She who sees

The library smelled faintly of dust and paper, the kind of scent that clung to the air like an echo of time itself. Aisha sat hunched over a long oak table, her notes spread in front of her like fragments of a puzzle she didn't yet know how to solve. The winter light outside was thin and grey, slipping through tall, frosted windows, painting everything in muted shades.
Her history project was supposed to be simple— a straightforward presentation about Lord Sadon and his legacy in the town. But nothing about this felt simple anymore. Every page she turned carried her further into shadows, deeper into secrets, as though the books themselves were leading her somewhere she wasn't sure she wanted to go.

The words blurred as she reread them: "The land remembers what it has buried. Old blood binds the soil. The Watchers rise when the veil weakens."

Her stomach tightened. These weren't just old legends or forgotten superstitions. They were warnings. And woven through them were symbols she recognized. Spirals. Circles. Lines intersecting like pathways. They matched the sketches she'd been drawing in her notebooks, sketches she hadn't been able to explain. Seeing them here, carved into old records and illuminated margins of town archives, made her skin prickle.

The pendant at her throat pulsed faintly, as if in agreement.

Aisha's pencil hovered above her notes, then scribbled furiously. Sigils — shield, beacon — repeated in Sadon's time. Markings appear in connection with 'veil' and 'land waking.' Possible prophecy?

She chewed her lip, glancing around. The library was quiet, nearly empty except for the occasional cough of the librarian behind the desk and the soft thud of books being reshelved in the far aisles. It was the kind of silence that felt alive, stretched thin and waiting.
She flipped to another page — a fragile diaryentry from a villager who had lived during Lord Sadon's reign. The handwriting was cramped and urgent, as though written in fear.

"Sadon seeks the pendant, for it is said to hold the key. He calls it a beacon, though others name it a curse. They whisper that the one who carries it will draw both salvation and ruin."

Aisha's chest tightened. The words might as well have been written to her. Salvation and ruin. Shield and beacon. She could almost hear the fortune teller's voice echoing through her memory.
Her hand trembled slightly as she touched the pendant, its warmth grounding her.
Another text, brittle with age, described the Watcher Spirits — guardians bound to the land, neither living nor dead. They appeared when the veil thinned, their forms often mistaken for wandering souls. Some guided. Some warned. Others deceived.
Ruby's face flickered in her mind. That stillness in the hallway. The way her eyes had glimmered with something not entirely human. Aisha forced herself to breath evenly, pushing the thought aside. She couldn't let herself believe Ruby was anything but her friend. And yet...
"Find anything useful?"
Nathan's voice broke the silence, and Aisha jumped, her pencil nearly skidding across the page. He leaned casually against the end of the table, his hair slightly damp from the snow outside, his smile crooked. But there was tension in his eyes, as though he already knew this wasn't just schoolwork.
"Maybe," she muttered, sliding her notebook slightly away from his line of sight. "Mostly just old stories."

"Old stories don't usually make you look like you've seen a ghost," he said softly, pulling out a chair across from her. His gaze dropped briefly to the pendant. She tucked it quickly under her sweater.
Her throat was dry, but she forced a shrug. "It's just...complicated."
Nathan didn't push, but he didn't look away either. The unspoken weight of his concern lingered between them, making her both grateful and uneasy.
She turned back to the book in front of her. Another section described Lord Sadon's obsession with the path beneath the trees. He believed the land itself hid a doorway, something that opened only when the right signs aligned. The villagers had written of strange lights in the woods, figures appearing at dusk, and the earth trembling as though alive.

Her pulse quickened The path will open. That was what her mother had said to Doreen in the mirror. It wasn't just a dream. It was real.
The symbols on the page blurred as her vision swam with sudden clarity. The figures she'd been seeing. The pendant's pull. Ruby's warnings. The fortune teller's prophecy. It was all part of the sane thread. And it was winding tighter around her with every passing day.
She gripped her pencil harder, forcing herself to steady her breath. She was meant to make a choice. That much was clear. But what choice?
The words of the diary stared back at her: "The one who carries it will draw both salvation and ruin."

Her hands felt cold despite the library's warmth.

Nathan shifted in his chair, his expression careful. "Whatever this is, Aisha...you don't have to do it alone."
She wanted to believe him. She wanted to tell him everything— about the dreams, the figures, Ruby, her mother. But something inside her hesitated, a quiet voice whispering that the more he knew, the more danger he'd be in.
Instead, she closed the diary gently and stacked her notes, forcing a small smile. "We should probably start putting this together for class."

Nathan studied her for a moment longer, then nodded. But she knew he wasn't convinced.

As she gathered her papers, she felt the pendant pulse once more, stronger this time, as though it were trying to imprint the symbols and words into her very skin.

Salvation. Ruin. Shield. Beacon.

The past wasn't history at all. It was waiting. And she was walking straight into it.