When the book finally closed, it felt… final.
Not like slamming a door, but more like the wind stopping mid-howl. A hush that hummed in her bones.
Lucien stared at it, waiting, hoping it would speak again. But the glow faded. The symbols stilled. Whatever knowledge it shared was already slipping from her memory like sand through shaking fingers.
She whispered, "What did you just tell me?"
No answer.
Just silence.
She wrapped the book again and placed it back beneath the floorboards, pressing her palm to the crescent carving. "I guess I'm not ready yet."
And so, she returned to life as usual.
At least, for a while.
⸻
The day she met Jonas Rook was a strange one from the start.
Cloudy skies. Dead quiet. And not a bird in sight.
Lucien had just stepped out of the bakery, holding a loaf of bread still warm in her hands, when—
WHAM.
A body slammed into her from the alley, knocking the bread to the ground.
"Hey!" she snapped, stumbling back.
The boy who hit her was thin, scruffy, and looked like he hadn't slept in a week. His clothes were two sizes too big, and he reeked of stale beer.
"Sorry!" he said quickly. "Didn't see you. Gotta run—might've borrowed some wine."
Lucien squinted. "You're thirteen."
"Exactly," he said, panting. "Too young for jail. Old enough to appreciate fine flavors."
She blinked.
Then suddenly—her eyes went white.
Her breath caught.
Her hand, unbidden, rose and pressed gently to the boy's chest.
A pulse of light passed from her fingers to his heart, and for just a moment, something shifted.
A glimpse of something…
⸻
Shovels. Graves. Fire. Screaming. A name whispered in fear: The Gravedigger.
A boy kneeling at a tombstone, muttering a prayer.
A man—older, scarred—standing alone at the edge of a mass grave.
⸻
Then it vanished.
Lucien staggered.
Her eyes cleared. "What…?"
The boy tilted his head. "Uh… are you okay? Did I die? Am I cursed? Is this puberty?"
She stared at him, stunned.
"For a kid your age," she muttered, "you've got a hell of a future."
He grinned. "Do I become rich?"
She blinked again. "No. Worse."
Jonas gave a lazy shrug. "Ehh. Close enough."
And with that, he scooped up the fallen bread, dusted it off, and handed it back. "Here. Sorry for the tackle, ghost lady."
Then he was gone—back into the alley, like a memory that wasn't ready to be remembered.
Lucien stood in the street, staring after him.
That was the first time she met Jonas Rook.