Page 90 of Skyshade
What am I looking for?
A book cursed closed, the feather wrote. Isla wasn’t sure she understood. How could a book be cursed?
She didn’t suppose it would simply be sitting on a shelf, and she hoped it wasn’t one of the ones that had fallen to the floor.
Most of the books didn’t even have titles, or covers; they were simply leather-bound. She had to flip them open and read a few paragraphs before moving on. After doing so for hours, she realized it would be weeks before she got through the entire collection. And she had only a few hours before Grim would summon her for dinner.
If the book was important, it would be hidden. She studied the walls, looking for levers or special panels. She remembered searching the libraries on Lightlark, and looked in the hearth too.
Nothing.
It was only when she was stacking the books she and Grim had knocked down that she realized one book had remained in the middle of the center row, when all others around it had fallen.
Strange.
She shook the shelf, waiting for it to fall loose. But it didn’t move an inch. As if it was stuck.
Or enchanted.
Isla grabbed one of the sliding ladders and climbed to the shelf.
She studied the book carefully without touching it, not wanting to force it out with her abilities and potentially harm it.
It looked just like the others. Thick black leather cover, creased by time. Spine engraved in a swirling pattern. There was just one thing that set it apart. Strange stains against its pages.
Isla expected it would take all her might to pull the book free. But the moment her hand curled around it, the book released its hold, and slid against her fingers.
Strange. She climbed down and set it on the table. It had a force around it, power she could feel clicking against her bones.
It was only when she went to turn the page that she realized the stains upon it were blood.
Isla stumbled back just as the book flew open. Cursed. It was supposed to be cursed closed, according to Aurora. She expected an attack, a storm to rise from its pages, blades to careen through the air...but there was nothing.
Only parchment and faded ink.
Her flair had saved her.
Her father was the only person she knew of who’d had her flair. If the book was cursed, then perhaps it hadn’t been read in millennia. Even though, judging by the blood, many had tried.
She sank into a chair and rushed to flip through the pages, reading as quickly as she could.
If she had been expecting page after page of skyres...she was wrong. Every page was blank.
She grew more frustrated as she flipped through them. “Help me find the portal,” she begged in a whisper. She needed to close it, stopthe storms, stop the death. She needed to use it to extend the time she had. She needed to hope it would be enough to change her fate.
The pages remained empty until the very end.
Undeterred and without any other options, she flipped from the beginning and tried again, to see if she had missed something.
This time, ink began to form. It was as if the book changed every time it was read. A few sentences were revealed, far away from each other. Most didn’t make sense out of context.
Then, on the last page, there was a skyre. An ornate marking that looked almost like a rose, encased in an orb.
It had no description. Part of her itched to simply paint it upon her skin, to test it out...but it would be a risk. It could do anything. She remembered the blacksmith’s warning.
She flipped back to the first page and started again.
Grim surprised her by taking her to the village for dinner. He must have noticed how much she had loved it.
