Page 100 of The Unseelie Court

The tiny fae’s wings fluttered almost imperceptibly. “Theywerebooks. Once. Before they were forgotten so completely they lost even their form.”

What lined the endless shelves weren’t volumes or scrolls but amorphous objects that pulsed with contained information—crystalline structures that flickered with internal light, gelatinous masses that shifted and reformed continuously, devices that hummed with power.

“They’re kinda beautiful, actually.” Ava reached out toward one that resembled a galaxy suspended in glass.

“Don’t touch!” Bitty’s voice was sharp with panic. “Nothing here should be touched.”

Ava pulled her hand back. “Why? What would happen?”

“They hunger to be read again.” Bitty grimaced. “To be remembered. They’ll try to…imprint themselves into you.”

“Like a download?” Ava pictured information flooding into her brain.

“More like an infection.” The little fae shuddered. “Knowledge that wasn’t meant for your mind. Or, worse. They will ensure they are never known again. And you will forever forget. And be taken with them.”

Yeah. That was worse. Way worse.

“No touchy the sparkly. Got it.” Ava took a cautious step away from the shelves. The central aisle stretched before them, disappearing into shadow. The pull of the key was stronger now, drawing her forward. “This way.” She pointed.

They proceeded cautiously, keeping to the center of the aisle. On either side, the strange remnants of forgotten knowledge pulsed and shifted. Some seemed to turn toward them as they passed, like flowers tracking the sun.

“They know we’re here.” Bitty’s wings were flat against her back in fear.

“Can they do anything?”

“Not directly. Not unless we touch them.”

“Well, that makes them my favorite freaky terrible mind-eating monsters I’ve met all month.” But as they ventured deeper, Ava became aware of other movements—the shadow-creatures Bitty had called the Forgotten, drifting between shelves. They had no definite shape, just voids in the shape of people, negative spaces that bent the blue light around them. “Our other friends are back.”

“They watch everyone. They were scholars once. Or collectors. People who devoted their lives to knowledge, only to be forgotten themselves.” Bitty frowned, and was clearly trying not to look directly at them.

“What do they want?”

“The same thing everything here wants. Knowledge. Either more of it or less of it. Or to make sure some things—either themselves or something else—stays forgotten forever.”

Ava shivered. The Forgotten didn’t approach them, but she could feel their attention—a weight of ancient curiosity that pressed against her skin.

This place just straight-up gave her the freakingcreeps.

The pull of the key led them through the maze of shelves, down staircases that spiraled into depths that shouldn’t have been possible, across reading rooms where tables stood empty save for open “books” that still waited for readers who would never return.

The blue glow grew dimmer as they descended, forcing them to move more slowly to avoid collisions with the shelves. The shadow-readers seemed more numerous here, clustering in corners, hovering near particularly ancient-looking repositories.

And the pull—the resonance between Book, the tattoo on Ava’s arm, and whatever lay ahead—grew stronger with each step, almost painful in its intensity. “We’re getting close.”

Bitty looked increasingly nervous, her wings vibrating. “Ava…are you sure we should be doing this?”

“Nope. Probably super stupid,” Ava admitted. “But I don’t have a lot of other options.”

The tiny fae seemed about to say more, but then they rounded a corner and found themselves facing a set of massive doors. Unlike everything else in the weird building, these weren’t fragmentary or decayed. They stood complete, intact—twin slabs of what appeared to be solid obsidian, polished to a mirror shine and engraved with the same shifting symbols they’d seen outside.

The First Language, moving and shifting faster than she saw before.

“Oh, thiscan’tbe good,” Bitty whined. “We should go. We really, really should go.”

“I didn’t come here to burn calories.” The pull from beyond those doors was now so strong that Ava felt physically drawn toward them, her feet moving almost against her will. “The key is in there.”

But as they approached, something strange happened. The symbols on the door ceased their restless movement, freezing in place. The blue glow dimmed further, plunging the corridor into near-total darkness.

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