Page 8 of Magical Moonbeam
I climbed.
The landing opened into a small alcove. Dust motes drifted in the air like lazy orbs, and only one small window cast light across the room.
In the center, a lone table stood beneath a low-hanging chandelier, its crystals glittering faintly with trapped starlight. Itwasn’t unlike the other library loft I’d met staff in, but this one felt more…regal.
And on the table lay one book.
It didn’t glow or hum, but it called to me.
I stepped forward and laid a hand on the worn leather cover. The texture was smooth in places, rough in others. This was a book well-loved, or, at the very least, well-used.
The title etched into the spine read,Lunarisum: Magic of the Moonbeam.
I let out a breath and felt a sudden surge of adrenaline.
This was it.
This was where I’d start to focus on the next steps.
As I opened the book, the runes shifted slightly under my fingers, rearranging themselves like they were waking from a decade-long slumber. The first page was blank, but then ink bloomed across it.
The Moonbeam was more than a magical alignment.
It was abridge.
A moment where all things magical could touch, merge, and if needed… heal.
And suddenly, I knew that I was on the right path.
The circle wasn’t broken; it was merely bent.
I remembered those words as if I saw them yesterday.
Below, I could hear faint laughter from a few students, a clatter of books being set on a table, and the rustle of students moving through the shelves.
The Academy was alive and ready to defend itself. Curses were meant to be broken.
And I was exactly where I needed to be.
The light in the alcove changed as I turned the page. Clouds moved over the sun, producing a softening of silvery light through the single arched window, spilling across the table.
The bookLunarisum: Magic of the Moonbeampulsed faintly beneath my fingers. Its old pages were feather-light, yet rich with the scent of ancient magic and knowledge.
More inked sketches appeared, featuring things like phases of the moon, ancient Ward circles, and tangled knotwork that resembled constellations when I looked too long.
But it was the next section that stole my breath.
When the Moonbeam crosses the Veil, the threads between realms quiver. Some will fray, and some will strengthen. Those attuned to the Wards may sense the thinning long before it begins. It is not a breaking, but a brushing of one world against another. Of time folding in on itself. Of echoes waking from long sleep. Step into the sparkling rays and ensure you know where you want to go or how you plan to arrive, or you just might find yourself where you never meant to be.”
I whispered the words aloud again. The sound filled the tiny chamber like a forgotten hymn.
The Moonbeam wasn’t just about celestial alignment.
It was athresholdand an invitation that held great risk.
And yet… a chance.
Beneath that passage, written in a hand different from the rest, more hurried, more jagged, was a scribbled note:
