An Invitation to Knowledge

I have no recollection of how I left the training grounds.

The deathly silence behind me felt like a cold sponge, utterly absorbing my capacity for thought.

Mechanically, I made my way into the changing room. The noble young ladies around me, as if encountering a plague, silently cleared a wide berth.

The subtle flattery and veiled envy that once encircled the identity of “Lilliana” had vanished entirely.

In its place, a far more primal and unadulterated emotion now reigned.

—Fear.

They feared me.

I changed back into my ornate yet constricting school uniform, my fingertips trembling faintly from the lingering dread.

I dared not even glance at my reflection, terrified I might glimpse a pair of cold, hollow red eyes that were not my own.

I needed to find a place to calm myself.

Somewhere utterly quiet, where no one would disturb me.

My feet, almost unconsciously, led me once more to that familiar sanctuary.

—The Academy Library.

****

As I pushed open the heavy oak doors once more, the familiar, comforting scent of old books finally brought a measure of calm to my wildly beating heart.

Without pausing for anyone, I went directly to the window-side corner I had occupied yesterday, sinking deep into the high-backed armchair.

Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the open pages of a book.

I repeatedly flipped through “Introduction to Mana Perception and Meditation,” desperately searching for even a hint of an explanation regarding consumption and annihilation within its foundational theories.

But there was nothing.

The dark-attribute magic described in the book spoke of ‘erosion,’ ‘weakening,’ and ‘creating illusions.’

While insidious and arcane, they bore no resemblance to the utterly illogical, absolute ‘nothingness’ I had just manifested.

That black shield defied the very laws of this world.

What, precisely, had it been?

The more I pondered, the deeper the chill that permeated my very bones.

This vessel I inhabited, this being known as “Lilliana,” might be a thousand times more perilous than I had ever imagined.

As I sank into my thoughts, my fingertips growing cold, a shadow fell silently across my book.

I snapped my head up.

Elinor von Windermere, at some point, had come to stand beside my table.

Today, she wore the same impeccably tailored black gown, her moon-white hair cascading smoothly down her sides.

Her gaze was not on me, but on the open book before me. Within her beautiful amethyst eyes, a subtle knowing gleamed, accompanied by a smile that bespoke understanding and acceptance.

“Still… revisiting the fundamentals, Lilliana?”

Her voice was soft, yet it pierced deep, like a precise scalpel dissecting my every pretense.

“…Madam Windermere.”

I closed the book, my body tensing instinctively.

“It appears you’ve encountered some… perplexities that basic texts cannot resolve.”

Finally, her gaze shifted to me, the knowing smile on her lips more pronounced than yesterday.

“Such as… how to explain a defense capable of erasing existence itself.”

My heart skipped a beat.

She knew, indeed.

Perhaps, from the moment I entered the library, I had already stepped into her web.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It took every ounce of my strength to keep my voice steady.

“Is that so?”

Elinor did not argue.

She extended a slender finger, gently tucking a stray lock of black hair behind my ear.

Her fingertips were cool, carrying the faint, cold scent of tuberose.

Yet that delicate touch left me rigid, as if a viper’s tongue had brushed my skin.

“Light and shadow are the two faces of this world.”

Her voice dropped further, imbued with a dangerous magnetism, almost like a lover’s whisper.

“But between these two faces, there exists… a chasm of nothingness. It is a forbidden domain, one so troublesome even the gods dare not speak of it. A chaotic cradle… capable of devouring all, and yet, of birthing all.”

She leaned in close, her warm breath caressing my ear, sending a subtle shiver down my spine.

“The answers you seek are not here.”

With a fingertip, she gently tapped the pitiful “Introductory Reader” before me.

“They lie… in a higher place.”

With that, she straightened, retrieving a small, obsidian-carved key from the pocket of her gown. She placed it softly upon my book.

The key had an ancient, rustic shape, its head adorned with a crescent moon relief.

“The key to the restricted section on the top floor.”

She smiled, her violet eyes gleaming with the playful glint of a hunter.

“Occasionally, even a librarian feels the urge to guide a lost lamb. Of course, whether the lamb chooses to go… depends entirely on its own courage to explore itself.”

She uttered not another word.

Turning, she glided back to the service desk with elegant, silent steps, once more transforming into the witch in her ivory tower, seemingly cut off from the world.

I was left alone, sitting dumbfounded in my spot.

On the table, the cold, pitch-black key seemed imbued with a fatal magic.

It lay there quietly, like Pandora’s Box, waiting for me to open it.

To unlock…

…the deepest secret of “Lilliana,” a secret that might very well consume me.