Seraphina's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

The pull drags her forward another step. Her wings strain toward the shelves, trembling with the effort of resisting. She can see the spines now, close enough to read — rows of red leather, each one stamped with gold script she doesn't recognize. The wardrobe groans. She grabs the nearest shelf edge and forces herself still. The groaning grows louder, rhythmic now — not wood settling but gears turning somewhere deep inside the walls. The archive is closing. She has seconds, maybe less. Her wings jerk toward a scroll on the middle shelf, tied with a mechanical seal that glows faint blue. She reaches for it, but the shelf pulls back, receding into impossible darkness. The wardrobe doors shudder inward. She lunges, catches the scroll's edge with two fingers, and yanks. The seal breaks with a bright snap. The doors slam shut so hard the floor shakes, and she's thrown backward onto the dusty boards, the scroll clutched against her chest. Silence. The wardrobe stands closed, ordinary wood again, no light bleeding through the cracks. She looks down at what she pulled free — aged parchment covered in diagrams of wings like hers, each one marked with notes in that same gold script. She can't read the words yet, but the drawings are clear enough. Her wings aren't natural. They were built.