"The headmaster was patrolling the east wing," Leo hissed, his voice trembling. "If we get caught, Elena, it’s not just detention. It’s expulsion. Or worse."

They moved in silence, a pair of ghosts weaving through the towering shelves. Everything they did was a escondidas —in hiding. Their friendship, their research, the way Elena would sometimes catch his hand in the dark when the shadows grew too long.

The room beyond was small, filled with a thick, unnatural fog. In the center, resting on a pedestal of obsidian, was the book. It wasn't large, but it pulsed with a faint, rhythmic violet light, like a heartbeat.

Elena stepped closer, her shoulder brushing his. The bravado in her eyes flickered for a second, replaced by something raw and hungry. "They’ve been lying to us, Leo. About the magic, about where it comes from. Don't you want to know the truth? Even if it's hidden?"

She held up a heavy, rusted key—the one she’d swiped from the caretaker’s belt while he was distracted by a well-placed illusion. They were here for the Liber Umbrarum , a book that supposedly didn't exist, containing secrets the Academy had spent centuries trying to bury.

He looked at her, then at the book. The world outside this room—the lectures, the strict schedules, the expectations—felt like a pale imitation of life. Here, in the dark, with her, everything was electric.