THE WITCH'S REBIRTH

From behind the counter, the librarian watched her.

She had come in quietly, like most students did, no sound except the faint creak of the door and her soft footsteps brushing against the old carpet. But there was something about her movement that caught his attention. It was not random. She wasn't browsing. She walked like someone who already knew exactly where she was going.

He adjusted his glasses and pretended to stack a few returned books, but his eyes stayed on her.

The girl - Una, that was her name, he remembered - stopped in front of the oldest section of the library. Hardly anyone ever went there. Most of the books in that corner hadn't been touched in decades. They were from another time - handwritten, strange, and whispered about by the few who still believed in things beyond the ordinary.

Yet, here she was, running her fingers along the dusty spines as though she could feel them humming beneath her touch. Her head tilted slightly, and then she reached for a thick, worn-out book, the one with the leather binding and the faint, carved sigil on its cover.

The librarian's heart skipped. Not that one...

He opened his mouth to call out, but she had already pulled it down. The old book groaned as it opened, its pages fluttering like wings as if it had been waiting for someone to touch it again.

She sat down at a nearby table, leaned forward, and started to read.

The librarian moved a little closer, pretending to dust one of the nearby shelves. His eyes narrowed as he saw her expression move from curiosity, confusion, and then to something like recognition. She was reading words written in a language long forgotten. He could see it from where he stood - looping symbols, flowing like river marks across the page.

But what startled him most was the way her lips moved. She wasn't just reading, she was understanding.

No one should have been able to read that book. Not unless they were one of them.

A chill crept down his spine. He glanced around, making sure no one else was there. The air around Una seemed to thicken, like the whole room had gone quiet just to listen to her breathe. The lamp above her table flickered.

She didn't notice. Her eyes were glued to the page, tracing the ancient markings.

Every now and then, her lips parted slightly, whispering words that had never been spoken aloud in centuries. Then her eyes darted to the bottom of the page, where the faint name of one of the authors was written. Her voice caught.

Nevera.

The librarian froze. The name sent a sharp sting through his chest. He hadn't heard it in years. Not since...

Suddenly, the room seemed to hum. The faint air shifted, and for a heartbeat, he could have sworn the lamps around them flickered in rhythm with her heartbeat.

He stepped closer, heart pounding. "Miss?" he said softly, trying not to startle her.

But she didn't hear. Her eyes were wide, shining faintly like candlelight catching in glass. The book pulsed faintly beneath her hand, almost alive.

"Miss," he tried again, a little louder, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

The instant his skin touched her, the air snapped.

Una gasped and jerked backwards, her chair scraping harshly against the floor. Her eyes glowed for a second, just a bright and unnatural flicker. The librarian stumbled back, catching his breath.

He knew that light. He had seen it once before - long ago, in the old forests of Carmenta, where witches hid from the world.

"I...I didn't mean to-" Una stammered, closing the book and holding it tightly to her chest.

Her hands were trembling. She didn't understand what had just happened, but something deep inside her told her she needed to leave.

She grabbed her bag, eyes darting to the exit. "I'm sorry," she muttered and hurried toward the door.

The librarian didn't move. He watched as she disappeared through the heavy doors, the sound echoing faintly in the silence that followed.

Only then did he exhale and press his shaking hand to his chest.

"She read it," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "After all these years... someone finally read it."

Una clutched the old, dusty book tightly against her chest as she hurried out of the library. Her heart was beating fast, and she could still feel the flicker in her eyes fading away. She didn't even know what had just happened. One moment, she was reading strange symbols she somehow understood, and the next, the librarian was looking at her like she had grown horns.

As she pushed open the library doors, she almost bumped into someone. The impact made the book slip a little from her hands. When she looked up, her stomach dropped. It was him-the guy from the party.

His eyes went wide like he'd seen a ghost. "Oh my God," he muttered, backing away. "It's you."

Before Una could say anything, he turned and ran off without another word.

Una stood there, frozen for a second, her mind spinning. Then she heard a familiar voice from behind.

"Una! Hey!"

It was Lana, walking out from one of the halls. She was waving at her, smiling, completely unaware of the tension that had just passed.

Una forced a shaky smile. "Hey, Lana. I...I'll call you later, okay?"

"What? Why-"

But Una was already moving fast toward the parking lot. She didn't want to talk. Not now. Not when everything felt so wrong.

She got into her car, threw the book on the passenger seat, and drove off. The whole ride home, her mind kept replaying the images, the glowing symbols, her flickering eyes, the way the librarian stared, and the guy's terrified face. It all felt unreal. Like she was walking through someone else's nightmare.

When she got home, she slammed the car door shut, grabbed the book, and went straight inside. The house was quiet except for the sound of the clock ticking in the living room. She dropped the book on the dining table and stood staring at it. It felt... alive somehow. Like it was calling to her.

She ran a hand through her hair and groaned. "What the hell is happening to me?" she whispered.

A few minutes later, the front door opened. "Una? You're home early," Aunt Reina said, walking in with a grocery bag in each hand. She was smiling at first-until she saw the book.

Everything about her changed. The smile dropped. The bags slipped from her hands and hit the floor with a dull thud.

"Where did you get that?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Una frowned. "What? The book? I got it from the library."

She moved closer, eyes locked on the book like it was poison.

"Why are you acting weird?" Una tried to laugh it off, but it came out shaky.

Reina shook her head, her voice rising. "You shouldn't be reading things like that. Those are dark, dangerous writings. They're not meant for children, certainly not for us. We're Christians, Una. You can't fill your mind with these things. Take it out!"

Una blinked, confused. "It's just a book, Aunt Reina. Relax."

"I said I don't want it in this house!" Reina snapped suddenly. The sharpness in her tone made Una's chest tighten. "Throw it out. Now, Una. I'm serious."

​

Una stared at her aunt, shocked. The frantic fear in Reina's eyes didn't look like worry over sin; it looked like terror over exposure. Aunt Reina knew what this book was.

​

"What the hell, Aunt Reina? It's just a book!"

​

But Reina's eyes were cold now, desperate almost. "Please, Una," she whispered, voice trembling. "Get rid of it. Before it's too late."

​Una didn't know what that meant, but the fear in Reina's voice and the sudden, crushing sense of betrayal scared her. Her hands shook as she picked up the book.

​"Fine," she muttered, her voice breaking slightly.

"I'll take it where it can't hurt you."

​She turned and walked straight toward the front door, the book pressed tight against her chest once again. She wasn't throwing it away. She was leaving.

​

​Una didn't look back at Reina. She didn't need to. In that moment, she knew she wasn't sure if she was taking the book away... or if it was finally leading her exactly where she was meant to go.

She turned and walked out the door, the book pressed tight against her chest once again-only this time, she wasn't sure if she was taking it away... or if it was leading her somewhere.