She Chose the Wrong Hero

Elira

The northern fire wasn't a fire anymore.

By the time Elira and Aeren arrived, the flames were gone—but the air still smelled scorched, and the cobblestones hissed like they hadn't forgiven the heat yet.

It hadn't been a home that burned.

It had been a library.

A small one. Community-owned. Nestled between a blacksmith's hall and a tea house. Elira remembered walking past it as a student, always meaning to visit, always too busy.

Now its front wall was gone.

And something had carved a symbol into the earth just beyond the rubble.

A single curved line, split down the middle.

Not written by hand.

Melted into the stone.

The guard captain met them just beyond the perimeter.

He bowed stiffly, but Elira saw the tension in his eyes.

"No survivors inside," he said. "One woman made it out. She was the librarian. She's... not well."

"Magic?" Aeren asked.

The captain hesitated. "You should see for yourselves."

The librarian was sitting on a bench near the back alley. Her hair was singed at the ends. Her robes smelled of old ash. She rocked slightly, fingers twitching in the air like she was still turning pages that no longer existed.

Elira knelt in front of her.

"Ma'am," she said gently. "I'm here to help."

The woman didn't respond at first.

But then she looked up.

And her eyes—gods—her eyes weren't right.

The whites were too pale. Her pupils thin as slivers. Like someone had taken the color out of her soul.

"They sang to me," the woman whispered.

Elira leaned closer. "Who sang to you?"

The woman tilted her head. "Not who. It. The words behind the words. The ones beneath the pages."

She started humming.

Low and broken. A melody that made Elira's skin crawl.

"I tried to burn it," she said suddenly. "I had to. You don't understand. Books don't whisper. Not like that."

"What did they whisper?" Elira asked, heart sinking.

The woman's voice dropped to a hush.

"Virein wakes."

Then she fell silent again.

Eyes open. Staring. Gone.

Elira stood slowly.

Aeren had heard it too.

He said nothing. He didn't need to.

Because now they had proof.

This wasn't just a magical flare.

It was a call.

Inside the ruined building, everything smelled wrong.

The floor had collapsed in the center, revealing something below. Not a basement. Not a storage room.

Something carved.

A tunnel.

Aeren lit a mage flame and dropped it.

It didn't touch bottom.

Elira looked at him. "We need to go down there."

He gave her a look.

Half disbelief. Half understanding.

"You always say things like that when you know it's a terrible idea," he muttered.

She didn't smile.

The rope they used was old but held.

The tunnel was colder than it should've been. Not stone-cold. Not airless.

Just… wrong.

The walls were too smooth. The symbols etched into them too sharp. The entire descent felt like sliding into a throat that was never meant to swallow light.

And at the bottom—

A room.

Carved in a perfect circle.

Empty, except for one thing:

A pedestal of black stone.

And resting atop it: a book. Bound in crimson leather. Unmarked.

It wasn't burned.

It wasn't aged.

It looked… new.

Aeren moved first.

He reached for it—

Elira stopped him. Her voice low.

"Wait."

She stepped forward.

The air around the book rippled.

Not with heat.

With memory.

She could feel the timeline pulse again.

Not as one thread.

But two.

And this book didn't belong in either.

She didn't touch it.

But she looked at Aeren, and she whispered:

"This wasn't here before."

They brought it back under seal.

Locked it in the inner vaults of the academy's lowest archive.

Elira didn't sleep that night.

She sat in the hallway outside the warded door, back against the wall, knees pulled to her chest.

Aeren stayed nearby.

He didn't speak. Just watched her from across the room, arms folded, eyes tired.

At one point, just before dawn, he said:

"You're scared."

It wasn't an accusation.

Just a truth.

Elira stared at the door.

"Yes."

Another long silence.

Then, finally, he asked:

"Who is Virein?"

Elira closed her eyes.

"I don't know."

"But I think Kael does."