(Based off of Down In The Library Basement by Rona Vaselaar)

The castle was built centuries ago. It was and is still is standing tall and wide for the audience to admire. Reds from the nearby towns look up and think about what the interior designs must be like. They think about how big the rooms must be and how clean the bathrooms are. The attached garden must be covered in flowers, roses of all color. The kitchen must have the most exotic foods and exquisite tastes. And the library must be huge, home to thousands of different covers and genres. 

Nobody expected the library to be covered ceiling to floor in dust. The books old, fragile and sensitive. The only person who had the heart to maintain the old room company was Julian Jacos. But his presence was not much of a chore. Even the lights in the room are old, flickering and not holding their piece. Only a small fraction of the library even lights up.

It's the corner near the journals from people in the time when Reds and Silvers first began to battle. The light there remains yellow, bright and illuminating a small chair in the corner of the room. Julian sits in the chair every day. He picks a book off of the shelf and begins to read a passage from a novel. And as he does, the lights will start to flicker. Start to turn completely on. 

-

Julian hugged Mare goodbye, holding her tightly. So many things have gone wrong in Norta. So many things he wanted to protect. So many promises he made. He passes the library door near his escape. The darkness that looms from the peek in the door tries to lure him in. One more passage, it begs. One more story. He shakes his head. It's somebody else's turn to care for these stories. Somebody else has to read to the spirit of those before our time.

Maven picks up the paper slid from under his door. The side of it is rigged, torn from a notebook. He runs his fingers across the ink. It smears. Still wet.

The library in the castle? 

He hasn't stepped into that room since he was a child. He remembers sneezing and being dragged away by his mother. Scared. His mother was scared of that room. So he grew to be scared of that room too. 

But Julian wants him to go in there?

The letter had intricate details on the areas in the library, the flickering lights, the single chair. Read a book outloud and alone, sitting in their chair under the single light. After reading, leave a cookie on the side table and exit. No need to shut the lights off. They'll shut off on their own.

A chill runs down Maven's spine. Alone in that room? He didn't even want to think about it. What will his mother think if he emerges head to toe in cobwebs and dust. Plus, orders from a man like Julian? 

These orders seem personal. Like he chose Maven. 

Maven taps his fingers on his desk, staring down at the letter. He might as well. What's the worse that will happen? 

Maven grabs a cookie from the kitchen, one that was just laying on the counter. The chefs must have gotten accustomed to this everyday routine as well. All of this was happening under everyone's nose. How did no one see this? Maven shakes his head, he already knows the answer. Who the hell is going to pay attention to the library?

Plus, it's not a crime to go into there. 

So why does he feel scared stepping in?

The shelves are huge and reach higher than his hand. He sneezes upon his first breathe. Still dusty. He makes a note to ask a servant to clean up around here. He goes for the light switch. No positive results. These are the infamous flickering lights, aren't they? Flickering at the end of the corridor, luring Maven in. He steps closer. That's when he sees it. There's the chair. The table next to it and the light, present and proud. Waiting for him to sit. Maven calmly turns to the shelf to his left and grabs a book, holding it close to him. He didn't even look at the title.

The chair squeaked as he sat down. The table next to him became the holder of the cookie, and he notices a pattern of marks deeply carved into the table. He crossed his legs, opened the book and began to read. The silence was crucial. He could hear his own voice echoeing through the halls. He tried to ignore the ghostly images that would appear in the corner of his eyes. Why did he agree to stay in this dark room? 

After a while, the books next to him seemed to stare at him. He felt as if they were watching him, listening to his words. He starts taking deep breathes. He's too scared to stop reading.

The lights start to turn on in the library, each with a low groaned pop of the chandelier. He jumped. Swallowing hard, he puts a piece of paper into the book and begins to stand. The library doesn't look scary in the light. It almost looks... beautiful. 

He returns the book to where he left it. He shuts the door, closing his eyes with a sigh. He has more things to worry about. 

You shut off the lights before grabbing the cookie. Your favorite flavor, as Julian figured out long ago. You begin to nibble on it.

Maven sneezes the remainder of dust out of his nose. The words every day started to weigh on his shoulders. That room. He still gets a weird feeling when thinking about it. He waves down a servant and orders them to clean the front of the library. "Don't go to the back, okay?" The servant sadly nods their head and begins to head that way, head hanging low. Maven wonders if that's what he looked like walking there a mere hour ago. 

The next day Maven found himself secretly looking forward to his time in the library. When he finally entered he found it quite pristine compared to the day before. He picked out the same book and put a cookie on the table. The treat from yesterday was gone.

You watched as he searched the library for the little treat. You place your hands on the floor, hunching over as the plastic wrapper exits your mouth. Then, you back up and return to your corner. 

Maven spots the wrapper, grabbing it before pulling back in shock. It was wet. Warm. He lifts it in the air and throws it away. Then he sits. And he reads. And you listen. He starts getting used to it. He wishes you goodnight most days. He starts leaving candy bars alongside the usual cookies. 

"Where'd you put my book?" He asks, searching for his current read. Does he even know who he's talking to? What he's talking to? You hold the book in one of your hands. You can see him through the books on the shelf. You sit in darkness. 

He collapses on the chair, rubbing his temple. You lift one of your hands and push one of the books off of the shelf. He looks at it, picking it up. You back away from the light.

"You want me to read a diary?"

The book was a bright red color, looking new and pristine compared to the century-old books around it. It made Maven shiver. Something wasn't right about it. Yet he still opened it, checking if the ink was wet. It was dry. That made him feel better.

"September 1st, 09."

Three hundred years ago? Maven sits up straight. This book was around for three hundred years. It suddenly feels ancient in his hands. It is a diary entree. He reads through the verses, almost feeling like he was living in those times. Those times where whoever wrote this was spending their days hiding away. People searching for them. The cold air in the area. Maven could almost feel it. 

He imagined being in hiding. What that must have felt like.

Who were they hiding from?

He began to skip pages, trying to find the answer to his question. Running and running and running. How long have they been running? Through November, through December, and the book suddenly ends. It didn't make it to the year 10. The last entry. It speaks of hands. Many hands. Scientists trying to figure out what makes the blood silver. 

This person has been running from scientists. What was there power? They are silver, yes?

The lights around the library start to flicker before turning on. Telky? A telky with a sweet tooth? 

"Are you a ghost?" Maven asks, standing up. His heartbeat is loud in his ears. He puts the book in the spot where it sat before. His legs started trembling from under him. 

Silence. The library is always silence. 

And the book falls out again. But Maven sees something. Something pushes it down. A hand. He leans down to grab the book, gazing at the areas between the book to try and look behind the shelf. Nothing. He can't see anything. There is nothing there.

A haven, must be. 

"You're a Haven, aren't you?" No response. He didn't expect one. He picks up the book.

"Does this book belong to you?"

You walk to the end of the shelf, looking at him as he still tries to peak through. Your body, long and immortal, clings to the books with all of its might. Your first two hands hold you to the floor. Your other ones are on the walls around you, wrapping around the bookshelves and holding yourself. 

And he will never notice you. Your hands grab at the chandelier, tapping it to make the light flicker. 

Maven looks through you, wondering where the source of that was. 

Then, the door opens. Someone walks into the library. Someone with heels and hair tied into a tight bun.

"Maven?" Elara calls out, her voice sharp. You inch back into your corner, knocking books off of the shelves on your way. Your hands turn off the lights on the chandelier one by one, putting the library into darkness. Elara looks around in horror.

"Leave this room right now!" 

Maven stands tall, shaking from where he is. He drops the diary and heads towards the door. Not before looking down the line of books first. He makes eye contact with a pair of cloudy white eyes that hunch into a corner, trying to shrink. He stops walking and just stares. He looks at your hands, the ones that protrude from your body like a spider. He's never seen a human, creature, or animal look as scared as you did. 

Elara grabs his hand, pulling him out of there. And you sit in darkness, waiting for him to return again.