Page 77 of To Dwell in Shadows
When he burst through the library doors, Selene was sitting at a desk, surrounded by dozens of candles burning with eerie blueflames.
“What’s wrong?” The words flew out before he could stop them.
“Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s right!” Her eyes shone with excitement. Then, seeing his expression, she winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry. But you’re not going to believe what I found. Come here.”
He exhaled with relief and crossed the room to drag a chair beside her. As he sat, Selene closed the book she had been reading.
“I used the traveler’s stone to scry and see where you were. Then I sent Zetta to find you,” she explained, patting the hellhound’s head. “I needed you to see this.”
“What is it?” Sam asked, still catching his breath.
Selene turned fully to him, her excitement barely contained. “I came looking for information about the Dark Sovereign. Honestly, I didn’t expect to find anything more than a footnote.” She touched the crumbling book resting before her with careful fingers. “But then… I found this.”
Sam looked down at the ancient tome. Letters had been carved into the cracked leather. When he read the faded title, the hairs on the back of his neck rose. “Is that…”
“It is,” Selene whispered.
Eyes wide, he said, “I thought it had been destroyed.”
“It was hidden,” Selene said, quickly explaining how she had found the book. Sam listened intently, his fingers tracing the cracked leather binding, worn smooth by centuries of time. A rusted lock was embedded in the book’s binding, fastening covers together.
“Have you looked inside?” he asked.
Selene nodded, her cheeks flushing with excitement. “Look.”
When she held a candle near the lock, it popped open with aclick,allowing access to its contents. She turned the yellowed pages with great care, the brittle parchment crackling softly beneath her fingers. Most were dense with hand-lettered script—looping, archaic characters inked in rust-red, their meanings lost to all but the most ancient scholars. Then she stopped, tapping a page with the tip of herfinger.
A rough, black-and-white illustration filled the space. It showed an ancient king with the head of a goat, long curling horns that spiraled toward the sky, wings flaring from broad, human-like shoulders, and cloven hooves.
“The first Dark Sovereign,” Selene murmured. “Baphomet. At least, the first recorded.”
She flipped forward, more urgently now, but still careful with the fragile pages. She stopped before another portrait, this one rendered in rich paint. The colors were faded but still alive: blood-reds, obsidian blacks, and glints of gold. It showed a young king sitting on a throne, chin raised, authority carved into every sharp feature. A crown of spikes encircled his head.
Recognition made Sam gasp. “It’s my father.”
The edge of the portrait was uneven, jagged, as though it had once been torn free and then hastily reattached. The pages that followed were loose, crumbling at the edges, their contents written in slanted, archaic script. As Sam read it as best he could, he realized it was the prophecy that predicted Baphomet’s fall, and Asmodeus’ ascension.
Through fire and dusk, where shadows cling,
A demon of Wrath shall rise as king.
By Thronefall Flame, his fate is sworn,
To claim the name of darkness reborn.
“This is incredible,” he said softly. He lingered over the portrait and prophecy, then glanced at the final pages of the book, finding them blank.
“Is that all?”
“Not quite,” Selene said.
Carefully, she peeled back the inside edge of the leather binding on the back cover. Tucked within was a folded sheet of paper. Slowly, she pulled it free, holding it chest, shielding it from view.
“Are you ready?” she asked, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Yes.”
Selene laid the hidden page before him. It was another portrait, but it was unlike the others—this one was darker, more vivid. The edges were shadowed, as if scorched, and yet the image in the center was unmistakable.
