now. My gif. My curse “I’m not a witch,” I whisper. Her eyes soften. “Not yet.” Anush of wind swirls around us, and suddenly images flood the air–flashes of her life. A younger Anastasia, barely twenty, running barefoot through the woods, robes torn and blood on her hands. Howling behind her, Rogues. She stumbles across a border carved with warding runes–Francesco’s territory That was their first meeting A memory flickers. She lies unconscious, surrounded by warriors. Francesco, younger then, approaches her cautiously. Their eyes meet. And in that exact moment, she casts the spell The borid. The illusion of fate. Anastasia stands beside me now in the vision, watching her younger self weave the magic “It was wrong,” she whispers. “But I was desperata. They sent me for that purpose–to make him fall for me. They were going to kill me if Itailed.” More memories appear: Anastasia smiling sweetly at Francesco, touching his arm, whispering carefully chosen words. Magic humming behind every glance. He believed they were fated. He believed he loved hor “I tried to make him fall in love with me,” she says bitterly, “And maybe he did. But not in the way he thought” Tears sting my eyes. “You created a false bond. “Yes. One built on survival. Not truth.” Her voice is raw. “But in time, I think I loved him. I just never knew how to stop lying.” … Read more