The downpour poured perseveringly as Elara pushed open the weighty wooden entryways of the failed to remember library. Dust twirled in the faint candlelight, and the aroma of old material swirled around. She had looked for a really long time, following obscure signs and murmurs of an old curio — the Book of Lost Spells.
Legends discussed its power. It was said to contain wizardry so uncommon and hazardous that it had been stowed away for a really long time, locked behind spells that main the commendable could break. Elara, a youthful sorceress frantic to reestablish her family's lost sorcery, realized this was her last opportunity.
She ran her fingers over the spines of innumerable books prior to halting at a dark calfskin bound book with brilliant engravings. As she pulled it from the rack, the room shuddered. A profound, rough voice reverberated through the chamber.
"Information requests penance."
Elara gulped hard and opened the book. Its pages sparkled faintly, uncovering spells long deleted from history — spells to twist time, to bring storms, to restore the dead. Yet, at the lower part of the principal page, an admonition showed up:
"To take enchantment, one should offer something as a trade off."
Her heart beat. She had come looking for power, however at what cost? She turned a page, and the words moved before her eyes. A spell of colossal strength called to her, promising to reestablish her family's inheritance. In any case, as she followed the images, a sharp aggravation shot through her chest.
The book was taking something from her.
Recollections flew away with a sense of finality — her mom's giggling, the glow of her young life home, the substance of the sibling she had committed to safeguard. With each word she read, one more piece of her past blurred, evaporating like ink in water.
Acknowledgment struck like a thunderclap. This was the book's cost — not gold, not blood, but rather her own set of experiences.
She delayed. Assuming she proceeded, she would acquire the power she looked for however lose herself totally. Assuming that she halted, her family's sorcery would stay lost until the end of time.
Tears obscured her vision. With a shaking hand, she shut the book.
The chamber fell quiet. The aggravation blurred. However, when she attempted to review her sibling's name, just a vacancy remained.
Elara lurched back, grasping the book firmly. She had quit any trace of something valuable, however she actually had a decision — to allow the book to control her, or to track down another way.
With a full breath, she murmured a chant of fixing and put the book back on the rack.
Some information, she understood, was never intended to be found.
