Mike pulled something from his hoodie pocket.
A black thread. Laced in faint, glowing symbols.
Selene didn't recognize it. But her body did.
She felt a wave of something cold and ancient roll through her bones.
"You're not supposed to read books like that, Mike," she said, her voice trembling now.
He stared up at her with blank, glowing eyes.
"I didn't read it," he said. "It read me."
Selene's fingers trembled as she stared down at the object her son had just handed her.
The thread in his hand—etched with glowing symbols, soaked in energy no child should be near—was just the edge. She recognized it now. She'd seen something like it before, deep in the forbidden sections of the Arcane Codex, back when she trained in the capital's magical order. A thread like this meant only one thing.
The Book of Echoed Shadows.
Her heart thudded. She looked at Mike—no, her baby. The boy she carried, protected, fed, kissed every night to sleep. But now, staring into his unblinking, too-aware eyes… he felt like something else. Something borrowed.
"Mike," she whispered, kneeling. "Where did you find this?"
"I didn't find it," he said, voice almost dreamlike. "It found me."
She felt a cold shiver ripple down her arms.
Enough.
She snatched the thread from his hand. "You won't touch this again."
For a split second, his face twitched. A flicker of something… ancient… passed across his expression. But then, it was gone. Just a confused, sleepy child stood before her now.
She rose and strode out of the lounge, heart pounding.
Down the hall.
Into the hidden stairwell—behind the tall bookshelf in the east wing.
Mike had never been allowed down there.
Because it wasn't a basement.
It was a sanctum.
Selene stepped into the glowing circle at the center of the stone chamber. The light torches along the walls lit automatically as her magic flared. She knelt in the circle and opened a concealed floor panel. From it, she pulled out a sealed glass cube—crafted by Archmage Elinthor himself—used to contain forbidden arcana.
Then, from inside her robe, she pulled the actual book.
A small, leather-bound volume with no title on the front. It was ice-cold to the touch.
Selene hissed as it pricked her fingers. Drops of her blood soaked into the leather instantly.
It pulsed.
The book fed off energy. Even now.
She didn't wait.
She threw it onto the pedestal in the center of the circle and began the First Method of Destruction: The Fire of Erasure.
Her fingers danced through the air, forming glowing runes. Flames burst upward from beneath the pedestal—holy fire, pulled from the forge of the Moon Cathedral.
The flames engulfed the book.
It screamed.
Not audibly—but inside her mind. Twisting, terrible voices clawed at her sanity.
Still, she stood firm.
Until the flames died.
The book sat there—untouched. Not a single burn mark.
It laughed. She heard it. Mocking her.
She gritted her teeth and began the Second Method: The Chant of Dissolution.
She began to whisper in a dead language. Her voice echoed unnaturally in the chamber, bending air, shaking the floor.
This chant was forbidden. It unraveled reality at its edges.
The book trembled, the space around it distorting.
For a moment, she thought it was working.
But then—snap.
The spell shattered.
Backlash surged into her body. Selene screamed and collapsed to her knees, blood dripping from her nose.
Still, the book remained. Silent. Whole. Watching.
She was breathing hard now. Magic flickered violently around her hands.
"One more," she growled. "One last way."
The Third Method: The Rite of Complete Unmaking.
She drew her dagger and sliced open her palm. Ancient glyphs spilled from her blood into the air, glowing red.
This ritual required sacrifice.
A piece of her soul.
She whispered the words, let the blood burn midair, and offered a fragment of herself into the void.
The chamber turned black for a moment—emptied of all light. Even the flames froze.
She felt her own mind dim for a second. Her memories—of Leon, of Mike, of childhood—drained slightly.
And then…
Light returned.
The pedestal was empty.
She blinked.
Had it worked?
But no.
Behind her, on the cold stone floor, the book sat once again—completely untouched.
Selene fell to her knees.
It was… immortal.
Bound by something older than the gods.
She couldn't destroy it.
But she could still protect her son.
Rising slowly, she summoned a containment box forged of white voidwood—a rare, lightless wood that muted magic. She carved seven seals across the lid. Arcane chains wrapped around the box, each rune locking tighter than the last.
She placed the book inside.
It hissed, fought, but the seals held.
With a wave of her bloodied hand, she pushed the box into a hidden dimensional fold—sealed away from time, thought, and memory.
Then she staggered to the nearby shelf and pulled out a glowing, silver-covered tome.
A child's spellbook—harmless, enchanted with protective wards, healing chants, and light.
She held it tight and ascended back into the house.
---
Later…
Mike sat on his bed, holding a warm mug of milk, blinking slowly.
Selene entered his room quietly. She knelt beside him.
"Hey, sweetheart," she said softly.
Mike looked at her, eyes bright, gentle… innocent.
"Hi, Mommy," he said.
She felt tears spring into her eyes. Relief and sorrow knotted inside her.
"I brought you a book," she said, offering the glowing silver tome.
His eyes lit up with curiosity. "Magic?"
She smiled. "Good magic. The kind that helps people. Want me to read it to you?"
He nodded eagerly. "Yes! Please!"
Selene climbed into bed beside him, wrapping one arm around his small shoulders.
As she opened the book and began to read gentle chants of kindness and healing, her eyes kept glancing at him.
Mike giggled softly at the glowing pictures and repeated the chants back in his tiny voice.
He's just a boy again, she told herself.
But deep down, a part of her knew.
The book wasn't gone.
It was watching.
Waiting.
And it would return.
But not today.
Tonight, her son would sleep peacefully.
And she would protect him—even from the darkness that had already touched him.