The bell above the bookshop’s door jingled as a figure entered, their face shrouded by the hood of the heavy cloak they wore. The shopkeeper, an old woman with pale gray skin and frizzled tufts of white hair sticking out from under a misshapen bonnet, waited at the counter. A black cat lay sleeping in front of her, its ear twitching in slight annoyance at the disturbance.
It was far too late in the evening for customers, yet the old woman seemed to be expecting her guest all the same. She watched the cloaked figure rummage through the books on a nearby shelf, her amber eyes following intently for a bit before she cleared her throat to get their attention.
“Anything I can help you with?” she asked. The figure hesitated, then stepped up to the counter cautiously.
“I was told you may possibly carry items of, ah… magical properties,” a man’s voice said quietly from beneath the hood. The old woman grinned slyly, leaning forward to try and see the man’s face. As though sensing what she was trying to do, he backed away and pulled the hood further down.
“And who exactly told you about that?” the old woman inquired.
“Just a rumor I overheard,” the man replied. The old shopkeeper gave him a snaggle-toothed grin and beckoned to him. Again, the man hesitated, but took a few steps to where she sat behind the counter. The woman got up from the stool she had been perched on and took hold of the cane sitting next to her. She hobbled to the wall behind her and ran a hand down the wood panel until she found what she was looking for. Hooking her claw-like nails into a small groove, she pulled until part of the wall came away to reveal a set of stairs leading down into darkness.
“Follow me,” she ordered as she began to slowly descend. The cloaked man did as he was told, trailing a hand along the rough stone wall as he followed. After what felt like an eternity, they reached the landing, which led into a dark open space. The entire room suddenly lit up with a wave of the old woman’s gnarled hand, and the man looked around in wonder. Every wall was lined with shelves, and every shelf was filled with books and other occult paraphernalia. Strange dead creatures hung suspended in jars of liquid, and bundles of strange-smelling herbs hung from the ceiling.
“Feel free to take a look around,” the old woman said. “I’m going back upstairs. The cold down here is too much for my old bones.” She then turned and hobbled back up the stairs, and the man waited, listening to her shuffling footsteps as she returned to her place at the counter. He shivered, not from the cold, but from the pulling hum of magic that surrounded him. Despite being surrounded by the magical sensation, he only had one interest, and judging by the strong magical pull coming from the back of the room, he had found what he was looking for.
When he was sure the woman would not be coming back down, he followed the sensation toward the back wall and crouched down. Taking one more cautious look around him, the man ran his hand over the wall, looking for a groove as the woman had done upstairs. Upon finding it, he hooked a nail behind the panel and pulled it away, stifling a gasp at what he found. Behind the panel was a dusty old tome, and blowing the dust away revealed its black leather-bound cover adorned with magical symbols. Magic seemed to hum loudly through it.
Heart racing excitedly, he passed a hand over the book to ensure no wards had been placed on it. When he detected nothing, he grabbed the book and stuffed it into his cloak before hurrying back up the long stairway, hoping to leave quickly before the woman became suspicious. She was sitting on her stool behind the counter when he emerged, and she turned to watch him as he hurried for the door. The cat was awake now and watched him with suspicious yellow eyes.
“Find what you were looking for?” the old woman asked.
“No, I didn’t,” the man lied calmly, “but thank you.” He expected resistance when he went to open the door but found none. The bell rang loudly in his ears as he hurried outside, and he felt that any moment now she would call him back to her or possibly even strike him dead on the spot. She didn’t, however, and the man kept walking briskly down the road, keeping to the shadows as he made his way to the main gates of the town.
He looked back once as he passed through the gates, expecting to be followed, but saw no one, and laughed at himself for being paranoid. He was free, and no one was going to stop him. He turned again and broke into a sprint toward the small village in the distance, beyond which he had set up camp within the vast forest.
Only one small cabin stood in the path he took as he neared the forest, though he paid it little mind as he skirted around it, not stopping until he was well beyond the treeline of the forest. Once he was far enough in, he slowed and walked the rest of the way to his camp. He pulled off his hood as he entered the camp, then sat by the fire pit and pushed a tress of long hair out of his face before lighting a fire with a snap of his fingers. Finally, he removed the book from his cloak, running a hand over the worn leather before resting it on his lap and flipping the cover open. Only a single line of runes was written on the heavy parchment, and the man’s excitement turned to confusion as he read them. The words suddenly began to glow, and he sucked in a terrified breath as the runes flashed and enveloped him in a bright light.
Aeturnus Chronicles 