Confronting Shadows

Chapter 6: Confronting Shadows

Fiona's POV

The morning light streamed through the tall, arched windows of the castle, casting a golden hue across the stone floors. The warmth of the sun should have been comforting, but it did little to ease the tension knotting in my stomach. I’d hardly slept after Quinton left my room last night, our conversation replaying over and over in my mind.

We had agreed to stop fighting the bond, but what did that really mean? How could I let myself trust him, or anyone, after everything that had happened?

I tried to push those thoughts aside as I made my way through the castle’s winding halls, heading for the library. It had quickly become my sanctuary—a place where I could escape from the overwhelming reality of my new life.

The towering shelves of books, the scent of old paper, the quiet stillness of the room… it was a world away from the turmoil in my heart.

When I reached the library, I found it empty, as usual. Most of the castle’s inhabitants had little interest in spending their time among dusty tomes, preferring instead the training grounds or the grand hall. That suited me just fine. I needed the solitude to think, to breathe.

I walked slowly between the rows of shelves, letting my fingers trail along the spines of the books. My mind wandered back to the conversation with Quinton. He’d been so different, so… open. The man I’d seen last night wasn’t the cold, distant Alpha King I’d come to know. He was vulnerable, almost lonely. It had caught me off guard, making me question everything I thought I knew about him.

But there was still so much I didn’t understand. About him, about the bond, about this life I was now tied to. And every time I felt like I was starting to figure it out, something new would happen to throw me off balance.

As I reached the far corner of the library, my eyes were drawn to a book on the top shelf. It was an old, worn volume, its leather cover cracked with age. Something about it seemed out of place, as if it didn’t belong among the more pristine books surrounding it. Curiosity piqued, I reached up to pull it down, but the moment my fingers touched the spine, a strange sensation rippled through me.

A flash of heat, followed by a rush of energy that made my pulse quicken. I yanked my hand back, startled. What the hell was that?

My heart raced as I stared at the book, now more intrigued than ever. Whatever this was, it wasn’t normal. And if there was one thing I’d learned since coming to the castle, it was that nothing here was ever simple.

I reached for the book again, more cautiously this time. As my fingers closed around the spine, the same rush of energy surged through me, but I forced myself to hold on, determined to figure out what was happening.

The book was heavier than it looked, and as I pulled it from the shelf, I noticed something strange: a small symbol etched into the leather, barely visible against the dark surface. It was a crescent moon entwined with vines—a symbol I didn’t recognize.

Curiosity turned to suspicion as I carried the book to one of the nearby tables and set it down. I opened the cover slowly, half-expecting some otherworldly force to leap out at me. But there was nothing—just yellowed pages filled with dense, handwritten text.

I squinted at the writing, trying to make sense of the ancient script. It wasn’t in any language I recognized, but there was something oddly familiar about it, as if I’d seen it before in a dream or a distant memory.

The longer I stared at the text, the more it seemed to shift and blur before my eyes. I rubbed my temples, trying to shake off the dizziness that suddenly washed over me. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

I pushed the book away, my breathing quickening as the room seemed to spin around me. The walls, the shelves, the books—they all blurred together in a haze of light and shadow. I gripped the edge of the table, struggling to stay upright, but the sensation only intensified, like a tidal wave crashing over me.

Then, just as quickly as it began, it stopped. The dizziness faded, and the room snapped back into focus. I blinked, disoriented, as I realized I was no longer alone.

Quinton stood in the doorway, his expression tense, his eyes locked on me. I hadn’t even heard him enter.

“What’s going on?” His voice was sharp, laced with an urgency that made my heart skip a beat.

I shook my head, still trying to make sense of what had just happened. “I… I don’t know. This book—I felt something when I touched it. And then—”

Quinton crossed the room in a few swift strides, his gaze shifting to the book on the table. When he saw the symbol on the cover, his expression darkened. He reached out, but then hesitated, as if wary of the book’s power.

“Where did you find this?” he asked, his voice low.

“In the library,” I replied, my pulse quickening again. “Why? Do you know what it is?”

Quinton didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he carefully closed the book and turned it over in his hands, examining the symbol. His jaw tightened, and I could see the tension in his shoulders as he took a step back, putting distance between himself and the book.

“It’s not supposed to be here,” he said finally, his voice grim. “This is a book of old magic—ancient, dangerous magic that hasn’t been used in centuries. It should have been destroyed long ago.”

A chill ran down my spine. “Destroyed? Why?”

“Because the magic in this book is forbidden. It’s dark, corruptive. Anyone who tries to use it risks losing themselves, their mind, their soul.” He met my gaze, his eyes filled with a warning. “You should have never touched it.”

I swallowed hard, a sense of dread settling in the pit of my stomach. “But I didn’t use it—I just touched it. And… something happened.”

Quinton’s expression softened slightly, but the concern in his eyes remained. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, feeling a shiver run through me. “It was like… the room started spinning, and I felt this strange energy, like something was trying to pull me in. But it only lasted a few seconds.”

Quinton exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as he considered my words. “The book must have reacted to your touch. It’s possible that because of our bond, you’re more sensitive to certain kinds of magic. But whatever it is, it’s not safe. We need to get rid of it.”

He turned to leave the library, the book still clutched in his hand, but I wasn’t ready to let it go. There was something about that symbol, something about the energy I’d felt, that gnawed at the edges of my mind. It was like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit, but I couldn’t ignore it.

“Wait,” I called after him, my voice more urgent than I intended. “What if… what if this book has something to do with the bond? What if it can help us understand it better?”

Quinton paused, his back to me, and for a moment, I thought he might actually consider it. But then he shook his head, his grip tightening on the book.

“No,” he said firmly. “This book is too dangerous. I won’t risk it.”

“But—” I started to protest, but he cut me off with a sharp look.

“Fiona, I’m serious. The magic in this book isn’t something we can play with. It’s not worth the risk.”

I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling up inside me. I knew he was trying to protect me—trying to protect us—but there was a part of me that couldn’t let go of the feeling that this book was important. That it held answers we desperately needed.

But Quinton wasn’t going to budge, and I didn’t have the energy to fight him on this. Not now, not when I still felt so shaken by what had just happened.

“Fine,” I muttered, my voice tight with suppressed anger. “Do whatever you want.”

He hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say something more, but then he turned and left the library, the heavy door closing behind him with a finality that echoed in the empty room.

I stood there for a long time, staring at the spot where he’d been, my thoughts racing. The encounter had left me more confused than ever. I wanted to believe that Quinton was right—that the book was too dangerous, that we couldn’t afford to mess with that kind of magic. But something inside me wouldn’t let it go. Something told me that the answers I sought were just within reach, if only I had the courage to pursue them.

But how could I, when the one person I needed to trust was keeping me in the dark?

The rest of the day passed in a blur of restless pacing and half-hearted attempts to distract myself. I wandered the castle aimlessly, my mind consumed with thoughts of the book and what it could mean.

I barely registered the concerned looks from the servants, or the way they quickly averted their eyes when I passed by. They could probably sense the turmoil brewing inside me, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

By the time evening fell, I was exhausted—physically, emotionally, mentally. But sleep was the last thing on my mind. Instead, I found myself drawn back to the library, my steps slow and deliberate as I approached the door.

I knew Quinton would have hidden the book somewhere—probably in a place I could never find. But that didn’t stop me from feeling the pull, the inexplicable urge to go back to where it all started. Maybe there was something else, something I’d missed.

As I reached for the door, a sudden chill ran down my spine, and I froze, my hand hovering just inches from the handle.

Something was wrong.

I could feel it in the air, a heaviness that pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe. My instincts screamed at me to turn back, to run, but before I could react, the door swung open on its own, revealing a figure cloaked in shadow.

I gasped, stumbling back as the figure stepped into the light, its eyes glowing with a malevolent energy.

And then I realized, with a sickening jolt of fear, that it wasn’t a stranger standing before me.

It was me.

The shadowy figure wore my face, my clothes, my very essence. But its eyes were cold, empty, filled with a darkness that sent shivers down my spine.

“Who—what are you?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

The figure tilted its head, a twisted smile curling on its lips.

“I’m you,” it said softly, its voice a haunting echo of my own. “But not for long.”

Before I could react, the shadow lunged at me, its

form dissolving into a swirling mass of darkness that engulfed me, pulling me under.

And then everything went black.