SOUL FORGE CHRONICLES
Chapter 16 — The Library of the Grey Tower
The Grey Tower Academy's library occupied the entire seventh floor of the Central Grey Tower.
The iron door was heavy and cold as Aldric pushed it open.
The space inside was enormous — far larger than the floor's exterior dimensions should have allowed. Shelves of dark wood stretched from floor to ceiling in every direction, filled with books of every size and color. Soft light from crystal orbs drifting between the rows cast a warm golden glow over everything.
Aldric stood in the doorway for a moment, taking it all in.
As a transmigrator, he had learned one thing from his very first day — information was the most valuable resource anyone could possess. Back in his old world, libraries held only books. Here, who knew what was stored between these shelves.
At the center of the room, behind a large desk of polished obsidian, sat the librarian.
An elderly woman in grey robes with a pointed hat. But her eyes, when they turned toward Aldric, were entirely white — no pupils, no irises. Just smooth, luminous white, like two small moons embedded in a human face.
Aldric didn't react. After a skeleton sorcerer and a Seven-Headed Devil Sheep, a white-eyed librarian felt entirely ordinary by comparison.
"A new student. State your purpose."
"I'd like to borrow books, ma'am. On spell inscription theory, basic alchemy, and academy regulations."
The white eyes held on him longer than was comfortable — as though reading something behind Aldric's face that others couldn't see.
"Polite. Unusual for a new student." She slid a thin card across the desk. "Register your name and room number. Three books per visit. Return them within fourteen days or the penalty comes out of your magic stone reserves."
Aldric registered and moved into the stacks.
He explored the collection methodically. Texts on elemental theory, dimensional geography, creature classification, spell engineering. There was an entire section dedicated to the properties of magic stones that immediately caught his interest — but that could wait.
What he needed right now were fundamentals. The inscription technique he had absorbed from his apprentice robe was incomplete — he needed solid theoretical groundwork to fill the gaps.
He found the first two books quickly.
The third one, he hadn't been looking for.
At the very end of a distant shelf, nearly hidden behind two thicker books, a worn and dusty cover sat as though it had been deliberately concealing itself. Aldric almost walked past it.
Almost.
He reached out and pulled it from the shelf.
"Forgotten Civilizations: Fragmentary Records of Races That Preceded the Sorcerers."
He opened the first page. The content was dense — elemental races, golem races, several whose names couldn't even be pronounced in modern human language. Aldric turned page after page, his eyes moving quickly.
Then an illustration made him stop.
An old drawing, scratched in ink that had faded to brown. It depicted a forge — not an ordinary one. Its shape was organic, almost alive, with flowing lines that suggested breathing rather than burning. Around it stood figures that didn't resemble humans, their arms stretched outward toward the forge.
Worshipping it.
Below the image, there was a single line of text in ancient sorcerer's script.
*"Those who carry the Soul Fire belong to the Forge, and the Forge belongs to them."*
Aldric read it once. Then again.
He didn't know why he couldn't turn the page.
He stood there for a moment longer than made sense, then quietly closed the book and tucked it into his bag alongside the other two.
...
Outside the library, the cool afternoon air greeted him as he stepped into the corridor.
Aldric walked at his usual pace. Nothing about his expression had changed. Nothing about his steps had changed.
But somewhere in the back of his mind, that line of text lingered.
He wasn't sure why.
"Hey."
Aldric looked up.
Griffon was standing at the intersection of two pathways, holding a wrapped piece of bread. His academy robe looked slightly too small for his broad frame — like someone far more accustomed to armor than ordinary clothing.
"Just came from the library?" Griffon asked.
"Yes." Aldric glanced at him. "You?"
"Just eating." Griffon nodded toward the bread. "The food here isn't as bad as I expected."
They fell into step beside each other. Aldric didn't rush the conversation. Someone like Griffon — quiet, always observing — tended to say more when given silence first.
"You adapt quickly," Aldric said eventually. "For someone who's never been to a sorcery academy before."
"So do you."
"I have my reasons."
"So do I."
Short answers. Not closed, but not open either. Aldric filed that away.
Glowing dandelions were beginning to bloom along the pathways as the sky darkened. Griffon looked at them for a moment — not with wonder, but with the quiet expression of someone confirming something they had already known.
"Where you come from," Aldric said, "what did they teach about the civilizations that came before the sorcerers?"
Griffon didn't answer immediately. He took a bite of his bread, chewed, then said in an easy tone, "Not much. Only that they existed, and now they don't."
"Doesn't that make you curious why?"
"Very." Griffon glanced at him. "Why are you asking?"
"I just read something in the library." Aldric gave a light shrug. "It seemed interesting."
Griffon said nothing more. But his eyes moved briefly toward the bag on Aldric's shoulder.
Just a glance. Brief enough that most people would have missed it.
They reached the intersection where the paths split toward the separate dormitory towers.
"See you tomorrow," Griffon said, and turned to go.
Aldric watched his back disappear before continuing on.
Inside his bag, the old book sat quietly between the other two.
...
"Aldric!"
Elara came jogging from the direction of the dormitory, holding several sheets of paper. "The class schedule! First classes start tomorrow morning — Advanced Meditation, Basic Spell Theory, and..." she paused, "Magical Creature Field Practice."
"Sounds enjoyable."
"Aldric! That means real magical creatures!"
"I killed a Seven-Headed Devil Sheep four days ago."
Elara went quiet, then let out a slow breath. "You have a point."
That night, after the lights went out, Aldric lay staring at the ceiling in the dark.
He thought about the inscription technique he needed to practice. About the alchemy basics he hadn't yet opened. About the class schedule starting tomorrow.
And somewhere between one thought and the next, without quite knowing why, the words drifted back to him.
*Those who carry the Soul Fire belong to the Forge, and the Forge belongs to them.*
He turned onto his side and closed his eyes.
Tomorrow there were classes.
— End of Chapter 16 —