"Behind you," murmured Kai.

  Finn turned and almost jumped out of his seat. A man stood directly at his shoulder, though he'd made not the slightest sound approaching. Professor Myrddin was exactly as he'd heard other students describing him. A wiry frame draped in a slate-grey cloak embroidered with silver ogham, thick white mustache bristling beneath a hawkish nose, wooden-framed glasses magnifying piercing green eyes. He wasn't tall, but something about his presence filled the space around him.

  "New thread in our weave," Myrddin said, his voice a low, melodic burr.

  "Finn Madden. Drawn patterns in áine's chamber without training. Interesting."

  It wasn't a question, but Finn felt compelled to respond.

  "I didn't mean to-"

  "Intention matters less than outcome," Myrddin interrupted, studying Finn with unnerving intensity. "The Aether responds to what we are, not what we intend to be."

  Without waiting for a reply, he moved to the chamber's center beside the silver-barked book. "Samhain approaches," he announced. "The veil thins, and the books feel it. The old texts remember when there was no veil at all, when Otherworld and mortal realm flowed together as one stream." He traced a symbol in the air that burned briefly with silver light before fading. The chamber's ambient illumination dimmed instantly, leaving only the central book's pulsing light and the faint glow of the wall orbs.

  "Runes," Myrddin continued, "are the bones of language. Before speech, before writing, there were symbols that carried meaning between worlds.

  "The ogham," he gestured to the script carved into the tables, "is but one tradition among many. The Norse had their futhark, the Egyptians their hieroglyphs, the Chinese their pictographs. All are attempts to capture the language of the Aether itself."

  The professor opened the silver-barked book. Brilliant light spilled from its pages, casting his shadow across the wall behind him, as symbols rose from the open pages, glowing, hovering just a few centimeters in the air above the text.

  "These are the Elder Signs," Myrddin said, his whisper loud as thunder in the otherwise dead silent library. "The first runes, from which all others descended. They speak directly to the Aether's flow. And unlike the cardinal principle in Aether-weaving and spirit speaking, the Elder Signs do not request. They command."

  The floating symbols shifted, rearranging themselves into patterns that made Finn's eyes water if he looked at them directly. There was something fundamentally unsettling about them, though they didn't feel evil. Alien, like from another planet, described it better, as if operating according to laws of reality that defied his understanding.

  "The nature of runes stretches beyond symbolism or decoration," Myrddin continued, his gnarled finger tracing one of the hovering signs.

  "They are keys to the fundamental forces that shape our world. Each rune embodies a specific aspect of creation - protection, binding, transformation, revelation, concealment."

  His eyes narrowed.

  "In the hands of those who would pervert their purpose, some can even be twisted to control flesh and soul, though such abominations have no place in the civilized study of the runic arts."

  The professor circled his hand, drawing an Elder Sign closer. It resembled a tree with roots and branches extending in impossible directions, pulsing with soft golden light.

  "This is the Tree Rune - Crann in the old tongue. It governs growth, life, and the connection between all living things. A master runesmith could inscribe this upon a withered field and restore it to fertility. Carved into a weapon, it might heal any wound the moment it is dealt, making the blade useless for harm. Traced upon a door by the right hands, it could create a barrier that only those of pure intent can pass."

  Another rune floated towards them, a spiral that seemed to turn inward endlessly, giving Finn a sensation of vertigo after briefly fixating on its center.

  "The Spiral of Binding - Ceangal. It controls forces of attraction and repulsion, binding and release. Inscribed correctly, it can seal a door against any key, hold a bridge against any storm, or compel truth from the most practiced liar." Myrddin's expression grew stern. "It can also bind a soul to unwilling service, which is why knowing how to inscribe it is restricted to those who have proven their wisdom and integrity."

  A third rune joined the others, angular and sharp, reminding Finn of stylized lighting.

  "The Shard of Severance - Scoilt. Where the Spiral binds, the Shard cuts. It can sever connections, break enchantments, dissolve illusions. A blade marked with this rune could cut through any shield and any armor. Traced in the air, it might part a raging river or cleave a mountain." He paused meaningfully. "Or separate a soul from its body, if wielded without restraint."

  Finn felt a chill run down his spine. Around him, other students shifted uncomfortably.

  "But these are just examples," Myrddin continued, beckoning the three runes back to their companions. "There are Elder Signs for every aspect of existence. Runes of hiding that can make entire cities invisible, runes of knowing that reveal the deepest secrets, runes of travel that we use for portals. The storm rune can summon lightning or calm the fiercest gale. The water rune can part seas or call down flooding rains. The fire rune can ignite the sun itself or snuff out every flame in a kingdom." Myrddin's voice took on a warning tone.

  "But power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Mastering the Elder Signs is nearly impossible for a reason. In the wrong hands, a single rune could destroy continents. During the fall of Atlantis, it was said that rogue runesmiths attempted to inscribe the Elder Sign of Dominion upon the very foundations of reality itself. The backlash drowned their entire civilization beneath the waves."

  He raised his hand, and all the floating runes returned to hovering above the silver-barked book. "The lesser runes you will learn are echoes of these Elder Signs. Protection runes derive from the great Shield of Sanctuary. Communication runes stem from the Voice that Carries Truth. Even simple light runes are shadows cast by the Eternal Flame."

  He closed the book gently, the light fading from the chamber.

  "This is why we begin with simple protection runes, why years of study are required before advancing to more potent inscriptions. Rune-craft demands skill, wisdom, restraint, and above all, respect for the forces being channeled."

  "Today," Myrddin continued, "you will learn the first protection rune: the Watcher's Seal. When properly inscribed, it guards books, doorways, or vessels against unwanted intrusion." His eyes swept the chamber.

  "With Samhain approaching, our more sensitive volumes require additional warding." He pointed to the pots of ink that gleamed with metallic sheen. "The ink contains rowan ash and quicksilver. The combination allows your intent to bind with the Aether's flow, creating a seal that ordinary magic cannot breach."

  With a few graceful strokes, Myrddin quickly traced a rune into the air. It looked like an inward-curving spiral intersected by three lines that formed a triangle at its center.

  "The spiral represents the Aether's flow," he explained. "The triangle represents the three realms, the mortal world, the Otherworld, and Tír nan Draoi between. By connecting them within a contained spiral, you create a barrier that recognizes and admits only those energies you designate as welcome." The rune glowed briefly, then settled onto Finn's parchment as if it had always been there.

  "You will practice on these sheets first," Myrddin instructed. "When you have mastered the form, you will inscribe a real seal on one of the volumes requiring protection."

  The students bent over their sheets of parchment, carefully copying what the professor had just demonstrated. Finn picked up the scribe's knife in front of him. Its handle was long as a pen, its edge half the length of that of a butter knife and just as dull, not sharp enough to cut, but perfect for channeling energy into the metallic ink. He dipped it carefully and began to trace the spiral.

  The moment the knife touched the surface, he felt a light, energetic resistance, as if the parchment was pushing back against his attempt to inscribe the rune.

  Weird. Feels like forcing together two magnets, he thought. He pressed harder, focused on maintaining the spiral's curve.

  "Too much pressure," Kai muttered beside him, his own spiral almost completed.

  "You're forcing it. The rune has to breathe. Relax your wrist."

  Breathe? How? Finn tried again, relaxing his grip, allowing the spiral to flow more naturally from his hand. The resistance lessened immediately, and the ink spread in a clean, even line. As he began to draw the interior triangle, the familiar warmth spread in his chest and wandered into his arms, then his hand and fingers that held the rune knife.

  "Better," Kai whispered. "Now connect the points without lifting the knife. The seal must be unbroken, or it won't work."

  Finn held his breath and tried to focus on the point where his rune knife met the parchment, careful to maintain a continuous line without slipping. As he finished the final stroke, he felt pearls of sweat running down his forehead and armpits. After what felt like an eternity, the symbol pulsed once with blue-silver light before settling into the parchment.

  "Interesting," Myrddin's voice came from directly behind him, making Finn wince. The professor had a disconcerting habit of appearing without warning. He picked up Finn's parchment, studying it with clinical interest.

  "You drew the spiral curves widdershins rather than sunwise. Unorthodox. But just as effective." He set it down again.

  "You may proceed to a practical application. Third level, western alcove. The volume bound in blue leather with silver clasps. It requires renewal of its protection seal. I'll check your work later."

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  Before Finn could ask how to get to the third level, Myrddin had drifted away to scrutinize someone else's work.

  "How do I get up there?" Finn whispered to Kai, glancing at the spiral staircases and the floating platforms that drifted between shelves and levels throughout the vast chamber.

  "Climb the stairs," Sophie said, a hint of amusement in her eyes, "but I think Kai is keen to show you one of his tricks."

  "Watch," Kai replied, standing. He traced a symbol in the air, similar to the protection rune, but inverted, and whispered something Finn couldn't catch. One of the floating platforms detached from a distant shelf and drifted toward them, coming to rest at their table's edge.

  "Air elementals control the platforms. They respond to a summoning rune and will bring you to any location as long as it's within their defined boundaries." Kai stepped onto the wooden platform and gestured for Finn to follow.

  "Third level, western alcove," he added, tracing the symbol again. The platform rose smoothly, carrying them upward through the chamber's tiered levels. Finn gripped its edge, fighting a wave of vertigo as the floor dropped away beneath them. All around, similar platforms carried other students, while a few older Weavers browsed the shelves using the spiral staircases or, in some cases, tall rolling ladders that seemed to move without anyone pushing them.

  "You get used to it," Kai grinned, noting Finn's white-knuckled grip. "I've never seen someone fall off, though I'm sure if that means much coming from a fellow first year."

  Their platform came to rest beside a wrought-iron railing that encircled the library's third level. The western alcove was a small reading nook set into the curving wall, with a single lectern holding an ancient volume bound in blue leather. Silver clasps sealed its edges, and a variety of runes were etched into its cover.

  "That's it," Kai said, waiting for Finn to step off the platform.

  Finn examined the book without touching it. 'A bestiary of water elementals', the title read, and below it in smaller font, 'compiled during the Great Tide of 1014'. The existing protection seal looked faded, its lines dulled with age.

  "Where do I place the new seal?" he asked, retrieving the rune knife and ink pot from his pocket.

  "Right on top of the old one," Kai replied. "The fresh energy will revitalize the existing pattern. But be careful. Some books bite if approached carelessly."

  Finn wasn't sure if he was joking, though Kai's grin gave him hope that biting books weren't really a thing. He carefully set down the ink pot and readied the knife, studying the faded rune to ensure he understood its structure. As he leaned forward for the first stroke, a strange prickling awareness crawled up his spine, as if something was watching him from all directions.

  "It knows you're there," Kai murmured. "Speak to it. Tell it your intention."

  Really? He wants me to talk to a book?

  Feeling slightly embarrassed, Finn cleared his throat. "I'm...uh...I'm here to renew your..uh...your protection seal," he stuttered, as if approaching a mean-looking dog. "For Samhain."

  When nothing snapped at his fingers, Finn dipped the knife in the metallic ink and carefully began tracing over the faded rune. The instant the knife touched the leather, a jolt ran up his arm as if he had plunged it into ice-cold water. The book's energy, ancient and wild, surged toward him. Relax and focus. Don't break the line. The silver ink glowed faintly as he retraced the seal. The warmth in his chest expanded, meeting the book's cold energy, and his hand moved with increasing confidence. When he completed the final stroke, the entire rune flared with brilliant blue-silver light. For a fraction of a moment, the book seemed to tremble, its clasps tightening, and then the light faded, leaving the rune fresh and vibrant against the blue leather.

  "Looks like it worked," Finn said, turning to Kai for approval. "Felt weird at first, cold and wet, exactly like its title." As he set down the knife and flexed his fingers to dispel the lingering tingle of Aether, an odd sense of satisfaction took hold of him, as if he'd helped shelter something precious.

  Their platform returned them to the main floor, where Myrddin waited.

  "Completed?" he asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer. Before Finn could reply, the professor turned away, addressing the class.

  "You have made your first contributions to protecting the Archives through Samhain. Rune renewal is a necessity to ensure that the knowledge of generations, essential to your training and development, remains secure for another turning of the wheel." He closed the silver-barked book on the central pedestal.

  "Class dismissed, except for you, Mr. Madden. Please remain."

  Sophie and Kai exchanged glances, then looked at Finn with a mix of concern and curiosity. "We'll wait outside," Sophie whispered. "Just don't look directly at his eyes if he gets intense. Some higher years swear he can read thoughts that way."

  As the other students filed out, Finn remained at his table, his stomach knotting with anxiety.

  I screwed it up. Maybe he wanted me to do this alone, without Kai's Aladdin trick. Or did I mess up the rune? He ran through the procedure in his mind, tracing the pattern, desperately trying to identify any mistakes.

  When the chamber emptied, Myrddin walked over to Finn, pulling a chair opposite him and sitting with deliberate care, hands on his knees, his torso fully erect. For a long moment, he studied Finn in silence, his magnified green eyes flickering in the dim library light.

  "You carry something," Myrddin said finally. "Something old. May I see it?"

  Finn blinked. "Sir?"

  "The acorn," Myrddin said, gesturing to Finn's pocket. "I can sense it."

  Startled, Finn reached into his pocket and withdrew the acorn he'd kept from the oak in Duncliffe. Its surface still bore the faint spiral mark that had glowed momentarily when it fell into his hand that night Liam had torn his book.

  The moment it touched the professor's palm, the faint spiral marking flared to life, pulsing with a green-gold glow.

  "As I thought," Myrddin murmured, turning the acorn carefully, examining it from all angles. "This is no ordinary seed. It's a Heart-seed, carrying a fragment of the Croi Tree's essence, a piece of a greater consciousness, given physical form." He looked up at Finn. "The Croi Tree of the Grove produces such seeds only rarely."

  "But this came from an oak in Duncliffe," Finn said. "Behind my house, nowhere near the Grove. I brought it here."

  A smile twitched beneath Myrddin's mustache.

  "The Croi Tree is ancient. Its roots extend far beyond the Grove's boundaries, connecting to every sacred oak in the isles. What appears as separate trees to mortal eyes is often a single entity in the Aether's flow."

  He returned the acorn, its glow fading as it left his palm. "The tree chose you long before Morrigan found you. It has been watching, waiting for you to wake to your heritage."

  Finn wasn't sure if he had heard the professor correctly.

  "My heritage? What do you mean?"

  "Some knowledge must be earned." Myrddin leaned forward, lowering his voice. "But I will tell you this. The acorn is both key and compass. Keep it close, especially during Samhain. The veil thins, and what was separate becomes permeable."

  Finn was deeply confused. Though he felt the professor was trying to help, the talk of heritage, keys, and compasses made no sense, at least not to him.

  "Professor," he said, gathering his courage, "Before the Warden came to bring me here, I kept having these dreams about a cauldron. They still come to me. And it looks very similar, almost identical to the one I keep seeing on tapestries and engravings in the Grove. I was wondering...I mean, you seem to know a lot about these kinds of things."

  For a moment, the chamber's ambient light seemed to dim further, the silence growing thick enough to touch. When Myrddin spoke again, his voice had lost its melodic quality, now dry as ancient parchment.

  "The Cauldron is among the Eldest artifacts, forged when the world was young, and the Tuatha Dé Danann walked freely upon the earth. Its purpose," he paused, choosing his words with visible care, "...is transformation. Life from death. Order from chaos. Power from sacrifice," he paused again, "...or the other way around."

  He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the stone floor. "But these are matters beyond first-year studies, Mr. Madden. Focus on your training. Master the basics before venturing into deeper waters."

  Finn knew that he was dismissed, but decided to try his luck.

  "Sir, the one in my dreams glows with blue-silver light, the same colors as my Aether threads. It's always the same: a forest clearing, ruins, and a cauldron that pulses with light. There's a voice calling my name, but I can never see who's speaking."

  The professor had picked up the silver-barked book from its pedestal and turned back to Finn. "Return after Samhain Eve. There are texts you should see. Histories that may shed light on your dreams."

  Hope leapt in Finn's chest. "You can help me understand them?"

  "I can help you ask better questions," Myrddin corrected, a hint of his earlier warmth returning. "Understanding is your task alone." He nodded toward the door. "Go now. You have much to learn."

  Outside the Archival Wing, Sophie and Kai practically pounced on him.

  "What happened?" Sophie demanded. "What did he want? Did he do that thing where his eyes glow and he speaks in riddles?"

  Finn hesitated, unsure whether Sophie was teasing him and pondering how much to share. The conversation with Myrddin felt private somehow.

  "He asked about my acorn," he said finally, and produced the seeds from his pockets. "Said it's connected to the Croi Tree. And that it found me. I'm going back after Samhain to see some texts about... about dreams I've been having."

  "Special studies with Myrddin?" Sophie whistled. "That's unheard of for first-years."