Chapter 21: Chaos in the Halls


    Abel moved swiftly through the dim corridors of the Stone Tower, his footsteps echoing against the cold stone. The shadows seemed to stretch longer than usual, as if something unseen lurked just beyond his vision. The Tower had always felt imposing, but today, there was a strange weight in the air, a heaviness that clung to his skin. His thoughts drifted back to the grotesque sight of the recruit from earlier—the spider-like books, skittering across the floor, and the boy''s horrified screams echoing in his ears. He shook the image from his mind as he approached the library.


    The large, dark wooden doors creaked open slowly, revealing the cavernous interior of the library. Rows upon rows of towering shelves loomed overhead, casting deep shadows that seemed to move as the flickering torchlight danced along the walls. The air inside was thick, almost oppressive, and the musty scent of old paper filled his nostrils.


    Marcella was already waiting for him, standing behind her desk as though she had sensed his arrival before he had even entered. Her face was serene and calm, and her pale blue eyes had a soft, maternal warmth that contrasted sharply with the cold, imposing atmosphere of the library.


    "You''re here for the task, aren’t you?" she asked before Abel could speak, her voice a soothing balm in the eerie silence of the library.


    Abel nodded. "Yes, I’m Abel. Glandel sent me for the task."


    Marcella’s lips curved into a faint smile. "Good. It’s rare for someone to choose this task, you know." She paused, her gaze drifting momentarily toward the far corners of the library, where the shadows seemed to stretch and writhe like living things. "But before we begin, there are some things you need to understand."


    Abel felt a slight unease creep up his spine, but he forced himself to listen intently. Marcella’s voice remained soft, but there was something unspoken beneath her words—something that made his skin prickle.


    "This library is not like others," she began, her gaze locking onto his. "It must be kept clean and, more importantly, kept... under control. At bay."


    "At bay?" Abel echoed, not fully understanding.


    Marcella’s smile deepened, though there was a flicker of something darker in her eyes. "The books here," she explained, "have a mind of their own. Some of them are mischievous—playful, even. Others... well, let’s just say they can be a bit temperamental. You must be careful with them, Abel."


    The memory of the spider-like books from earlier returned in full force, sending a shudder through Abel’s body. He imagined those leathery pages snapping and crawling, their spindly legs racing toward him, and it was enough to make his stomach twist.


    "You saw what happened earlier, didn’t you?" Marcella asked as if reading his thoughts. "The poor boy didn’t follow the rules. You must always be aware in this place. The books don’t tolerate carelessness."


    Abel swallowed hard, nodding. "I... I understand."


    "Good." Marcella’s smile softened again, and she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Her touch was cool, but there was something oddly comforting about it. "You’ll be working here after midday. Your hours are flexible, but don’t let other tasks interfere with your duties here. If you do well, this could become a recurring position."


    Abel felt a strange mixture of relief and unease. The library—while unnerving—was at least a safer option than venturing into the dangerous territories outside the Tower. "I’ll do my best," he promised, his voice steady.


    Marcella nodded approvingly. "I’m sure you will. Now, go back to Glandel and confirm your acceptance. I’ll see you tomorrow, Abel. And remember, keep the books... at bay."


    As Abel turned to leave, the heavy doors creaked shut behind him with a sound that sent a shiver down his spine. The hallway outside seemed darker now, the shadows clinging to the stone walls like ink. He hurried toward the task office, eager to escape the unsettling atmosphere of the library.


    When he reached Glandel, the taskmaster gave him a nod of approval. "Marcella accepted you, I see," Glandel said, his voice gruff as always.


    "Yes," Abel replied. "She said I could start tomorrow."


    "Good. You’ve landed yourself a decent position, boy. Don’t mess it up."


    Abel gave a small nod and turned to leave, feeling the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. As he made his way toward the stairs, he spotted Sena, Nando, and Isabella waiting nearby. They waved him over, eager to share their news.


    "What task did you get?" Sena asked, curiosity shining in her eyes.


    "The library," Abel answered, his voice steady despite the lingering unease in his gut. "I’ll be working there after midday."


    Isabella raised an eyebrow. "The library? No one ever takes that one."


    Abel shrugged, managing a small smile. "Guess I’m the exception."


    Nando laughed softly. "Better than herb gathering. We all got stuck with those tasks—different parts of the forest. Should be fun." His words were light, but Abel could sense the underlying tension in his voice. The Stone Forest was anything but fun.


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    As they exchanged stories about their assignments, a strange sound echoed through the hall—an unsettling shuffle that immediately drew their attention. The heavy doors of the Tower creaked open, and a figure stumbled inside. At first glance, it was hard to tell if it was a recruit or something else entirely. The boy’s face was pale, almost deathly so, his eyes wide and unfocused, staring in different directions as if he couldn’t see at all. His mouth hung open, drool slipping down his chin, and his hands twitched awkwardly at his sides. His robe resembled the ones worn by the non-gifted students, and his bracelet glowed in a peculiar light.


    The recruits stood frozen as the boy shuffled deeper into the hall, his dragging feet producing a sickening scrape against the stone floor. The unsettling sight of his pallid face, twisted and unnatural, sent waves of fear rippling through the gathered recruits. Whispers of uncertainty and disbelief filled the air, but no one dared move closer. It was as though they were all collectively holding their breath, waiting for some explanation—some sign that this was a terrible misunderstanding.


    Then the boy groaned—a low, guttural sound that bubbled up from deep within him. His mouth, already hanging slack, began to twitch unnaturally. His eyes, glassy and vacant, rolled in their sockets as if searching for something, but never settling. The bulges beneath his skin moved more violently now, rippling up his arms and neck, squirming like trapped serpents desperate to escape from beneath his skin. His fingers curled and uncurled spasmodically as if he were trying to grasp at something invisible.


    "Is he... okay?" a girl whispered, her voice trembling.


    No one answered. The recruits nearby took a cautious step back, their instincts screaming at them that something was very, very wrong. Abel’s heart pounded in his chest, his throat dry as he watched the horrific scene unfold moving back with caution.


    Suddenly, the boy let out a strangled gurgle, his body convulsing. His head snapped to the side with a grotesque crack, his spine bending unnaturally as his arms jerked upward. Without warning, he lunged forward, faster than anyone could have anticipated.


    Before anyone could react, the boy’s hands latched onto the throat of a nearby recruit, a girl standing no more than a few feet from where Abel had been frozen in fear. Her scream pierced the air, sharp and desperate, as the boy’s fingers dug into her flesh with inhuman strength. His grip was unrelenting, his twitching body shaking violently as he squeezed tighter.


    Abel’s breath hitched in his throat as he watched in horror. The boy''s mouth opened wide, wider than humanly possible, stretching unnaturally as his jaw unhinged. With a sickening, wet tearing sound, the bulges beneath his skin burst through, wriggling tendrils that snapped outward like frenzied eels. They writhed, their slimy, segmented bodies wriggling toward the girl’s face. Abel felt the bile rise in his throat as he watched one tendril force itself into her mouth, while others slithered up her nostrils and into her ears.


    The girl’s eyes bulged, her screams muffled as blood began to pour from her nose and mouth. Her body convulsed violently, her limbs jerking as if being shocked with raw power. The other recruits screamed, backing away in panic, their faces twisted in terror as they scrambled to escape the horror before them.


    Suddenly, the girl''s entire body stiffened. Her back arched grotesquely, and then, with a horrifying crunch, her head snapped back at an unnatural angle. The light in her eyes dimmed, her body going limp as she collapsed to the ground, lifeless.


    Chaos erupted. Recruits scattered in every direction, their panicked screams filling the air as they tripped over each other in their desperate attempt to flee.


    "Get back! Move!" someone shouted, their voice barely cutting through the cacophony.


    Abel stumbled backward, his heart hammering in his chest, his legs trembling with fear. His eyes remained fixed on the grotesque boy, who now stood over the girl’s mangled body, his chest heaving with erratic, twitching breaths. The tendrils that had emerged from beneath his skin continued to writhe, still slick with blood as they slithered back into his body with a sickening squelch. The boy’s head lolled to one side, his mouth still agape, and a garbled sound rumbled from deep within his throat—like a moan mixed with a snarl.


    And then, the boy''s head snapped toward another recruit.


    He lurched forward with a speed that defied his earlier shambling gait, his arms outstretched, fingers twitching as though eager to claim another victim. The target, a young man barely able to move in his terror, stumbled and fell to the ground, his eyes wide with panic as he scrambled backward. The boy’s claw-like hands reached out, his fingers just inches from the recruit''s face—


    "Enough!"


    Glandel’s voice boomed through the hall like a thunderclap. His presence was immediate and commanding, cutting through the chaos with an authority that stopped everyone in their tracks. The recruits who hadn’t yet fled froze, their eyes snapping to the figure of the stern faculty member as he marched toward the horrifying scene, his expression hard and grim.


    With a fluid motion, Glandel extended his hand, muttering a string of incantations under his breath. A pulse of dark energy radiated from his palm, streaking across the hall like a shadowy whip. The tendrils that had once wriggled beneath the boy’s skin recoiled violently as if burned by the power. The boy let out a garbled shriek, his body jerking and spasming as the dark magic coiled around him, binding him in place.


    "Everyone, to your rooms!" Glandel bellowed, his voice like a hammer, brooking no argument. "Now!"


    The recruits didn’t need to be told twice. They fled, rushing toward the stairwells in a stampede of fear and panic. Abel hesitated for a moment, his body trembling as he watched Glandel approach the abomination that had once been a boy. The dark magic wrapped tighter around the creature, its twitching movements growing slower, more strained.


    The grotesque boy’s eyes, still unfocused and wild, darted around the room, a low, keening sound rising from his throat. Blood and drool spilled from his open mouth, and his body shuddered as the wriggling mass beneath his skin tried to break free once more.


    But Glandel was relentless. He stepped closer, his hand outstretched, the magic pulsing stronger. With a final, wrenching cry, the boy’s body convulsed violently before collapsing to the floor, the last of the tendrils curling inward and dissolving into the air like wisps of smoke.


    Silence fell over the hall.


    Abel stood frozen, his breath coming in shallow gasps, his mind struggling to comprehend the horror he had just witnessed. The room was eerily still, save for the faint crackle of residual magic in the air. Glandel stood over the boy’s twisted form, his face grim, his eyes cold as he surveyed the aftermath. Without looking up, he spoke in a low, firm voice.


    "This is a warning to all of you," he said, his tone icy. "This Tower protects those within its walls—but there are forces at play here that none of you are prepared to face. Now, return to your rooms and always stay cautious. Do not leave until summoned."


    Abel’s legs finally obeyed him, and he stumbled back toward the stairs, his mind still reeling from the gruesome sight. The Tower, once a place of mystery and opportunity, now felt like something else entirely—something darker, something far more dangerous than he had ever imagined.