The hum of the Lore Wing wasn’t soothing anymore. It crawled under my skin like a restless vibration, growing more intense the longer I stayed. Something felt off—out of sync—but Milo, ever the pragmatist, dismissed my unease with barely a second glance.

  My fingers hovered over the AR interface, “Is it just me, or is it getting colder in here?”

  “Climate-controlled,” he said when I mentioned the sudden chill. “It’s just the ambiance.”

  Ambiance. Sure. Totally normal for lights to flicker and ghostly noises to echo in a library. I pressed my lips into a thin line, trying to focus on the glowing hologram of the Storm’s Beacon. The glyphs etched into its surface tugged at the edge of my thoughts, teasing me like a melody I couldn’t place—familiar, yet frustratingly elusive.

  I rubbed my arms and glanced toward the far end of the Lore Wing. The restricted section’s AR screen shimmered faintly, its bold letters—“Restricted Access: Authorized Personnel Only”—standing stark against the dim light. But something wasn’t right. The barrier flickered—not smoothly, like technology should—but erratically, like it had been… tampered with.

  “Milo,” I said, keeping my voice low but insistent.

  “What now?” he replied, not even bothering to look up from his terminal.

  “Look at that,” I whispered, nodding toward the restricted section. “The AR screen. It’s flickering.”

  He sighed loudly, finally raising his eyes. “Probably just a glitch,” he said, his tone dismissive.

  “No, it’s not,” I insisted. “It looks like someone’s tampered with it.”

  Milo squinted at the screen but didn’t seem convinced. “Maybe it’s maintenance,” he said, his tone even but dismissive.

  I turned back to the hologram of the Beacon, the swirling glyphs spinning lazily as though mocking my unease. But I couldn’t focus on them anymore. My gaze kept darting back to the flickering screen.

  And then I heard it again.

  A laugh.

  Soft, faint, and distant, curling around my thoughts like a whisper I wasn’t meant to hear.

  “Milo,” I whispered sharply. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” he asked, his voice skeptical.

  “That laugh,” I hissed, turning to him. “It was right there.”

  Milo frowned, glancing back toward the screen. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  But I did.

  The laugh was still there, faint but persistent, weaving through the hum of the room. It wasn’t a sound anyone else would notice—not Milo, not anyone passing by—but I felt it in my chest, deep and hollow like the echo of a memory I couldn’t place.

  The screen flickered again, the distortion rippling like water, and my stomach twisted. My hands curled into fists at my sides.

  Milo’s Perspective

  Milo sighed, watching Isabelle inch closer to the restricted section. She stood just a few feet from the barrier now, her arms crossed and her gaze fixed on the flickering light.

  “This isn’t our problem,” he said, his voice low but firm. “If something’s wrong, we tell someone. That’s it.”

  She didn’t respond, her focus glued to the screen. Milo glanced around the room, uneasy. The hum of the Lore Wing felt heavier now, pressing against his ears like static. Shadows seemed sharper, the light more fragile.

  He hated this. Isabelle’s instincts had a way of digging into things best left alone, and yet, they always led somewhere.

  He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Isabelle, stop. You don’t know what’s going on. It’s probably nothing.”

  Her head snapped toward him, her eyes narrowing. “You don’t feel it?”

  “Feel what?” he asked, his frustration rising. “The air? The lights? What exactly do you think is happening here?”

  Isabelle’s Perspective

  What’s happening here is something you can’t feel.

  I didn’t answer him. The AR screen pulsed again, its distortion sharper this time, and the laugh curled around me once more.

  It wasn’t playful, like a Gastly’s. It was something else, something older. It felt layered, like it wasn’t just one voice but many, weaving together in a sound only I could hear.

  The hum of the Lore Wing wasn’t soothing anymore. It pressed against my chest like a deep vibration, as if the room itself had shifted into some heavier reality. I stared at the AR barrier marking the restricted section, my mind churning as the flickering text distorted once more before snapping back into place.

  Milo stood beside me, arms crossed, his frown deep enough to rival a chasm. “This is a bad idea,” he said, his voice low and insistent. “We should report this. Right now.”

  I barely heard him. The pull toward the restricted section was overwhelming, a weight dragging at my gut, urging me forward.

  Then she appeared—my mental projection.

  She looked exactly like me: same height, same sharpness in her eyes, the same tension in her posture. She wasn’t some exaggerated caricature of my thoughts this time. No outfits, no sarcasm, no jokes. Just her, staring back at me with the clarity I didn’t want to face.

  “You feel it, don’t you?” she said, her tone quiet but firm. “Whatever’s in there—it’s calling you.”

  “No, it’s not,” I muttered under my breath.

  She tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. “Stop lying to yourself. You know it is. You’ve always felt these things, even if you don’t understand why.”

  “I don’t feel anything,” I snapped, too sharply, earning a confused glance from Milo.

  “Are you arguing with yourself again?” he asked, his voice edged with skepticism.

  I ignored him, my focus locked on her.

  “It’s not just the screen,” she continued, her voice softer now. “It’s everything. The Beacon. The glyphs. The laughter. You can feel how connected you are to it, whether you want to admit it or not.”

  “Stop it,” I hissed, my chest tightening.

  Milo stepped closer, his concern cutting through the weight pressing against me. “Isabelle, you’re starting to freak me out. Whatever this is, it’s not worth getting into trouble over. Let’s report it and move on.”

  “She’s not wrong,” my projection said, her gaze flicking to Milo. “He’s right about one thing. This is dangerous. But you already know you’re going in anyway.”

  I clenched my fists. “Shut up,” I muttered, mostly to myself.

  “Okay,” Milo said, his voice rising slightly, “this is officially weird. What’s going on?”

  I took a deep breath, forcing myself to look at him. “Look, I just… I can’t walk away from this. I can’t explain it, but something’s telling me I need to go inside.”

  “You need to go inside,” he repeated flatly, his arms falling to his sides. “Do you hear yourself? This is exactly how people get banned from libraries forever.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Banned? From libraries?”

  “Do you have any idea how devastating that would be?” he shot back, gesturing wildly. “No more books. No more resources. No more—”

  “Knowledge?” I teased, grinning despite the weight pressing on my chest.

  “Exactly!” he snapped, his voice sharp but edged with exasperation. “I’m not risking a lifetime of intellectual starvation just because you’ve got a hunch.”

  I held up my hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. If we see anything, we’ll leave immediately. I promise.”

  He stared at me, unconvinced.

  “I mean it,” I added, trying to sound as sincere as possible. “We’re just… taking a peek. No breaking things. No stealing. Just looking. And if we find anything sketchy, we’ll report it. Scout’s honor.”

  “Were you even a scout?” Milo asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “No, but it’s the thought that counts,” I said with a smirk.

  Milo groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. But if we get caught, you’re explaining this. And if I get banned, I’m holding you personally responsible for my lifelong lack of knowledge.”

  “Deal,” I said, my grin widening. “Let’s go, partner.”

  “Don’t call me that,” he muttered, already moving forward.

  The barrier shimmered one last time before dissolving entirely, the text fading into nothingness.

  The restricted section stretched out before us, a labyrinth of towering shelves cloaked in shadow. Unlike the rest of the Lore Wing, the lighting here was dim, casting long, jagged shapes across the floor. Dust motes floated in the beams of faint light, and the air was thick, almost oppressive.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “This place is creepy,” Milo muttered, glancing around uneasily.

  “Creepy,” I echoed, though the word didn’t feel big enough. The silence wasn’t just quiet—it was alive, pressing against my ears like it was waiting for something.

  My projection appeared beside me again, her expression sharp as her gaze scanned the shelves. “There’s something here,” she said, her voice low but certain. “You can feel it, can’t you?”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to.

  Milo’s footsteps were slow and careful as he followed Isabelle deeper into the restricted section. “We shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly, his gaze darting between the shelves and the exit. “This isn’t research–this is trespassing.”

  “Relax,” I whispered back. “We’re just looking.”

  “Looking for what, exactly?” he shot back, his voice rising slightly. “And don’t say you’ll know when you see it.”

  Before I could respond, a faint giggle echoed from the shadows. Milo froze.

  “That laugh,” he whispered. “That wasn’t from before.”

  The grunt worked in silence, their gloved hands flying over the glowing terminal as data streamed onto a series of bulky, outdated disk drives stacked neatly on the desk. Each one clicked into place with a mechanical precision, transferring files one at a time. The drives were archaic, a relic of another age, but their design made them impossible to hack wirelessly—a necessity for the kind of secrets the grunt was after.

  Gastly hovered above them, its gaseous form swirling like smoke as its wide grin reflected the faint light. Its laughter was soft and uneven, a playful mockery of the tense silence.

  “Quiet,” the grunt snapped, their voice low but sharp.

  Gastly giggled again, spinning lazily in the air.

  The holographic files on the terminal’s screen flickered to life, rows of classified data scrolling rapidly. The grunt’s eyes darted across the text, scanning keywords: “Forces of Nature,” “Beacon Keys,” “Artifact Resonance.”

  Gastly floated closer to the terminal, its grin widening as the shadows around them seemed to deepen. The grunt didn’t notice. They were too focused on their work—and on the secrets they were about to steal.

  “This encryption is ancient,” they murmured, their voice muffled by the black mask obscuring their face. “Why keep this stuff locked away if it’s so useless? Unless…”

  Their eyes flicked to another line of text—“Active Frequency Experiments: Subject Tornadus.”

  The grunt smirked beneath their mask. “Jackpot.”

  We crouched low between the shelves, my heart hammering in my chest as the restricted section’s oppressive quiet pressed against my ears. The dim light barely illuminated the space, casting jagged shadows across the floor that danced with every flicker of motion.

  Milo shifted beside me, adjusting his glasses in what I could only describe as the nerdiest anime cliché I’d ever seen.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  “They’re stealing knowledge,” he said, his voice equal parts horrified and offended. “Knowledge, Isabelle. Do you have any idea how wrong that is?”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t you want to report this and leave? What happened to not getting banned for life?”

  “This is different,” he shot back, his tone indignant. “They’re stealing information that’s encrypted—physical drives, not digital. That’s not just secrecy. That’s someone hiding something dangerous.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, leaning closer to peer through the gaps in the shelves. The grunt’s uniform was sleek and utilitarian, every inch of their body covered in black Eclipse-branded gear. Even their face was hidden behind a cloth mask, leaving only their sharp, focused eyes visible as they worked at the terminal.

  Gastly floated nearby, giggling softly as it swirled in the shadows.

  “They look like they’re trying to unlock a vault from the 1980s,” I whispered. “Who even uses those anymore?”

  “People who don’t want their data hacked remotely,” Milo muttered, his tone tight with growing curiosity. “And if they’re going to these lengths…”

  “It’s bad,” I finished for him, swallowing hard.

  “Worse than bad,” he said. “We need to—”

  Gastly stopped spinning. Its red eyes locked directly on us, its grin widening.

  “Oh no,” Milo said, his voice dropping into a panicked whisper.

  The grunt’s head snapped up. “Who’s there?”

  “Run,” Milo hissed, grabbing my arm as Gastly let out a shrieking laugh and surged toward us.

  We scrambled to our feet, darting between shelves as the grunt’s harsh voice echoed behind us. “Stop right there!”

  “Yeah, that’s happening,” I muttered under my breath, yanking Milo along as we wove through the maze of towering shelves.

  Gastly’s laughter filled the air, sharp and relentless, the sound twisting like smoke through the aisles. Its eyes glowed faintly, casting eerie red light across the darkened shelves as it gained on us.

  “Don’t look back!” Milo warned, his voice strained. “Cover your eyes if it gets too close—it can use Hypnosis!”

  “Fantastic,” I snapped, nearly tripping over a loose book as we turned a corner. “Anything else I should know?”

  “Yeah,” Milo said, his voice tight. “It probably won’t stop chasing us until we’re unconscious. So… don’t slow down!”

  “Great plan, Professor,” I shot back. “Love this for us.”

  We tore through the narrow aisles, the shadows stretching and shifting as Gastly closed in. The grunt’s heavy boots echoed behind us, punctuated by the sharp metallic clatter of something being drawn from their belt.

  “Exterminate all witnesses,” the grunt growled, their voice low and venomous.

  “Oh, that’s comforting,” I said, ducking as Gastly shot a ball of eerie light over my head, the attack slamming into a shelf and scattering books across the floor.

  “Go left!” Milo shouted, tugging me down another aisle.

  “How do you even know where we’re going?” I panted.

  “I’ve memorized the layout,” he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Restricted areas follow standardized shelving patterns. It’s… obvious.”

  “Sure, obvious,” I muttered, sidestepping another burst of Gastly’s attacks.

  We darted through a series of intersecting shelves, Milo shouting directions as we went. “Right! Duck! Left! Watch the column!”

  “Column?!” I yelped, narrowly avoiding a stone pillar that seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

  Gastly let out another sharp laugh, its glowing eyes narrowing as it surged forward. Milo grabbed a loose book from a nearby shelf and hurled it behind us, knocking the Pokémon off course for a moment.

  “That’s your plan? Throw books at it?” I asked, incredulous.

  “You have a better idea?” he snapped, grabbing another book as we skidded into a side corridor.

  We burst out of the restricted section’s main corridor, the flickering AR barrier coming back into view. Gastly was close behind, its eyes glowing brighter as it prepared another Hypnosis attack.

  “Close your eyes!” Milo shouted, yanking me to the side as the attack narrowly missed us.

  I covered my face with my hands, stumbling forward as the light faded behind me. Milo shoved a rolling cart into Gastly’s path, buying us just enough time to reach the barrier.

  We lunged through it, the distortion rippling around us before snapping back into place.

  Outside the restricted section, I bent over, catching my breath. Milo leaned against the wall, his glasses askew but otherwise intact.

  “That,” he panted, “was the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

  I grinned weakly, holding up my hands. “Trouble is my middle name.”

  “Is it now?” he muttered, straightening his glasses.

  I laughed softly, but my breath caught when I glanced down at my hand. A small, rectangular disk was clenched tightly in my fingers—the same kind the grunt had been loading at the terminal.

  “Where did you get that?” Milo asked, his voice sharp.

  I froze, staring at the disk. My mental projection appeared beside me, her arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face.

  “It fell,” she said simply.

  My mind flashed back to the chase. I hadn’t picked anything up. I’d been running too fast, too focused on not getting caught. But I did remember passing the terminal. I remembered the flash of motion as my projection—a tangible, impossible version of me—snatched the disk and placed it seamlessly in my hand.

  I looked at Milo, swallowing hard. “It’s… complicated.”

  “You think?” Milo shot back, his voice sharp as he tugged at my arm. “We need to figure out what’s on that, and fast.”

  “Wait, buck-a-roo,” I said, planting my feet as he tried to drag me forward. “What about reporting this to someone? You know, like we agreed?”

  Milo froze mid-step, blinking as if the concept of reporting this had completely left his brain. “Right. Reporting. That thing we were going to do.”

  “You forgot, didn’t you?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

  He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with an indignant sniff. “I didn’t forget. I reprioritized.”

  “Sure,” I said, crossing my arms. “Reprioritized. Let’s call it that.”

  He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like I should’ve just gone home, but before I could tease him further, a voice cut through the tension.

  “Is everything alright here?”

  We both jumped, spinning around to face the librarian who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. She was the same one we’d met earlier—a tall, elegant woman with silvery hair tied into a sleek bun. Her deep blue and gold uniform was pristine, the library’s crest gleaming on her lapel.

  Her piercing gray eyes seemed to take in everything at once, lingering on me and Milo for a moment longer than was comfortable.

  “Uh, yeah,” I said quickly, trying to keep my voice casual. “Totally fine. Just… you know, normal library stuff.”

  Milo gave me a sidelong glance like Could you sound more suspicious? but stepped forward anyway. “Actually, we wanted to report something unusual,” he said, his tone more measured.

  The librarian tilted her head slightly. “Unusual, you say?”

  “There was a… disturbance,” Milo said carefully. “In the restricted section.”

  Her eyebrows lifted just a fraction. “A disturbance?”

  “Yes,” Milo continued. “The AR screen was tampered with, and we saw… someone inside. A Pokémon, too. Gastly, we think.”

  Her gaze sharpened, though her expression remained calm. “And you were in the restricted section because…?”

  “Uh—” I started, but Milo jumped in.

  “We noticed the barrier flickering,” he said quickly, “and thought we should check to see if anyone was working on it. That’s when we saw the intruder.”

  The librarian’s lips twitched, though whether it was amusement or suspicion, I couldn’t tell. “I see. And this intruder—did you get a good look at them?”

  “No,” Milo admitted, his tone tight. “They were fully covered. Uniform, mask—everything.”

  “And you’re certain of what you saw?” she asked, her voice smooth but unreadable.

  “Yes,” we both said at the same time.

  The librarian nodded slowly, folding her hands in front of her. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I’ll be sure to notify the proper channels to investigate.”

  “Right,” I said, my skepticism creeping into my voice. “Proper channels. Got it.”

  Her sharp gaze flicked to me for a brief moment before she gestured toward the exit. “You’ve had a long day, I’m sure. Best to leave this matter in the hands of library staff.”

  Before either of us could protest, she stepped aside, her elegant posture making it clear that the conversation was over.

  We stepped out into the cool evening air, the chaos of the restricted section still thrumming in my veins. I slung my bag over my shoulder, glancing at Milo as he adjusted his glasses again.

  “So,” he said, turning to me. “We need to analyze that drive. Tonight.”

  I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Milo, I just ran for my life from a Gastly and a psychotic grunt who wanted to ‘exterminate witnesses.’ I’m going home.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” I said, cutting him off. “Tomorrow. At school. You, me, and the others. We’ll figure it out then.”

  “The others?” Milo looked skeptical. “You’re seriously including Stefano? He’ll spend the whole time trying to impress you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “He’s not that bad.”

  “Please,” Milo scoffed. “He joined our group project and hasn’t contributed a single thing except compliments for you.”

  “Okay, valid,” I admitted. “But still. Group effort, remember?”

  Milo sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine. Tomorrow. But bring the drive.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said with a mock salute.

  “And don’t forget it,” he added, narrowing his eyes.

  I smirked. “Trouble might be my middle name, but forgetful isn’t.”

  He gave me a long-suffering look. “Just go home, Isabelle.”

  “Gladly,” I said, turning on my heel and heading off into the evening.