Page 41 of Fated for Flames

Following Professor Wren’s instructions, I set off, venturing beyond the campus grounds. Passing the professors’ cottages, I speculated about Lucien and Rafe’s residence. The four cottageswere neatly lined up, with a larger, more secluded one nestled among trees at the back, likely theirs.

I kept on the path through the woods, passed through an iron gate, and continued on the route. I hadn’t even been aware there were any off-campus buildings apart from the cottages. As I walked and walked, almost ready to turn back, the forest gave way to a clearing. Before me lay a beautiful pond, its surface mirroring the sky, and beyond it, a mansion stood in quiet grandeur. It was stunning. I half expected to see Jane Austen stroll out the front door, maybe even waving a manuscript at me.

Was this someone’s private residence?

I had assumed “private collection” referred to a special section reserved for rare books, not to a personal collection housed separately.

Regardless, I needed answers.

The instructions were to enter through the front door, take a left at the sculpture, and find the library at the end of the hall. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door and stepped into the stunning home.

The sight before me was awe-inspiring, as though I had been transported to another era. Beautiful artworks adorned the walls alongside fine tapestries, and the air carried the scent of aged amber.

The urge to “peruse” was way stronger now!

I reluctantly turned my attention to finding the sculpture. With about five in view, only one stood near a corridor. Taking that as my cue, I turned left and proceeded to the end.

The large doors at the hall’s end stood open, revealing a room where shelves laden with books towered above me, their spines worn and colors faded with age.

A sense of reverence washed over me as I took in the wealth of knowledge housed within these walls. The room wasvast, with towering ladders and a dome-like ceiling that bore a painting reminiscent of Michelangelo’s works.

Goddess, who owns this house?

With each step deeper into the room, my heart thumped louder in my chest. This was it; I was on the brink of finding not just the answers I had claimed to Professor Wren I wanted to research but also those concerning the siphoning of magic, sacrificial rituals, and a question that had haunted me all my life—the mystery behind my eyes.

27

Evelyn

Ihad been here for two hours already, and I needed to pee.

Like really bad.

Emergency-level bad, but I had no clue where the bathrooms were. This was a private residence, after all; it wasn’t like there were any signs.

The mansion was eerily silent.

With a huff of resignation, I rose from the mahogany table where I had been reading ancient tomes. The urge to pee had reached a critical point, and my bladder was no longer open to negotiation. Leaving behind the towering stacks, I ventured out into the mansion’s labyrinthine corridors, in search of relief.

I passed countless doors and crossed numerous halls, each more grandiose than the last. This wasn’t a simple mansion; it was a monument to opulence, the very embodiment of aristocratic excess. And yet it was oddly devoid of life. Therewere no murmurs of staff or distant conversations echoing through the halls.

Finally, after turning one too many corners and ascending a winding staircase, I found it, a small door tucked away in a quiet corner. The bathroom was quaint with its vintage fixtures and clawfoot tub, an odd contrast to the rest of the mansion’s grandeur. Even the freaking hand soap smelled divine, like lavender fields on a summer’s day.

Relieved and slightly lighter on my feet, I retraced my steps back to the library. The silence of the mansion seemed even more pronounced now, almost oppressive in its totality. Could it be that I was alone? Maybe this offered an opportunity for a little “perusing”?

It was practically begging me at this point, but I resisted the urge.

Back in the library, twenty or so books lay scattered across the table. Most were on dark magic, forgotten spells, forbidden rituals, and sacrifices once performed but now deemed unethical. But nothing that explained why only women in my lineage had golden eyes.

My mother had promised to tell me when I was older, a secret I couldn’t wait to hear. But she’d died before she could reveal it, taking the truth with her to the grave.

I made my way back up the ladder, and up, and up, and up. There was so much to cover. It would take me weeks to go through the sections.

My logic was simple: the more important or dangerous a book, the less likely it would be in plain sight. Instead, they’d be stashed away in hard-to-reach places.

This is why I now found myself so high up the ladder. The higher I climbed, the air grew denser with the scent of ancient parchment and forgotten lore. It was intoxicating—the smell of books always did something to me.

At last, I reached the top, a dizzying twenty feet off the ground. Below me, the library stretched out like a sprawling kingdom of knowledge waiting to be explored.

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