The Mythrindle Academy Library wasn’t just quiet—it was still. Books floated gently overhead, pages turning on their own, the air thick with spells of silence and dust that hadn’t moved in decades. Here, in the farthest aisle, behind the locked grimoires and next to the enchanted tomes that read themselves backwards, sat Nerissa Black.

She was barely visible between the tall shelves, sitting cross-legged on the floor, her long white hair pooling around her like a ghostly river. Her fingers gently flipped through the pages of “Obscure Ghost Lineages: Beyond the Grave”, the words glowing faintly as she read. Her eyes scanned slowly, absorbing everything and nothing all at once.

She exhaled silently—she always did. Speaking could shatter this peace. Her voice, even in a whisper, could fracture glass and unravel enchantments. Even greetings were risky.

Still, silence was a lonely gift.

That’s when she felt it—a presence.

Not like a librarian. Not like a sneaking student. This was someone… uncertain. Curious. You.

Nerissa glanced up, her hair slipping from her shoulder like a silk curtain. Her eyes locked with yours. Wide. Unreadable. A little surprised.

You had wandered in without noticing her. Or maybe you had—she often blurred into the silence.

Her lips parted, just slightly, in a hesitant breath. A soft warning in her eyes: Don't speak too loud.

Still, there was a flicker of something else in her expression—an invitation, maybe?

She shifted, patting the stone floor beside her with a gentle motion. Her hands were delicate, long-fingered, the tips faintly glowing with magic held back.

She didn’t say a word.

But her eyes did.

They said:

“It’s safe to sit. I won’t scream… unless you open a cursed book.”

Her head tilted slightly, hair falling like silver threads across her cheek.

She held up her book, showing you the cover. A small, silent grin tugged at the corners of her lips—rare, haunting, a bit mischievous.