Page 148 of Sage Haven
But curiosity gnawed at me.
Who was Reich really? And why did I feel this unbearable pull toward him? What was it about this house? These rooms?
I needed answers.
So, I stepped into the hallway, silence folding around me. Everything about this place was deliberate. Quiet. Heavy with purpose.
The corridor stretched ahead of me, bathed in filtered light through tall windows. Beyond them, the forest stood still and watchful. Shadows danced across the floor like restless spirits.
A door caught my eye.
A sliding barn door, rich with cedar grain.
I pressed my palm to it and slid it open.
Inside, the scent of Reich hit me harder.
Woodsmoke. Leather. A faint trace of eucalyptus.
This was his space.
A library.
Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the room, stacked with books worn at the spines from use. Vinyl records were organized meticulously on low shelves, and original artwork—some of it dark and unsettling—hung on the walls.
I ran my fingers over the spines of the books as I wandered deeper inside.
Physics. Philosophy. Psychology. Religious conspiracies and ideological warfare.
And then literature. Worn. Thumbed through. Well-loved.
But a specified book caught my eye. Black leather-bound. Worn, Heavy and incredibly thick.
Eiloud Naphal Ascendancy.
My pulse jumped.
Something about the book caused my skin to crawl, a burn of something foreign came rising in my throat as I studied the cover. Something ancient and otherworldly about its exterior that gave it an eeriness that I couldn’t shake.
As I picked the book up, I swore I saw a shadow move into the peripheral part of my vision. I shrugged it off, that feeling of being watched, as I opened up and peered into the contents of this strange book.
Inside, the pages were filled with symbols—some familiar, most not. But one stood out.
The same symbol inked into Reich’s skin. Castor’s too.
What was this? And why had I felt like I had seen it before meeting them?
I explored into the book farther, a mess of symbols and what looked like complex mathematical problems were littered throughout. An uneasiness settled in the more I tried to decipher the foreign book.
An ice like chill crept behind my back, as I caught more shadows within my peripheral. Something about the book felt wrong. Like something I wasn’t supposed to see.
I set the book back, hands trembling, and moved to the record player.
The needle was already set.
I flicked the switch, and the record crackled softly.
Music enveloped the quiet space.
