Chapter 125: flipped
The scent of ink and aging parchment filled the air like a slow, familiar fog, wrapping around Lor as he wandered the aisles of the town’s library with quiet purpose.
His hazel eyes darted over the spines of heavy tomes, fingers trailing along dusty edges, the midnight-dark oak shelves looming tall around him, carved with intricate runes that whispered of centuries past.
The stack under his arm was heavy—Witchfire and Forbidden Flame, The Lost Sisterhood: A History of Banished Magicks, The Lustroot Lineage: Witchblood Through the Veins—titles about witches, their bloodlines, forbidden rituals, ancient betrayals.
He wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for.
Truth? Reassurance? Warnings? His mind churned with questions about Kiara, her glowing eyes, her witch blood, and the bond that tethered them.
He turned toward one of the side alcoves, candlelit and quiet, the flickering light casting long shadows across the stone floor—and paused.
At the far end, crammed behind a leaning pile of books, sat a familiar mop of blonde hair done up in twin tails, glinting like spun gold in the candlelight.
A petite frame leaned forward, nose buried in a page, lips moving silently as she read, her blue eyes sharp with focus.
Sophia.
She’d tormented him for months—snide remarks, mock applause, the occasional exaggerated sigh whenever he answered a question wrong.
She had a talent for cutting people down with a single glance or a muttered insult, and Lor had been one of her favorite targets.
She rarely missed a chance to call him a loser or a dimwit, whether she was breezing past him in the corridor or he’d somehow ended up in the spotlight during class.