The Witch's Apprentice: Chapter 23

An Unexpected Encounter

Hello and welcome back to The Witch’s Apprentice. if you’re new here, I recommend starting from chapter 1. Otherwise, welcome back!

In the last chapter, Radley entered The Stygian Library to find a powerful spellbook. A friendly halfling merchant had promised to help him get home if he brought back the book. Now, as the story continues, Radley steps out of a chapel, frustrated. He had tried to read an old book, but the letters wouldn’t stay still long enough for him to understand it.

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Chapter 23: An Unexpected Encounter

Radley continued deeper into the library, passing seemingly endless rows of shelves filled with books. The smell of parchment and old wood hung in the air like an invisible cloud, and with each step, small puffs of dust swirled up from the weathered floorboards.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, but it must have been hours. His feet were sore, and he was starving, but he couldn’t stop now. He had to find the halfling's book if he wanted to get back home. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t even sure he’d recognize it. What if he found the book but passed right by it because he didn't understand what he was looking for?

Enough. Self-pity won’t help you, so just keep moving. But he was hungry, and his feet were sore. Just one more door. If it’s not there, you can find a place to rest and eat. At least he still had the apple from the merchant in his pocket.

Ignoring his empty stomach, he reached for the doorknob and pushed. The room was larger than he had expected. A planetarium. Along the walls, lamps were mounted so they cast spots of light onto the vaulted ceilings, forming constellations. But it wasn’t the night sky he knew.

In the middle of the room stood an enormous clockwork orrery. Suspended at its center, a glowing lamp represented the sun, and around it, curved metal arms held a jumble of planets, moons, and comets. It all moved in an intricate dance, accompanied by a continuous clicking from the many cogs of the enormous apparatus.

Bookshelves brimming with colorful spines and golden runes lined the walls. Holding his breath, he traced a fingertip along their edges, skimming title after title on astrology and astronomy. It was incredible. He’d always been drawn to astrology, to the ability to predict the future through science.

Master Gallagher had taught him about scrying, about reading the position of the planets in the sky and how they shaped destiny. It was like unrolling time like a carpet and studying how everything was woven together by tiny little threads. He was far from an expert, but he understood enough to know that if he could decipher the movement of these unknown planets, he might be able to cast a horoscope for himself.

The planetarium seemed like a good place to set up camp. Checking the perimeter for any sign of life, he ran a finger along a shelf, leaving a clear line in the dust. The books hadn’t been touched in a long time, and it was quiet in here. There were no signs of other visitors, no sound other than the soft ticking of the clockwork. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen any visitors since entering the Stygian Library. Hopefully, that was a good sign.

Feeling sure he was safe here, he unfastened his cloak and spread it on the ground at the base of the orrery. The floor was cold, but he had slept in worse places since this all started. With a sigh, he pulled the apple from his pocket and studied its waxy surface.

I wonder how Master Gallagher is doing back at the tower, he thought. He was going to be furious when Radley got home, but somehow, he almost looked forward to it. With another sigh, he took a bite of the apple, then another. It was the sweetest apple he had ever tasted.

When he finished, he dusted off his hands and turned to the shelves. If he was stuck here for now, he might as well learn something useful.

The books were dense, filled with complex charts and old theories on the movement of the stars. Some described planets he had never heard of, strange, distant worlds with moons that vanished for centuries and stars that burned cold instead of hot. Others spoke of alignments that could open doorways and how the celestial forces shaped magic itself.

The pages of the books swam with constellations and runes. Some refused to stay still long enough for him to decipher, while others resembled the symbols he had studied at home. It was all very confusing and incredibly fascinating, and before long, his head was buzzing with the familiar energy of almost, but not quite, understanding the essence of magic.

But then he found it. A way to remove his curse. If he could decipher the movements of the planets and reset the clock to before he had first touched the book in Master Gallagher's tower, he could undo everything that had happened. Wake up at home, in the tower, as if it had just been a bad dream.

With a tightness in his chest, he stepped up to the orrery and raised his hands. The gears resisted, but with a deep metallic groan, they slowly began to turn in the opposite direction. A series of clicks echoed through the chamber as the room seemed to hum to life, the stars above flickering while the constellations shifted into a new pattern. The lamp at the center of the orrery pulsed, casting long, dancing shadows against the shelves.

He could hardly believe it. He had found a way home. With clammy hands, he reached for the next step, but a wet, scraping sound cut through his thoughts.

Without letting go of the orrery, he turned toward the noise. It came from behind one of the bookcases. Something was moving. Something big.

Then, with a crack of splitting wood, a pale, bloated shape wriggled into view. It was a bookworm, and it was gigantic.

The worm's fleshy, pale body left a trail of slime as it slithered across the floor. It was divided into joints the size of a man's torso, and the fat from countless pustules glistened faintly in the light. Its piercing black eyes focused on Radley, while six rows of teeth quivered as if tasting the air.

Radley glanced over his shoulder, cautiously taking a step back. Then, the bookworm lunged. It was faster than he’d expected, a blur of scales and snapping mandibles, and he barely managed to throw himself to the side as it barreled past. Behind it, the floor gave way with a deep, splintering crack, revealing a dark network of tunnels beneath the heavy stones. He didn’t wait to see what else was stirring down there. He turned and ran.

The twisting corridors blurred around him as he sprinted through the maze of bookshelves, his breath ragged, his heart hammering against his ribs. He took sharp turns at random, weaving between towering stacks of ancient tomes. Behind him, the wet, slithering scrape of the bookworm echoed through the twisting corridors. It was closing in fast. But then, nothing.

Finally, he stopped behind a massive bookshelf, pressing himself against the cold stone wall. His legs trembled beneath him as he struggled to catch his breath. The hallway behind him was silent. The bookworm must have given up. Either it had lost interest or found something else to sink its teeth into. Either way, it seemed to be gone.

The only problem now was that he had no idea where he was.

Catching his breath, he took in the surroundings. The shelves here were full of letters instead of books. Some were open, but most were sealed in their envelopes, with just a name on the outside. There was a strong smell of wax and parchment, but also something stronger, like old herbs steeped in a strong alcohol.

In the middle of the room stood a stone sarcophagus, engraved with ornate patterns. The lid was partially open, and the dust had been disturbed by tiny handprints across the surface.

Radley stepped closer, unsure if he should even touch the sarcophagus, but somehow he felt obliged to put the lid back. How could anyone break into a coffin and live with themselves? What kind of person would do that?

The floor was covered with footprints, and here and there, letters lay scattered as if abandoned in a rush. In a corner, a small inkwell lay broken on the floor in a dried stain of ink. It looked like a gaggle of the glimmerkin had rushed through the room, but glimmerkin usually wore boots, and these footprints were of bare feet. And they didn't look quite human either.

His attention returned to the sarcophagus. The inscription was intricate, written in a language he didn’t recognize. It must be the resting place of someone important, but who would be buried in a library? A librarian, perhaps, or a wizard? At least they would have plenty of books to read in the afterlife.

With a push, he tried to slide the lid back in place, but it was too heavy. Wondering who lay in there, he cast a quick look through the crack. A hooded robe was folded neatly over the remains of a skeleton, its skull staring back at him with hollow eyes.

He jerked back instinctively, his breath catching in his throat, but there was something about that robe. The fabric seemed untouched by time. Probably magic. He couldn’t help thinking it might be useful. After all, whoever lay in there didn’t need it. But at the same time, it wasn’t his. He was not about to rob a grave, no matter how tempting it might be.

Then again, after that run-in with the bookworm, he was really starting to feel out of his depth. This place was dangerous, and he needed every advantage he could get. Would it really be so wrong to help himself a little bit?

With a steadying breath, he reached into the sarcophagus. The fabric of the robe was softer than he expected, smooth and strangely cool. Carefully, he loosened it from the skeletal remains and lifted it up for a closer look.

A shimmer ran along the fabric as he turned it in his hands, the faintest pulse of magic radiating from its threads. It was clearly magic. Hopefully, it could help him get home, but before he could examine it further, the air shifted.

A figure stood at the end of the coffin, draped in a heavy black robe. Its hood was deep, swallowing its features, but Radley swore he saw the gleam of bone beneath the folds of shadow. The air around it warped, distorting the candlelight as if its presence alone bent reality.

"Stealing from the library is not allowed," the figure said, lifting a finger to point at Radley.

He tried to run, but before his legs could move, his vision blurred, and he collapsed. His head struck the cold floor, sending a sharp jolt of pain through his skull. Then everything went dark.

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