Page 56 of Fated to Monsters

Does he feel that distance, too?

“I want you to try something.” Willow turns toward me. “I want you to close your eyes, take a deep breath, and allow the angels to guide you.”

“The Angels?”

“I know it sounds silly, but just trust me, please.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” I say, not expecting an answer. I drop my arms to the side and shake my fingers, releasing the tension within me. Drawing in a lungful of air, I let it out slowly and pinch my eyes shut.

A quiet humming plays a backdrop to the steady thumping of my pulse.

I stand there and consider whether Willow has this all wrong. Has me all wrong.

Am I wasting her time when she clearly has more important things she needs to attend to?

It's selfish of me to demand her help, especially the more I learn how important she is to this world. I should give up, let her go, and stop bothering her and her mates with my woes.

“Do you feel that?” I ask her with my eyes still shut.

“Let it guide you,” she says softly like she understands this strange tugging in my core.

I take a cautious step forward, a sense of relief gently washing over me like a reassurance that I’m going in the right direction. Blindly, I walk foot by foot with my hands out in front of me. Turning down a corner, and then another, I must go for two whole minutes before I feel called to stop.

Blinking myself back to reality, I open my eyes to find a doorway in front of me.

"I believe this is Angel archives," Willow says while stepping into the room.

Why would I be drawn to this room? What information is waiting for me here?

Willow strolls the wall, her fingertip grazing the shelf as she goes by. "I think I studied here years ago when I first came to the academy." She pauses at a shelf, skims the spines, and then latches onto an old dusty book. "This one, yes." She blows on the front, exposing the faded letters, and cracks it open.

I examine the shelf opposite of where she’s standing, my gaze trailing the old tomes. Nothing sticks out any more than the last. They’re all interesting and my gut begs for me to scour them each, but not in a magical kind of way. More general curiosity than anything else.

That is, until I find my hand hovering along the spine of a larger text, my fingers itching to pick it up. I swallow harshly and give in to the craving, sliding the book carefully out of its home tucked among many others.

With great caution, I walk the thing over to a nearby table and set it on the surface.

“What did you find?” Willow shuts the book in her grasp, returns it to its spot on the shelf, and comes over beside me.

“I don’t know,” I tell her honestly. “I don’t see a title.”

“Hmm.” She wipes at the cover but doesn’t reveal anything other than the leather encasement. “Well.” Willow tilts her head toward me. “Ready to find out what’s inside?”

My jaw clenches and I grow increasingly unsteady. I’ve never both wanted and feared something so much in my life. What if this book holds information that will make things worse? What if it uncovers a truth that I’m not prepared to face? What if I really am the monster I believe myself to be, and Willow is there when I find out? What if she rejects me and I lose everything I’ve gained here in Arthlia?

I’ve already lost my home, what if even more loss is yet to come?

But before I can choose to succumb or overcome my fears, a figure appears in the doorway. Large, older, and masculine but with a sort of non-threatening aura.

“Headmaster Walker.” Willow immediately greets him, rushing around the table to wrap her arms around him.

“Willow.” He hugs her back and steadies his inquisitive attention on me.

“Walker.” She releases him. “I have someone I want you to meet.” Willow points toward me. “This is Wren Oliver. Wren, this is Headmaster Walker.”

I nod politely. What are the formalities in this world? Everyone sure does hug a lot, but that isn’t exactly how I’ve grown used to greeting strangers. Do I bow? Shake hands? Offer him something? I don’t want to offend him, but I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. I shall make a mental note to ask Sydney once I’ve departed this magical place.

“Oliver?” The headmaster rubs Willow’s shoulder before leaving her side. He glances down at the book in front of me. “Arcane Angelic text.”

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