The morning sun poured through the slatted shutters of the library, painting long golden streaks across rows of dust-coated tomes. A faint scent of parchment and ink lingered in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of wood polish. Aeris hunched over a sprawling desk at the back of the library, his calloused fingers gingerly turning the fragile edge of an ancient scroll.
His dark brown hair, always slightly unkempt, caught the morning light as it fell over his face. A single strand brushed against his cheek as he squinted down at the faded script. His skin was pale, more so than most of the abbey's inhabitants, a consequence of spending most of his time indoors surrounded by books. His soft green eyes, the color of dew-laden leaves, were filled with a quiet curiosity, though they were beginning to show faint shadows underneath—signs of yet another late night lost in reading.
The library of Eldenroth Abbey was Aeris' haven. Tucked away in the northern wing of the sprawling complex, it was a maze of towering shelves, each crammed with books and scrolls. The librarians had long since given up on any sort of organizational system; Aeris suspected half the texts had been placed wherever there was room. And yet, to him, it was perfect. The chaos was comforting, each misplaced book a hidden treasure waiting to be uncovered.
The abbey itself was ancient, with walls of gray stone weathered by time. Cracks spiderwebbed across the ceilings, and ivy crept in through gaps around the windows. Outside, the sound of bells rang faintly, signaling the monks' morning prayers. Aeris had never felt particularly devout, but he respected the rhythm of life at the abbey—it gave him time to work without interruptions.
Interruptions from humans, at least.
A harsh caw shattered the silence as a sleek black raven swooped down from the rafters. Fennick landed with a graceless thud on the edge of Aeris' desk, scattering loose pages.
"Not again, Fenn," Aeris muttered, brushing the papers back into a stack.
Fennick cocked his head to the side, his dark, beady eyes gleaming with mischief. The feathers on his chest were a little scruffy, as though he hadn't bothered preening that morning. His left wing twitched impatiently, and his talons clicked against the desk as he hopped closer to Aeris' lunch—half a loaf of bread wrapped in cloth.
"Don't even think about it," Aeris warned, pointing a quill at the bird.
Unbothered, Fennick let out another caw before snatching the cloth with his beak and yanking it halfway off the bread. Aeris sighed, grabbing the loaf just in time and tearing off a small piece. He tossed it toward the raven, who snapped it up mid-air.
"Happy now?" Aeris muttered.
Fennick croaked in what could only be described as smug satisfaction, flapping his wings and flying off to the nearest windowsill.
Aeris shook his head, turning back to the scroll. The script was in Old Elyndran, a language long abandoned and replaced with newer dialects. Deciphering it was painstaking work, but Aeris found it oddly relaxing. His world narrowed to the faded ink and the careful strokes of his quill as he copied the text into his notebook.
The peace didn't last.
Heavy, hurried footsteps echoed through the hall outside the library. Aeris barely looked up, assuming it was one of the younger novices running late to prayer. But the door slammed open, startling even Fennick, who let out a startled squawk and fluttered to a higher perch.
"Aeris!"
Brother Lin stood in the doorway, panting. He was a stout man with rosy cheeks that were perpetually flushed, whether from exertion or the constant heat of the kitchens. Ink stains dotted the cuffs of his simple brown robes, and his thinning gray hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. His round, bespectacled eyes widened as they locked onto Aeris.
"What is it, Lin?" Aeris asked, standing slowly.
"The abbot…" Lin wheezed, placing a hand on his side. "He… wants to see you. Now."
Aeris frowned. "The abbot? Why?"
Lin waved a hand, still trying to catch his breath. "Didn't say. Just… looked serious."
Serious wasn't a word Aeris often associated with Abbot Aldric. The old man was a quiet but sharp-eyed figure who rarely involved himself in the day-to-day affairs of the abbey. Aeris had always assumed the abbot tolerated his odd habits simply because it was easier than arguing with him. For Aldric to summon him directly… something wasn't right.
"All right, I'm coming," Aeris said, tucking his notebook into a satchel and slinging it over his shoulder.
The abbey's halls were cool and dim, lined with stone arches and flickering sconces. Lin led the way, his heavy steps echoing as they passed novices preparing for morning chores.
"What's this about, Lin?" Aeris asked again.
Lin hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. His ruddy face was pinched with unease. "I don't know the details," he admitted. "But the abbot had that… that book with him. The one from the archives. I've never seen anything like it."
Aeris' curiosity flared. The abbey's archives were vast and largely inaccessible, reserved only for the abbot and the senior scholars. For Aldric to pull something from the depths of the archives and then call for him…
They reached the abbot's study, its heavy oak doors carved with intricate symbols of divine protection. Lin knocked twice, the sound reverberating through the hall.
"Enter," came a low, measured voice from within.
Lin pushed the door open and stepped aside to let Aeris through.
Abbot Aldric sat at his desk, his long white beard flowing over his simple robes. His deep-set eyes, the color of storm clouds, regarded Aeris with an unreadable expression. In his hands was a book bound in cracked leather, its surface etched with faded symbols that seemed to pulse faintly in the dim light.
"Aeris," the abbot said, his voice grave. "There's something I must show you."