The wind peppered her bare shoulders and Emerson shivered. Her vision was still swimming from the downward journey into Foundation and her gown was soaked through from the Forbidden Wing’s downpour. She wasn’t sure exactly what she had expected upon opening the hardback, but it certainly was not a barren field in a bleak world whose primary colors appeared to be various shades of gray. The silence echoed in her ears as it dawned on her that she was utterly alone in this deathly landscape. White flakes drifted down from the dark clouds overhead. She sucked in sharply as they landed. Bursts of pain exploded across her skin and she inspected her arms in confusion. Red splotches appeared where the flakes landed. The burns splintered like bloody lightning across a pale sky before vanishing into nothing.
Not snow. Ash.
Burning ashes were falling from the sky.
She had to find shelter. The clouds overhead were only growing darker and the burns were spreading across her skin. Panic rose in her chest as she scanned her surroundings and realized there was no cover from the deluge. A forest loomed several hundred meters behind her but the trees were barren and wouldn’t provide much shelter from a storm. The exhilaration of finally entering one of the banned books began to wane as the feeling of fear rose to take its place. But then she saw it. There, in the distance, her eyes landed on what appeared to be a city. Black stone walls sprouted from the earth and dark spires jutted into the sky. If she squinted, she could make out flickering lights, the only sign of life in this otherwise dead world into which she had plunged. The air of gloom this city oozed made her hesitate to ride out the storm within its walls. Nevertheless, the prospect of finding shelter drew her toward the ominous shadow it cast across the horizon.
“Goddammit,” she muttered, swiping at her arms to brush away the ashes.
They smeared across her skin and darkened into lesions. Emerson made a mental note not to touch anywhere the ashes landed. Aside from standing here while the sky slowly incinerated her, there were only two options available. She hoisted her gown up to her thighs and took off toward the black speck on the horizon where she hoped a city could protect her from the elements.
Her arms were blistered and raw by the time she reached the gates safeguarding the city. The razor-sharp rooftops towered above her, but she was too cautious to look toward the sky for more than seconds at a time. The ash fell more quickly now and it wouldn’t be long before her entire body was covered in wounds. She raised a hand to bang the copper doorknocker against the charred black wood but the gates creaked open before she could grasp the metal. At the unexpected movement, Emerson jerked her hand away and took a wary step backward.
“That’s odd,” she whispered.
There was no more time for hesitation though. It was either take her chances inside the walls or walk back to the open field she had just escaped. She squeezed between the doors before they shut her out in the cascades of burning ash. Once inside, she collapsed against the gates after they swung shut and caught her breath before turning her attention toward the street that stretched out in front of her. Dark figures prowled over the cobblestones, sheltered from the toxic sky by thick coats and umbrellas. Emerson crept forward, clinging to the outer edges of the road where the building overhangs prevented the ash from reaching her. Although she had not foreseen ending the night in a world where the clouds rained ashes, she quickly came to regret her choice in attire. Everyone in this world seemed to be clad entirely in black, whereas she stood out like a red beacon in the darkness. Nevertheless, her scarlet gown soon became the least of her worries.
Something about this world was…off.
Strangers glanced her way from under their umbrellas with red eyes. Pedestrians smirked at her with pitiless, twisted grins that were just a little too wide and she could have sworn she spotted a forked tongue flitting out from a tall gentleman who tipped his hat at her. Someone hissed at her from behind and she flinched. The was definitely something was wrong with the inhabitants of this realm. Everything appeared ordinary at first glance, but if she looked at anything too closely it began to transform into a hideous caricature of what she had initially perceived it to be.
Without warning, a hand shot out from an alleyway on her right and dragged her away from the main thoroughfare into a narrow side street. Another hand covered her mouth to muffle the scream that itched to rip itself from her lips. Her assailant’s breath tickled her neck and she cowered against the stone wall, preparing for the worst.
“Hello, Emmie,” a voice whispered in her ear.
Her eyes flew open. The hand withdrew.
“Silas?” she gasped.
Silas Rathbone retreated to the opposite wall of the alley. He grinned mischievously at her and ran his fingers through his hair.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Silas?”
In response, he cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms, leaning back against the alley wall. Irritation bubbled up inside her and she started toward him.
“Careful,” he warned, pointing up at the sky.
With an exasperated growl, she shrank back under the cover of the buildings.
“I’m surprised to see you here, Emmie.”
“For the love of God, stop calling me that,” she snarled.
Silas’s grin widened, which only served to further enrage her.
“Why are you surprised to see me?” she asked.
“To be honest, I didn’t think you had it in you,” he replied. A flash of uncertainty danced across his face and he added, “Plus you seemed pretty dead set on sticking with The Central Library the last time I saw you.”
“And how does it feel to be wrong?” Emerson shot back.
“Oh, it feels great,” he answered, recovering his cocky demeanor. “I was beginning to suspect you were lost to the clutches of the Head Librarian and her lapdog of a son, Aiden Moon.”
“Adrien,” she corrected him.
“Does it matter? I don’t see him here. But I do see you. How does it feel?”
He lobbed the question back at her but, between the two of them, Emerson refused to be the first breach the topic of emotions. Instead, she opted for taunting him and jutted her chin out defiantly.
“How does what feel?”
He prowled closer, disregarding the poison drifting to the ground around him.
“The freedom,” he responded. “Can you feel it?”
As much as she wanted to deny it, she could feel it. Her skin was electric even without the pain of the ashes from the field bordering this city. For the first time as far back as she could remember, she felt as though she were forging her own path forward rather than having it dictated to her by others. However, Emerson refused to admit any of that to him and did her best to paint a bored look across her face.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she deadpanned.
“Liar,” he whispered.
Silas rested his hand on the wall behind her. He was close enough that she could feel his breath on her lips.
“I think you feel more alive than you’ve felt in years,” he told her. “The Central Library was holding you back. You’re about to discover what true power looks like.”
“You are so dramatic.” She pushed him back with one stern finger pressed into his chest. “Are you ever going to rescue me from this ridiculous storm?”
Silas rolled his eyes and stepped back. He took off his coat and offered it to her.
“Although it would have been nice of you to give us a heads up, I’m sure your mother will be thrilled to see you,” he said.
Emerson stilled as the implications of his offhanded comment hit her like a train. She had opened Foundation to find Iris Blackwell and uncover the answers hidden from her by The Central Library. Of course, that did not negate the emotions that swept in upon realizing she was only minutes away from making it a reality.
“My mom is here?”
Silas raised his eyebrows at her.
“Come with me,” he answered, grabbing her hand.
Without waiting for permission, he intertwined his fingers with hers and led her back to the main road. She wrinkled her nose at him in distaste but his only response was to wink at her and grip her hand more tightly as he tugged her forward. Emerson clenched his coat close to her chest to take advantage of any shelter it could offer her from the venomous sky in this realm.
“Why isn’t this affecting you?” she asked, glancing pointedly at the clouds hovering above them.
Silas shrugged.
“You’re a newcomer here,” he responded. “With all the wrong kinds of magic.”
Her instant reaction was to ensure the gold tattoos on her chest were completely covered. Perhaps they made her allergic to this realm’s atmosphere. A pair of red eyes caught her attention and a scarecrow of a man lunged at her. His tongue shot out of his mouth and saliva dripped from his lips. Emerson shrieked and clutched at Silas, who wrapped an arm around her waist to drag her away from the man.
“Calm down,” he murmured in her ear.
“Calm down?” she hissed. “There is clearly something wrong with this place. Do you not see the people here?”
Red eyes glared at her from underneath hoods and from the shadows of the buildings on either side of the road. An elderly woman bared her teeth at Emerson. A pregnant woman dragged a claw-like nail down her own stomach and licked the blood from her finger, all the while looking intently into her eyes. Every stranger who passed by grinned at her, their smiles stretching just wide enough that she began to fear for her own sanity. She had to be imagining things.
“What are you seeing?” Silas asked.
She opened her mouth and closed it. There was no way to describe the behavior that the passersby were exhibiting. Was this what she left The Central Library for? Emerson was already second guessing her decision at the gruesome sight of this world’s inhabitants. She slowed to a stop, her palms slick with sweat. It was now or never if she was going to leave. If Silas’s grip slipped just a little, she could break free, make a run for it, go back to where Adrien was likely waiting for—
“Look at me.”
He gripped her jaw and forced her to meet his eyes.
“You are going to be fine,” he told her. “Breathe. Everyone sees something different here the first time they step inside Foundation. The people who live in this world mirror your fears. When I walked down the street after arriving, I was invisible. I couldn’t get anyone to look at me if I tried. Whatever is in the pits of your soul, you’ll see it reflected back at you by the citizens of this realm.”
“What is your fear?” Emerson asked.
Silas released her jaw and continued walking. He kept to the outskirts of the road to shield her as much as possible from the toxic ash. They moved forward in silence and she had given up on receiving a response by the time they stopped in front of another black door. She found herself peering into a gargoyle’s black marble eyes. It creaked to life and licked its lips before speaking.
“Entrance to Foundation requires a sacrifice,” it croaked.
Emerson blinked. Those were the exact words the gargoyle outside of the Forbidden Wing had used. Slowly, she offered up her hand. In response, this creature looked her up and down.
“I know who you are, Emerson Blackwell,” it drawled. “Foundation has been waiting for you. No sacrifice is required.”
The gargoyle’s gaze landed on Silas, who sighed in resignation.
“We go through this every time, Dragnarok,” he complained. “I’ve been a member of Foundation for nearly a year.”
The gargoyle grinned.
“I don’t like you.”
With a sigh, he offered his hand to the creature, who dragged a fang down his palm and licked its lips slowly.
“Satisfied?” he grumbled.
The gargoyle did not respond, but the door swung open before them. Silas turned to Emerson.
“Before we go in, what’s your fear?”
Her heart thundered in her chest when her eyes adjusted to the dark interior that spread out before them. Suddenly, she was thankful that Silas had not released her hand. Back in the Forbidden Wing, this had seemed like the obvious move. Now, after seeing firsthand the horrors inside this book and staring into the shadowy interior of what could only be Foundation’s headquarters, Emerson again fought the urge to turn and flee. With a squeeze of his hand, she returned to the present.
“You first,” she countered.
“Insignificance. Leading a life that’s easily forgotten,” he answered without hesitation. “Now shoot.”
Before she replied, she took a deep breath to steady herself.
“I’m afraid of what I will become here.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his forehead knit together in confusion but she disentangled her fingers from his and stepped across the threshold. Her feet landed on black marble floors and the door swung closed behind them. Although she would never admit it, Silas’s presence at her back comforted her somewhat as she took in their surroundings.
Candlelight reflected off the floors from copper candelabra interspersed along the perimeter of the foyer. Black doors lined the lower-level walls, each with a dozing gargoyle situated at eye level. Open balconies populated the second level with more black doors lining the walls. At the end of the room, a sweeping staircase led up to two doors that stretched from floor to ceiling.
“The entrance to Foundation’s Council Room,” Silas answered her unasked question. His eyes followed her gaze to the menacing doors at the peak of the staircase. “Iris and the Council are meeting now. I’ll take you to one of the guest bedchambers so you can change out of…that…before you see her.”
At the mention of seeing her mother, Emerson’s heart nearly stopped dead in her chest. This moment had been months in the making after she and Iris laid eyes on each other inside The Central Library for the first time in eight years. Doubt crept in that she would not measure up to whatever vision Iris had in mind for her daughter. On the other hand, would her mother live up to the legend she was painted as by The Central Library? Emerson peered down at her dress. It was in tatters after her mad dash to the city. It wasn’t as though the situation required any sort of formality, but her ragged appearance did not seem appropriate for the gravity of the situation.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Silas chuckled. “I love it. There’s almost nothing left of it. But I doubt that’s the first impression you want to make as Foundation’s heir.”
“Shut up,” she snapped.
He closed his mouth obediently and guided her to one of the doors lining the foyer with a hand at the small of her back. Her heart dropped when his hand drifted an inch lower, but she listened to her better judgment and brushed him away. Out of the corner of her eye, Emerson saw his shoulders slump slightly. Hers involuntarily did the same, but she cleared her throat and squared them stubbornly, scolding herself at the effect he had on her.
“You’ll have to open the door yourself this time. The gargoyles remember the taste of your blood. This way, you are the only one with permission to enter the rooms inside,” Silas informed her as the creature on the door shivered to life. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and finished, “Security purposes, obviously.”
Hesitantly, she offered her hand up to the gargoyle and it gently pricked her palm before huffing its approval. The door swung open. She stepped inside and turned back to face Silas, who remained at the threshold. Part of her had been expecting him to follow her through.
“Like I said, you are the only person with permission to enter. There isn’t a single soul in this realm or the next who can step foot inside this room.” His eyes drifted down to her lips. “Until you change your mind.”
Suddenly, Emerson was glad for the invisible protection between them. She crossed her arms and scowled at him, which only served to widen the smirk spreading across his face.
“I’ll send word to your mom that you’re here,” he laughed. “And find you something more appropriate to change into.”
The door swung shut in his face, leaving her alone in the dimly lit chambers.
The dark academic theme matched the entrance hall outside. Scorched mahogany floors shone under candlelight radiating from the sconces that hung from walls. As expected, books littered the furniture and lined the far wall of the room. Part of her wondered why she was so unnerved by the red lettering that glittered on the spines. The feeling remained no matter how hard she tried to banish it and her skin tingled with fearful anticipation of what she would discover in this realm.
She wondered whether she would regret stepping foot into Foundation. After teetering on the edge of this decision for weeks, the finality of her choice sat heavily on her shoulders. There was no going back now. She shook her head in an attempt to dispel those thoughts before padding into the bathroom where she was relieved to discover a spacious clawfoot bathtub filled with steaming water. Rotting red roses dangled from glass vases on the bathroom vanity. Emerson braced her hands against the counter and stared at her reflection.
Dark circles under her eyes greeted her. Beneath the dim light, her cheekbones appeared hollow and her expression haunted. She turned away from her reflection, slithering out of her dress and slipping into the welcoming bath with a sigh. Submerged under the water, her last interaction with Magnus Bane floated through her mind. Emerson thought back to their conversation in the bowels of Foundation’s Library.
Have you grown tired of choking on The Central Library’s lies?
You have yet to prove you deserve to stand in the same room as your mother.
Your beloved mentor is a fraud Miss Blackwell and you are a fool.
What must her mother think of her? He had been right. She spent the last several months cavorting around different realms with Atalanthya Moon’s son and discovering her own family’s history through the warped viewpoint of her mother’s worst enemy. It made sense that Iris would be angry with her. A small voice in the back of her mind retorted that her mother had also abandoned her when she needed guidance the most. Maybe it served Iris right that her daughter had to discover this world on her own.
Then there was the matter of Silas. She squeezed her eyes shut under the water, not wanting to think about whatever was going on between them. The last time she had seen him, he stormed out of her apartment without a backward glance. Now, however, he seemed to be pretending their confrontation never happened. His newfound ability to disguise his true feelings beneath flirtatious taunting and biting bravado was jarring.
Emerson emerged from the water as a searing pain ripped across her chest.
“What the—”
An invisible dagger was tracing its way along her breastbone and leaving deep red patterns in its wake. She watched in horror as the designs connected to form the shape of an anatomically accurate human heart intertwined with the first tattoo she had received in The Central Library. For a moment, she could have sworn it was beating to the same rhythm as the heart thundering in her chest. The tattoos she obtained while traveling within The Central Library’s Catalogue had appeared with little more than a whisper so she wasn’t prepared for the level of pain that would come with the tattoos from Foundation’s Catalogue. It cleaved its way across her skin, branding her with the dark red marks she had been terrified of only weeks ago. Even though she tried to banish worries of what this mark’s effects would be, this was the first physical representation of her journey down the path into Foundation and away from The Central Library. The blood red tattoo thumped in tandem with the physical heart in her chest. Would she be able to retrace her steps? And what would happen to her if there was no way back?
A quiet knock interrupted her racing thoughts. Water trailed over the floor in her wake as she headed for the door. A box waited on the ground outside. Otherwise, the foyer was empty. Back inside her room, she opened the box to find the clothes Silas had promised. The reality of seeing her mother flooded back and Emerson yanked on the clothes before pinning her damp hair back in a clip. The corner of her mouth tugged upward when she paused to examine her reflection. The entire ensemble was black. Black boots, black jeans, and a black leather jacket she tugged on over her shirt. Much better than the gaudy red dress she had arrived in.
She raced out of her room only to stumble upon Silas leaning against a stone pillar.
“Have you been waiting out here the whole time?” she asked.
He examined the new look with approval but his grin halted when he saw the expression on her face. Rather than answer her question, he said, “You look like you’re headed to a public execution. What’s wrong Emmie?”
Her eyes drifted toward the large black doors waiting at the end of the hall. It was irrational, but somehow she knew her mother was waiting for her on the other side. The anticipation of finally seeing Iris again ran through her. Emerson tried to block out her doubts but they swept in nonetheless, especially when Magnus’s venomous accusations drifted through her mind again.
“Does she hate me?”
“Who?” He furrowed his brow. “Your mom?”
“Magnus said—”
“Magnus is a dark ages psychopath who takes every opportunity to make the people around him as miserable as he is,” Silas interrupted her.
Emerson didn’t say anything. She shoved her hands into her pockets to conceal their trembling.
“Your mom doesn’t hate you,” he told her, tucking a flyaway hair behind her ear. “She hasn’t been this excited since the day she found you in The Central Library.”
“If you say so,” Emerson hedged.
“I do. Now, any more silly questions before we go?” he asked.
“Do they have public executions here?” She felt the color returning to her cheeks as the heart tattooed on her skin as well the one in her chest quieted.
Silas threw her a dark look and then chuckled to himself.
“Just follow me.”
“Didn’t answer my question,” she muttered.
Their footsteps echoed over the marble floors as she followed him down the length of the hall. They halted in front of the enormous doors, where the gargoyles wordlessly looked them over before the doors swung inward to reveal the chambers on the other side.
Five pairs of eyes stared at her. Nearly half of Foundation’s Council was gathered inside the room, each member seated in a lush wine-red armchair. She gulped as her gaze found a pair of piercing blue eyes across the room.
Iris Blackwell smiled.
“Welcome home, Emerson.”