Gemotions

The quiet hum of the library was like a balm to Elara. She loved the scent of old paper and the hushed whispers of turning pages. She was immersed in a dense tome on ancient languages, tracing the intricate symbols with her fingertip. The world felt contained within the covers of the book, a universe of knowledge and order.

A young man, his hair a riot of unruly curls, approached her table. “Excuse me,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft. He paused, then blurted out, “Do you... do you know about the... the blood?”

Elara looked up, bewildered. Her hand instinctively went to her wrist, where a small, almost invisible scar hinted at a secret she'd long kept.

“The blood?” she repeated, her voice a near whisper. “What about it?”