"Impossible," she whispered, the word escaping like a prayer in the silent antechamber.

  The ancient tome sat open on a marble pedestal in the antechamber to the Great Hall of the Illumination Tower, its weathered pages spread like wings across the white and blue veined stone. The chamber resonated with strong preservation and protection magic—a complex ttice of spells that had kept the book intact for millennia. Dust motes danced zily across beams of morning light that filtered through narrow gss windows.

  Amriel Vardon stood before the tome, her fingertips pressed against her palms so hard they left crescent-shaped indentations in her skin. She hadn't moved in nearly twenty minutes. The chill of the chamber had seeped into her bones, but she barely noticed, transfixed by what y before her.

  Her cobalt eyes—striking against her olive skin, and a trait inherited from her father's Khymarh bloodline—traced the curling patterns of symbols inked in an impossibly steady hand. Symbols that had mocked schors and witches alike for five millennia, yet now seemed to whisper directly into her mind.

  Her heartbeat roared in her ears like the spring rapids of the Tendracil River where she'd spent summers as a child, leaping from the water-polished boulders while her father called warnings from the shore. Warnings she'd invariably ignored.

  Holy shit. I can understand this!

  She blinked hard, reaching up to tuck a strand of glossy, raven-bck hair behind her ear. Three sleepless nights researching healing balms for the upcoming practical exams had left dark circles under her eyes. Perhaps exhaustion had finally driven her to hallucination.

  This isn't happening. This cannot be happening.

  Since its discovery two thousand years ago, the greatest minds in the Seven Kingdoms had tried to decipher even a single line of this text. Five thousand years of failure. The legendary Archmagus Keiran had spent forty years studying it before decring it "a puzzle meant for minds yet to come." Master Elyana Vos had gone mad trying to unlock its secrets, ciming in her final days that the book spoke to her in dreams.

  The brass pque mounted before the dispy gleamed in the colored light:

  THE TOME OF LYGENESS Dated to the Early Third Era. Origin Unknown. Property of the Illumination Tower Do Not Touch – Protected Artifact

  Almost every day for the past four years, she had walked by this tome on her way to Advanced Anatomy and Physiology. She'd stopped to ponder over it countless times while waiting for friends, entertaining herself with wild theories about its contents. The tower guards knew her by name—Watchman Dorren often joked that she'd wear a hole in the floor with her pacing.

  "Still trying to crack that old book's code, Miss Vardon?" he'd ask with a wink.

  "Someone's got to do it," she'd retort with a grin.

  But never once had the tome made any sense. Not a single symbol. It was just a nice thing to look upon and wonder about between csses and infirmary shifts. Nothing more.

  Until today. And now the damned thing was speaking to her.

  "Oh, come on," she muttered, gncing around to make sure no one was watching her talk to herself. Again. "I've got three exams this week, a shift at the infirmary tonight, and I'm operating on about four hours of sleep. I do not have time for ancient enigma’s that have stumped schors for millennia to suddenly decide I'm special."

  One hand csped the iron ring that hung about her slim neck on a leather thong—her father's parting gift before going off to war. A war he never truly returned from, at least not as the man who had left.

  Her lips parted, shaping the words soundlessly, the ancient sylbles feeling both foreign and familiar on her tongue, their meaning unfurling with the inevitability of a bde being drawn from its sheath.

  When silver fire rains from the heavens, and shadows stretch beyond the breaking dawn.

  When the hymn of forgotten stars is swallowed by silence.

  When the st of the Starlight Witches falls—The Door to Eternity shall open.

  She clenched her teeth, forcing herself to read on, unable to look away even as a rational part of her mind screamed that this was exactly how horror stories about possessed students began. The part that had gotten her through her father’s death, her mothers abandonment, and the sometimes out right mental torture of her Professors, refused to back down now.

  And from its boundless depths, the patient shall emerge—those who have kept endless vigil.

  Destinies shall unravel as easily as they weave them anew.

  Beware, for not all who enter shall return.

  And those who do may never be the same.

  A violent shiver tore through her as she broke out in a cold sweat. The iron ring pressed into her flesh as she clutched it tightly.

  Five thousand years of silence, and now the Tome of Lygeness had chosen her. Revealed itself to her.

  Shit.

  A terrible certainty settled in her bones as she tucked the ring back beneath her tunic.

  Her week was about to get worse. Just so much worse.

  The blood rushed inside her head until her pulse was all she could hear. She took a step back, her heel catching on the uneven fgstone that master archivists cimed had been id by Lygeness himself.

  Then she collided with something solid. Warm. Alive.

  A sharp gasp escaped her as strong hands gripped her shoulders, firm but careful, keeping her upright. The touch sent a jolt through her system, as if her body had forgotten that the world contained anything but ancient words and dire warnings.

  "Whoa there, Reil," a familiar voice drawled, warm with amusement. "If you're going to fall for me, at least give me some warning."

  A fresh surge of heat raced up her neck as she turned and found herself looking up into the warm, dark brown eyes of Niko Vrasic.

  Damn it.

  Of all people, it had to be him. The only person in the entire Lyceum who could make her forget herself entirely with just a stupid smile.

  His grin—the same one that had earned him far too many admirers among the students of the Lyceum—curved at the corner of his mouth as his hands lingered just a second longer than necessary before releasing her.

  “You alright?” he asked, cocking his head slightly. His voice held its usual teasing lilt, but there was an edge of curiosity beneath it. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or worse.”

  Then, with that infuriating grin of his, he added, "Don't tell me you fell asleep in the library again and drooled all over the books. Archivist Thorne nearly had an apoplexy st time."

  Amriel blinked, still reeling, her thoughts a tangled mess of ancient prophecies, cryptic warnings, and the fact that Niko was still standing far too close. The familiar scent of pine resin and leather clung to him.

  Say something normal, she begged herself. Act like you haven't just discovered a five-thousand-year-old prophecy that might herald the end of everything.

  "I—no, I didn't drool," she managed weakly, cringing internally at how pathetic it sounded.

  Niko's brow arched, and she instantly regretted her choice of words. The tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened.

  He smirked mischievously, "That," he mused, studying her with altogether too much perception, "sounds exactly like something a person who definitely drooled would say."

  She folded her arms across her chest. “For your information, Vrasic,” she huffed, summoning every ounce of composure she could manage, “I was not napping. I was studying.”

  "Studying?" he echoed, his eyes dancing with mischief. He leaned in slightly, voice dipping into a conspiratorial whisper. "Is that what we're calling daydreaming with your mouth open these days? Because if so, I've been studying my entire life."

  Amriel’s breath hitched—barely, but enough that she wanted to kick herself. He was too close. You're supposed to be smarter than this, Riel. But her body was betraying her, heat creeping up her neck for an entirely different reason than ancient prophecies.

  She opened her mouth to retort—to wipe that smug look off his face—but before she could, salvation arrived in the form of Niamh Liandris.

  "Riel! There you are!"

  Amriel had never been so relieved to hear her best friend’s voice.

  The elegantly arched doorway framed Niamh as she strode in, golden sunlight spilling behind her, catching in the gleaming red bun she had twisted atop her head. She moved with a bouncing energy that seemed to brighten the ancient chamber, her practical robes, cinched tight at the waste, somehow looking fashionable despite the institutional cut.

  Her sharp pale green eyes flicked between Amriel and Niko, a knowing smirk curving her lips.

  “Morning, Niko,” she greeted smoothly, barely hiding her amusement. “Am I Interrupting something?”

  Niko straightened, stepping back just enough to give Amriel room to breathe.

  “Nothing but academic brilliance,” he quipped, fshing that damnable grin one st time before turning toward the Grand Hall. “See you inside.”

  Amriel exhaled sharply, watching him go.

  Damn him.

  Niamh’s smirk deepened as she crossed her arms.

  "You're blushing," she observed, not bothering to hide her delight.

  Amriel groaned.

  She was never going to hear the end of this.

  Niamh waited until Niko’s footsteps had fully faded before crossing her arms and tilting her head at Amriel.

  "You didn’t drool?” she echoed, her voice brimming with disbelief. “That was the best you could come up with? Seriously?”

  Amriel groaned, dragging a hand down her face, which still felt too warm. “Don’t. Just… don’t.”

  Niamh fshed a mischievous grin, “You’re lucky we’re te for css,” She said.

  Amriel shot her a halfhearted gre, but the corners of her mouth twitched despite herself.

  "You’re insufferable, you know that?”

  "Obviously," Niamh grinned, bouncing slightly on her toes. "It's part of my charm." But then something in her expression shifted. The teasing edge softened, repced by genuine concern as she took a closer look at Amriel.

  Her smile faded.

  "Hey," she said more gently, squeezing Amriel's arm. "What's really wrong? You look like you just walked out of a nightmare. And I don't think it's just Niko's devastating charm that's got you looking so spooked."

  Amriel opened her mouth to brush it off, but her throat was dry. "I'm fine," she croaked, and even she didn't believe it.

  How could I even begin to expin it?

  “Riel,” Niamh said softly, stepping closer. “You don’t have to tell me everything. But you’ve got that weird panicked look you get when something really bad happens.”

  Amriel wanted to—needed to—but how did you put into words something that shouldn't be possible?

  How did she tell her best friend that she had understood a nguage no living person could read? That the Tome had whispered its ancient warnings to her and her alone?

  Her lips parted, but nothing came out.

  Niamh studied her for a second, then let out a resigned sigh, squeezing Amriel's shoulder. "Alright, fine. Think about it and tell me ter." Her bright smile returned, though concern still lingered in her eyes. "But right now, we need to get a move on or we're going to be te. Again. And Master Fenris threatened to make us scrub the mortuary tables if we were tardy one more time this month."