Shelves of Silence

Beneath the Umbra Hall,

deeper than the training rooms,

beyond the iron doors sealed by sigils,

was a library untouched by time.

It smelled of forgotten dust and burnt wax,

where books breathed softly in the dark,

and silence was not absence—

but reverence.

Reymond descended the spiral stairway alone.

His blade hummed faintly at his side,

as if uneasy among the ink and memory.

At the bottom, he found her.

A girl sat behind a desk of blackened oak,

her face hidden beneath long strands of silver hair,

her eyes so pale they looked like glass.

She didn't look up from her book until he stepped into the dim glow of the chandelier.

"What are you looking for?" she asked, voice soft as cobwebs.

"The Book of the Unknown," Reymond replied.

"Something beyond the standard Compendium. Something older. Deeper."

She closed her book gently.

"Ah. You want to see them properly."

She gestured to the long corridor behind her, rows upon rows of spines like gravestones.

"Left wing. Isle B. Third row. There's a book there—bound in gray hide. Titled…"

She paused, as if tasting the name.

"The Wound That Sees."

Reymond furrowed his brow. "Thank you."

She smiled faintly.

"My pleasure. Don't lose your eyes while reading."

He found the aisle.

Beneath the flickering torchlight, books whispered to each other.

The one he sought stood out immediately—

its cover stitched from something that might have once lived,

the title carved, not written.

The Wound That Sees

He opened it.

And the pages bled secrets.

Ten. Ten beasts known to the Order.

Ten patterns carved from agony.

Reymond read, eyes devouring every line.

Hands trembling, heart pounding.

Every creature burned into his mind.

Armaguli

"Bone giants in cracked porcelain skin. Blind, but they sense heartbeat vibrations."

Weakness: Remain utterly still, let your pulse slow. Then strike at the spine—its only soft point.

Lingerin

"Sees you only when your eyes are open. Disappears if you blink, reappears closer."

Weakness: Mirror-lined hoods to block eye contact. Lingerins lose shape when unseen for long.

Mourveils

"Winged women who cry lullabies that melt flesh. Sound becomes a weapon."

Weakness: Wax-plugged ears and vibrations. Must be slain before song finishes its final verse.

Nethrowls

"Burrowers. Wait beneath your bed, under floors. Attack from below. Hate moonlight."

Weakness: Sleep in elevated ground, surround area with crushed lavender—its natural repellent.

Hollowend

"A mimic of your dead. Only seen in dreams. Kills through sleep paralysis."

Weakness: Burn its name into an obsidian shard before sleep. If it speaks, do not reply.

Thretchel

"Beast of fractured limbs. Snaps its own bones to create weapons mid-attack."

Weakness: Lure it into narrow corridors—it can't twist or turn quickly. Strike during its reset.

Ipharex

"Smoke creature with a thousand mouths. Feeds on confessions and secrets."

Weakness: Say nothing. Silence blinds it. Speak lies to poison it.

Crivian Maw

"Mass of teeth disguised as puddles. Waits for prey to step in."

Weakness: Rock salt. Dissolves its body. Always throw salt before stepping in unknown liquid.

Drouncar

"Imitates voices of loved ones calling from outside your home. Never stops knocking."

Weakness: Burn rosemary at the doorstep. It recoils from warmth and family bonds.

Velmire

"A beast made of shadows stretched across walls. Attacks from angles that shouldn't exist."

Weakness: Flood the room with moving light—fire, not electricity. Its form splits when shadows dance.

Reymond read for hours.

Every description, every weakness,

every twisted method of killing etched into his brain

like runes carved into bone.

He memorized them.

Drilled the patterns into his mind.

Breathed in their rhythms.

So he could fight.

So he could survive.

So he could be ready.

But as he reached the final page,

he felt his heart freeze.

There was no mention

of the thing that wore his mother's skin.

No window-tapping, voice-mimicking, grin-splitting thing.

"It's still not here…"

He closed the book slowly,

feeling the shadows coil tighter around him.

The Unknown that shattered his life...

wasn't known.

Not even by this.

As he returned the book to the shelf, Silvahna looked up from behind the desk.

"You found what you needed?"

Reymond stared back at her, voice hollow.

"No. But I found what I have to become."