The faint light of dawn painted the mansion in muted hues as Mathew stepped out of the car, a heavy stack of books in his hands. The weight wasn't just physical—it was the burden of the knowledge they held, the answers they might reveal, and the questions they might leave in their wake.
A figure stood by the front door, arms crossed, silhouetted against the faint light spilling from the hall. Alden didn't speak as Mathew approached, but the disapproval in his posture was as clear as the rising sun.
"You're up early," Mathew said casually, breaking the silence as he climbed the stone steps.
"I'm up because someone decided a midnight stroll was the appropriate time to raid the library," Alden replied coolly, his eyes narrowing on the stack of books.
Mathew stopped before him, shifting the weight of the books in his arms. "I needed information."
Alden's eyes flicked to the worn leather bindings and then back to Mathew. "And you couldn't have waited until morning?"
"I couldn't sleep," Mathew admitted. "Figured it was better than staring at the ceiling all night."
Alden's lips thinned, but he didn't press further. His gaze shifted to Calum, who had followed Mathew up the steps and now stood awkwardly, carrying the remaining books.
"Thank you, Calum," Alden said, his tone polite but pointed.
"No trouble at all, Mr. Alden," Calum replied, his voice lighter. "Glad to help."
"Let's get these to the study," Mathew said, cutting the conversation short as he pushed past Alden into the house.
The familiar warmth of the mansion greeted him, the scent of polished wood and faint traces of incense lingering in the air. Mathew led the way to his study, his mind already racing ahead to the books and the secrets they might hold.
Calum set his stack of books down on the desk with a grunt. "You've got enough reading material here to keep a university busy for months."
"Hopefully, I won't need that long," Mathew replied, glancing over the titles.
Calum stepped back, dusting his hands off on his trousers. "Well, if you don't mind, I'll leave you to it. Long night for both of us."
"Thank you, Calum," Mathew said sincerely.
The driver tipped his hat, offering a small smile. "Anytime, sir. Just try not to wear yourself out."
Mathew watched him leave, then turned back to the desk. He pulled out the chair and sank into it, his eyes scanning the titles before selecting the first book.
It was an old, cracked tome, its title etched in faded gold: *On the Nature of Demons and Angels.* The pages were delicate, filled with intricate diagrams of celestial hierarchies, demonic sigils, and stories of battles fought between the realms.
He lost himself in the text, absorbing descriptions of princes of hell, their cunning and cruelty, and the endless war waged by angels to maintain order. One chapter in particular caught his attention: the tale of the Nephilim.
It described their rise, their unparalleled power, and their downfall—a betrayal orchestrated by both heaven and hell. Mathew read the words with an increasing sense of unease. He had no connection to these events, yet the story stirred something deep within him.
A strange sadness settled over him, mingling with an unspoken anger. He closed the book with a heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling.
"You've been busy," Alden's voice interrupted his thoughts.
Mathew glanced up to see his butler standing in the doorway, carrying a tray with coffee and breakfast.
"Just catching up on some light reading," Mathew replied, gesturing to the mountain of books on the desk.
Alden set the tray down and raised an eyebrow. "If that's what you call light, I'd hate to see your idea of heavy."
Mathew smirked, taking a sip of the coffee. "How much have you overheard?"
"Enough to know you've been digging into some very dark corners of history," Alden said, crossing his arms. "Care to explain the sudden interest?"
Mathew hesitated, his fingers tracing the rim of the coffee cup. "I… needed to understand some things about myself."
Alden's expression softened. "And did you?"
"Not entirely," Mathew admitted. "But I'm closer than I was."
Alden nodded slowly. "Just remember, Mathew, answers often come with consequences. Make sure you're ready for them."
Before Mathew could respond, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house. His heart quickened. He didn't need to check to know who it was.
Alden turned toward the door. "I'll get it."
Moments later, Isabel stepped into the study. Her presence seemed to fill the room, her beige dress flowing elegantly as she moved. Her hair was tied back neatly, and there was a grace about her that made her seem almost otherworldly.
"Good morning, Judge," she said with a slight smile.
"Where's Udo?" Mathew asked, his tone sharp but curious.
"Running an errand," Isabel replied smoothly. "He'll join us soon enough."
She approached the desk, her eyes skimming over the books. "Interesting selection. Expanding your horizons?"
"Something like that," Mathew said.
Isabel turned her attention to Alden. "Shall we begin?"
Alden stepped forward without hesitation, standing still as Isabel began murmuring incantations under her breath. A faint glow enveloped him, and her expression grew serious.
"This is no ordinary memory block," Isabel said after a moment. "It's intricate. Whoever did this knew what they were doing."
"Can you break it?" Mathew asked.
"I can," Isabel said, her voice steady, "but it won't be easy. I'll need to put him into a deep sleep, and you'll have to enter his mind to unlock the memories yourself."
Mathew's brow furrowed. "Enter his mind? That sounds… dangerous."
"It is," Isabel admitted. "You'll need to stay focused. Lose yourself in there, and you may not come back."
Alden, ever loyal, nodded without hesitation. "If this is what's needed, then let's do it."
Isabel placed a jewel on Aldens chest and gently tapped his head, immediately Alden went into a deep slumber.
"There," Isabel said, satisfied.
Before Mathew could respond, the door creaked open, and Udo entered, carrying a cloth-wrapped object.
"What's that?" Mathew asked, eyeing the imp suspiciously.
Udo grinned nervously. "Just a little something to help. Don't worry about where it came from."
Isabel unwrapped the cloth, revealing a gleaming horn.
"A unicorn's horn," she said, her tone solemn.
Mathew raised an eyebrow. "I thought unicorns were harmless."
Isabel smirked. "Not the kind you're thinking of. Real unicorns are vicious fae creatures with a taste for flesh. This," she held up the horn, "is a rare and powerful artifact."
"Borrowed, of course," Udo added quickly, avoiding Mathew's glare.
"Stolen, you mean," Mathew said dryly.
"Semantics," Udo muttered, crossing his arms.
Isabel turned to Mathew. "Take off your shirt and lie beside Alden."
Mathew hesitated but complied. He lay down, his chest bare, as Isabel positioned the horn over him.
"This won't hurt—much," she said, then plunged the horn downward.
There was no pain, only a strange pulling sensation. Mathew looked down to see his body lying still on the floor, while he floated above it, weightless and translucent.
"It worked," Isabel said, pleased. "You've got a few hours before your body pulls your soul back. Be quick."
Mathew nodded, steeling himself. "Let's do this."
With one last look at Isabel and Udo, he stepped into Alden's mind, the world dissolving into a swirling void.
Only Udo's voice came to his ears, ever so faintly, " Good luck Judge Broody".....