The unease lingered in every corner of my mind, a constant hum that grew louder with each passing day. My dreams were fragmented, haunted by images I could never fully grasp. I often found myself retreating to the library, drawn to the solitude it offered. In the farthest corner, where no one else ventured, I could almost forget the world outside—almost.

I reached for a book on the highest shelf, my fingers just barely grazing its spine. I stretched as far as I could, but it remained just out of reach. Biting my lip, I glanced around to make sure no one was watching. The library was empty, as usual.

 

With a determined breath, I placed my foot on the lower shelf, testing it with my weight. The wooden structure creaked in protest but held. I hesitated, then shifted more of my weight onto it, bracing myself with one hand against the bookshelf. Carefully, I pulled myself up, my other hand reaching for the book.

 

But as I did, the entire bookshelf wobbled beneath me. Panic flashed through my mind, but it was too late to stop. The freestanding structure, unanchored to the wall, couldn’t support the sudden shift in weight. The shelves groaned, and in a heartbeat, the whole thing began to tip forward.

 

“No, no, no!” My mind screamed as I lost my balance, the world tilting as the bookshelf was crushing down. I felt myself falling backward, the weight of the books and the shelf looming over me, about to crush me beneath its weight.

 

This can’t be happening! My heart pounded in my chest as I braced for the impact, a scream lodged in my throat. My eyes squeezed shut, every muscle in my body tensed, waiting for the inevitable crash.

 

But the crash never came.

 

Slowly, almost disbelievingly, I opened my eyes. The sight that greeted me left me breathless. The entire bookshelf, along with all the books that had been toppling toward me, was suspended in mid-air. They hovered inches above the ground, defying gravity in a surreal, impossible scene.

 

“How is this happening?” My thoughts were a whirl of disbelief and fear. I was sprawled on the floor, my heart still racing, but the impending disaster had been halted—by me.

 

“Did I do this?” The idea was absurd, and yet the evidence was all around me. I could feel something within me, an unfamiliar power thrumming beneath my skin, as if the very air around me had bent to my will.

 

My breathing quickened as I stared at the frozen chaos, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing. Tentatively, I focused on the suspended bookshelf and the scattered books.

 

“Go back.” I willed them, not even sure what I was doing or how. To my astonishment, the bookshelf slowly righted itself, the books slipping back into place on the shelves as if guided by invisible hands.

 

My hands trembled as I pushed myself up from the floor, my legs unsteady beneath me.

 

“What just happened?” The question echoed in my mind, growing louder with each passing second. I stared at the now perfectly arranged bookshelf, my thoughts a tangled mess of fear, confusion, and something else—something like awe.

 

I took a shaky step back, my heart still racing, when my heel caught the edge of another shelf behind me. I stumbled, and before I could steady myself, a single book toppled off the shelf, landing on the floor with a soft thud. The sound jolted me out of my daze, and I looked down at the book lying at my feet.

 

The title, embossed in faded gold letters, seemed to shimmer in the dim light: The Arcane Arts: A Study of Witchcraft and Magic. My breath caught in my throat. “Witchcraft? Magic?” My pulse quickened, a chill running down my spine. “Is this… a sign?”

 

With trembling hands, I picked up the book, my fingers brushing over the worn leather cover. I hesitated, then opened it to the first page. The text was old, the ink slightly faded, but the words were clear. The book spoke of ancient powers, the kind that only those born with a gift could wield—telekinesis, elemental control, healing… Each word resonated within me, like the echo of something long forgotten.

 

“Could this be what I am?” The thought terrified me, but it also filled me with a strange, almost exhilarating sense of possibility.

 

If I truly possessed magic, then everything about me—everything I didn’t know—might finally start to make sense. But what if someone found out? What if Cedric found out?

 

I clutched the book to my chest, my mind racing. I couldn’t let anyone know, not until I understood what was happening. The risks were too great. With a final, hurried glance around the library, I turned and rushed back to my room, the sound of my footsteps echoing in the quiet halls.

 

Once inside, I closed the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment to catch my breath. I looked down at the book in my hands, my grip tightening. This is just the beginning, I thought, a mixture of dread and determination settling over me. I have to find out the truth… no matter what it takes.

 

***

 

 

It had been days since I discovered the terrifying, yet astonishing truth about myself—that I possessed powers beyond my understanding. Ever since that chaotic moment in the library, I had secluded myself in my room, avoiding unnecessary contact with anyone in the castle. The fear of being discovered gnawed at me constantly, so I kept my interactions brief, only seeing others during my bath time and meals. The rest of the time, I buried myself in the book I had found, desperate to make sense of my new reality.

 

Sitting on my bed, the heavy tome spread across my lap, I traced my fingers over the worn pages, absorbing every word with a mix of dread and fascination. The book spoke of witches and their abilities—some of which sounded more like myths than anything real. But I knew better now. Magic wasn’t just a story; it was part of me.

 

The book described two types of witches. The first, the more common, needed spells, sigils, and rituals to channel their powers. The spells seemed like an anchor, a way to grasp and shape the power within, to limit it and keep it from overwhelming the caster.

 

But the second type... I shivered as I read about them. These witches were different. Rare. They didn’t need spells or sigils. Their magic was innate, a raw force that responded directly to their emotions and will. It flowed through them naturally, without the need for incantations or symbols to guide it. The book called them Instinctual Witches, a term that struck fear deep into my heart.

 

“Is this what I am?” The question haunted me, looping endlessly in my thoughts.

I recalled the moment in the library, the books and shelves obeying me without a single word or gesture. The power had surged from within me, unbidden and untamed, as if it had a mind of its own. I hadn’t spoken any spells, hadn’t drawn any sigils. The realization both thrilled and terrified me.

 

I closed the book, my fingers trembling slightly as I clutched it to my chest. The idea that I might be an Instinctual Witch was as exhilarating as it was frightening. I didn’t know what it meant—what kind of responsibility or danger it might bring. The book had been vague, offering more questions than answers. If I truly had this rare and powerful gift, what was I supposed to do with it? How could I learn to control something that seemed to have no limits?

 

My thoughts spiraled as I sat there, my heart pounding in the quiet of my room. Part of me wanted to run, to hide from this terrifying power that I didn’t understand. But another part, a small yet insistent voice in the back of my mind, whispered that this was my chance—an opportunity to discover who I really was and what I was from.

 

“But what if I hurt someone?” The fear gnawed at me. The memory of the collapsing bookshelf, of my panic and the sudden surge of power, was still fresh. I hadn’t meant to do it; it had just happened. What if it happened again, but worse? What if I couldn’t control it next time? The thought made my stomach twist with anxiety.

 

Yet despite the fear, there was a flicker of something else inside me—hope. For the first time since I had woken up on that riverbank with no memories, I had something to hold onto, something that might lead me to the truth. This book was the first piece of the puzzle, and though it frightened me, it also gave me a direction, a place to start.

 

“At least I’m not completely lost anymore,” I thought, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. I could study, learn, and maybe—just maybe—figure out how to control this power before it controlled me.

 

I took a deep breath, pressing the book against my chest as if it could somehow shield me from the uncertainties ahead.

 

“I have to be careful,” I reminded myself. “No one can know about this until I understand what it means.” The stakes were too high, and I had no idea who I could trust. For now, I would keep my secret and continue my search for answers.

 

I glanced out the window, the sunlight casting a warm glow across my room. The outside world seemed so far away, filled with people going about their lives, blissfully unaware of the turmoil raging within me. I longed to join them, to forget all.