Ines tentatively opened the library door, monitoring the candlelight flickering across the aged rug, and listened intently to check no one was hidden in the bookcases. As she squeezed through the gap between the door and wall, afraid to open it further in case the old hinges creaked and alerted anyone to her presence, she looked across at the grand clock by the receptionist's desk. She had an hour before the guard returned from seeing his favourite maid.

Ines had been scouting the library each night for weeks to learn the movements of the library. The castle constantly had passing guards. But luckily, the younger guards were stationed by the library, and no one knew one of the greatest secrets lay within.

It was the middle of the night, and even Ines walking on the expansive rug was loud in her ears as she crept across the floor, working her way to the furthest reaches of the room. She knew within the passage of the castle it harboured the book they were all looking for.

She had risked entering the library this morning. The receptionist was new, unwittingly revealing the location of the oldest texts. She had granted Ines something precious. That her hope wasn’t unfounded. And it was close by.

The walls were built of locally mined stone, and tapestries hung loosely. The further she ventured, the greater the smell of damp, of old pages thick with dust. The stones turned to rocks, almost dark in the shade, refracting what little light there was this deep in the tomb.

The candles were infrequent now, and she couldn’t be sure she heard noises, almost of pages turning. Or the slight exhale of someone’s breath.

Ines slowed, unsure if her mind was playing tricks on her. The closer she walked, the clearer the noises became, and as she turned to look around the corner of a shelf, she saw a shadowed figure.

They wore dark clothing, and a cape covered their face, trailing down to their calves. The figure turned. Ines concealed herself, but not before the shadowed figure caught sight of her from deep within her depthless hood.

On instinct, Ines reached for her knife. She was not fast enough. The chill of a cold blade sat against her neck, “turn around.”

The voice was low. As Ines looked over, she saw the shadowed face of a woman. Her hair was short and sharp against a rigid jaw. Her face was smeared with what looked like mud until Ines caught the smell of coal and realised that her hands were coated in oil.

“You are not a member of this court,” she said, her eyes bright with suspicion as she observed Ines.

“And you are not a member of the origin,” Ines replied.

Both figures in the library held their surprised stare as they realised both knew the origin. And both were here to open the realms.