Finally, I decided to take a break. Standing up straight, I stretched my arms overhead, wincing as my spine popped in several places. I peeled off the dragonhide gloves, setting them on the table beside a particularly ornate scroll I hadn't classified yet.
"Sweet relief," I murmured, flexing my fingers. The gloves were necessary, but they made my hands sweat terribly.
That's when the floor beneath me suddenly lurched.
Books shuddered on their shelves as a low rumble vibrated through the building. I grabbed the edge of the table to steady myself as the tremors increased, sending a few loose scrolls rolling across the surface.
"What the…!" I began, just as a powerful shockwave ripped through the room, knocking me sideways.
My hip slammed into the table edge as I stumbled. I reached out blindly to catch myself, my bare hand slapping down on the table, right onto the ornate scroll I'd set aside.
The moment my skin made contact with the ancient parchment, a searing pain shot up my arm. I tried to pull away, but my hand seemed fused to the scroll. Brilliant blue light erupted from beneath my palm, pulsing outward in a wave that rippled through the room, through the walls, and beyond.
In the space between heartbeats, something changed. The air felt charged, crackling with potential. The pain in my hand intensified, then vanished completely as the scroll crumbled to dust beneath my fingers.
When I finally managed to lift my hand, a glowing symbol had been burned into my palm. Intricate swirls and ancient runes that pulsed with a soft blue light. It didn't hurt, but it felt strange. Like my hand belonged to someone else.
Before I could process what had happened, alarms began blaring throughout the library, the magical breach sirens I'd only ever heard during drills.
"Oh fuck," I whispered, staring at my marked hand.
Heavy footsteps thundered toward the processing room, and seconds later, Malko burst through the door, his mossy skin now pale with alarm. His eyes immediately fell to my glowing palm, and he dragged one massive hand down his face in exasperation.
"You didn't," he groaned.
"It was an accident!" I held up my hands defensively. "There was an earthquake or something, from the alchemy lab next door, I think, and I fell, and the scroll just touched me!"
"That wasn't just any scroll, Winter." Malko's voice had dropped to a grave whisper. "That was the Lost Prophecy of Alexandria. We didn't even know what it was yet, it was still sealed when it arrived."
My stomach dropped. "And now it's in me?"
As if to answer my question, the mark on my palm pulsed brighter, sending another ripple of blue energy across the room.
Malko grabbed the ancient rotary phone we kept for magical emergencies, regular phones tended to melt during magical incidents, and dialed a number with grim resignation.
"This is Malko Stonehammer at Arcadia University Library. We have a Class 1 Prophecy Incident. No, I'm not joking. Yes, I need a full PEB response team." He paused, listening. "Yes, it's active. No, I don't know the contents. The scroll transferred to a human host before we could translate it."
I sank into a chair, suddenly feeling light-headed. The Prophecy Enforcement Bureau. They were the magical government's elite force for handling runaway prophecies, the kind that rewrote reality if left unchecked. They didn't mess around.
It took less than ten minutes before the doors to the special collections room burst open, and a team in sleek gray uniforms poured in. At their head was a tall elven woman with platinum blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her pointed ears twitched with irritation as she surveyed the scene, her eyes eventually landing on my glowing palm.
"I'm Agent Sylvia Nightstar, PEB," she announced crisply. "Which one of you is the host?"
Malko pointed at me without hesitation. Some loyalty.
Agent Nightstar strode toward me, her hand outstretched. "Let me see it."
Before I could respond, she grabbed my wrist, yanking my hand up to eye level. Her touch was cold, clinical, and I instinctively pulled back.
"Hey! Boundaries!" I snapped, jerking my hand away from her grip.
As my hand moved, a streak of blue light leapt from my palm, arcing toward one of the security guards who'd entered with the PEB team. The man barely had time to look surprised before his form contracted, twisted, and shrank, leaving behind a very confused-looking ferret in a uniform puddle on the floor.
A shocked silence fell over the room.
The ferret chattered angrily, running in circles.
"Oh fuck," I breathed, staring at my hand in horror.
