Friday, December 1, 2023

Scriptorium Secrets

Previous part.

Warm aromatic tea was slowly bringing me back to the world of the living, banishing the chilling remnants of the spiritual séance. Wilfred, the esoteric shop's owner with eyes gleaming with untold knowledge, leaned forward. “Were the spirits generous with their wisdom?” he asked.

I exhaled a forlorn breath as the shadows of confusion still clung to my thoughts. “They spoke in enigmas, leaving me adrift in a sea of riddles. All paths seem to intertwine with the elusive Luna Moth and a forgotten castle of my childhood lands, surrounded by rumors of a secret Brotherhood.”

Wilfred hummed. “Fascinating,” he murmured before addressing his companion, “What of you, Zelda? Does the Luna Moth ring a bell?” Lady Zelda could only offer a contemplative frown and a shake of her head. But then, as if struck by a silent bolt of inspiration, her eyes glimmered. “Perhaps the library shall unveil the obscured,” she suggested with a hint of intrigue.

“Is he prepared to commune with the library?” Wilfred pondered aloud in a voice filled with a blend of concern and curiosity.

“Only the library can decide, you know,” Zelda responded in a whisper.

Their discourse about the library, as if it pulsed with life, piqued my curiosity and twined it with unease. Was this sanctuary of books yet another enigmatic spirit I was to encounter?

“Our humble shop has a library, small in size but vast in the secrets it cradles,” Wilfred said. “It is very eager to offer help to those who seek wisdom and kind to those burdened by doubts.”

Their words, weaving the library as a sentient entity, left me tethered between doubt and yearning. The spiritual séance's echoes made me wary of another encounter with the unknown. Yet, as Wilfred guided me to my feet, and Zelda relieved me of my teacup, a current of destiny pulled me forward.

The door I was facing looked very common, promising nothing beyond the ordinary. But Wilfred's knowing smile and gentle nod spoke volumes. “The deepest of secrets are often hidden in plain sight, safeguarded by the veil of the mundane,” he whispered, as if imparting an ancient truth.

The room behind the door was anything but ordinary — a grand scriptorium carved from massive grey boulders. Gothic arches vaulted above, cradling the whispers of ages in their embrace. Each candle, a sentinel of flickering light, cast a soft glow upon endless rows of timeworn books. This was no mere cellar but a cathedral of knowledge, where every book page seemed to breathe with the pulse of hidden wisdom. The library, as alive as any spirit, awaited, ready to divulge its secrets to those brave enough to ask the right questions.

The hush of the library was broken only by the softest of murmurs, as if the books themselves were attempting to impart their ancient tales. I wandered through, feeling the weight of countless unseen gazes, sensing an anticipation that clung to the air, awaiting my next move. My fingers grazed the bindings in reverence, stopping at a volume clad in light green, its texture reminiscent of the delicate wings of the Luna Moth. The touch was a balm to my senses, compelling me to cradle the book in my hands and peer within.

To my astonishment, the pages before me were pristine, like a canvas devoid of ink, much like a travel journal awaiting the stories of the road. Disappointment tinged my spirit, yet as I moved to return the book to its brethren, a single card dropped to the ground like a fallen leaf. Bending to retrieve it, I found myself ensnared by the image it bore—a photograph of the Luna Moth Castle, silhouetted against a grandiose Full Moon, a sentinel over my long-abandoned hometown.

In that moment, clarity pierced the veils of mystery. The path of my fate demanded a pilgrimage to the place of my origins, to the very castle that now beckoned from the photograph. Resolute, I made for the exit where Wilfred and Zelda awaited.

“I perceive you've found a treasure,” Wilfred remarked, as he nodded towards the book I had unwittingly claimed.

A flush of apology warmed my cheeks. “Forgive me, I must return it to its place,” I started, but Wilfred's hand rose gently.

“No, let it accompany you. It seems it has chosen to be the vessel for the chronicles of your imminent odyssey,” he declared with a wisdom that bordered on the prophetic. The book, once empty, now promised to be filled with the narrative of my impending journey.

For this experience, I used the some items from the Bloodcroft Castle set by Death Row Designs.

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