#shanic14ofc

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"Maleficent, honey, those are guns."

My eyes widened. "Guns?" I repeated, my voice barely a whisper, the word feeling terribly out of place in this magical, ancient library. Mira, who had been so calm and composed moments before, now had a tight line to their lips as they approached the slumped figure of ‘Professor Milway.’

Ginger's relief evaporated, replaced by a renewed tension. "So, who's Professor Milway?" she asked, her voice hushed.

"Mira Milway, Professor Milway's twin sibling," Mira replied, their voice a low rumble. They were now right beside the professor's desk, their keen black eyes scanning the scene.

Their prosthetic arm, gleaming in the faint light, moved with precision as they lifted the cloth covering what I'd first mistaken for simply more papers. Beneath it lay a collection of broken-down gun parts – disassembled barrels, shattered grips, and twisted firing pins. It was clearly the remnants of the firearms I'd glimpsed earlier, now rendered useless.

"My brother left for the Isle and never returned," Mira's voice was a low rumble, heavy with unspoken history. "No contact or forms of communication, overtime," They paused, their black eyes narrowed towards Ginger, as a complicated mix of emotions swirled within them. "I grew a horse's ass. Before he left, he told me to keep protection with these broken parts and gave me his robe for his memory.” They held the teal robe tightly in their hand, rubbing the fabric with their thumb. "Milo hasn't been here for two and a half years," they stated, their voice barely a whisper, the weight of the years heavy in the air.

Ginger nudged me, her eyes wide as she whispered, "Those legs are made of metal." I followed her gaze, and sure enough, beneath the hem of Professor Milway's robe, peeking out from under the chair, I could clearly see the glint of metallic, articulated joints. They weren't skin or cloth; they were clearly a pair of highly advanced prosthetic legs.

This new detail added another layer to the mystery. Professor Milway wasn't just in a magically induced stasis; he had undergone a significant physical change, or perhaps this was why he left for the Isle in the first place. The implications were chilling. Was this a result of whatever happened to him on the Isle, or a pre-existing condition that only now became apparent? And how did a man with prosthetic legs get into this deeply hidden library, especially if he'd been gone for over two years?

"He didn't have those before," Ginger breathed, her eyes fixed on the metal limbs. "Not that I know of."

Mira, catching our hushed conversation, turned their gaze to their brother's legs. A flicker of surprise, then grim recognition, crossed their features. "Now that's a metal copy that he made of himself before he left and after Ginger's last visit." They looked back at us, their expression resolute despite the growing enigma. "We need to find answers, and fast."

The revelation landed with a dull thud.

Page 18

Ginger froze, her hand still clutching her glowing tail, her eyes wide and darting towards the sound. The earlier flicker of determination had vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated fear. The comfortable hum of the library now seemed to pulse with a menacing undertone.

"Someone's here," I whispered, stating the obvious but needing to give voice to the sudden shift in atmosphere. My gaze instinctively snapped back to the slumped figure of Professor Milway. Was he truly unconscious, or worse? And who, or what, was approaching? The thought of being trapped in this strange, hidden place with an unknown entity sent a fresh wave of adrenaline through me.

"Ginger? Is that you?" The voice was rough, a peculiar blend of feminine and masculine tones, yet strangely memorable.

Ginger perked up, her rigid posture relaxing just a fraction. "Mira?" she whispered, a hint of surprise and relief in her tone.

The footsteps stopped. A figure emerged from behind one of the colossal bookshelves, stepping into the ethereal glow of the central light pillar. It was a person of striking presence, tall and powerfully built, with long, wavy black hair placed in a ponytail and piercing black eyes that seemed to take everything in at once. Their left arm was a gleaming prosthetic, an intricate blend of dark wood. They wore a crisp white shirt under a tailored black waistcoat vest, topped with a stylish sleeveless white tailcoat. Delicate sun and moon earrings adorned their ears.

Their gaze swept across the library, finally landing on our hiding spot. A slow, knowing smile touched their lips. "I thought I heard you, Ginger. It's been too long."

Ginger, no longer hiding, pushed herself to her feet, pulling me up with her. The fear that had gripped her moments before seemed to dissipate at the sight of Mira. "Mira, oh thank god you're here." She gestured towards the slumped figure at the desk. “We need help, it's Professor Millway.”

Mira's gaze sharpened, their smile fading as they took in the scene. They strode purposefully towards the desk, their striking attire a stark contrast to the ancient surroundings.

Page 17

This goes well with Trial and Error, just a part that I'll have to work on.

Ginger studied the map, her path leading six blocks into an older part of Charlotte. She turned left into a narrow alleyway. There, tacked to a nondescript door, was a sign

Only Maleficent can enter this door.

A chill snaked down my spine, fighting against the humid Charlotte air. “Only Maleficent can enter this door,” I muttered the words feeling absurd. “Maleficent? As in, the Disney villain? Are we sure this isn’t some kind of elaborate prank?”

Ginger gave me a look-brow furrowed, head slightly tilted- a clear message that read: Honestly, I don’t even know what to say here. She turned back to the door, her gaze fixed. Without a sound, it swung.

My jaw went slack. The door, moments ago solid and unyielding, now stood ajar, revealing a darkness beyond that seemed to swallow the dim light of the alley. There was no creak of hinges, no scraping of wood against concrete – just a silent, effortless opening. It was as if the door itself had simply… relaxed.

Ginger stepped through without a backwards glance at my stunned face. "After you,” she said, her voice dry, a hint of impatience in her tone.

I hesitated, the hair on my arms prickling. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to question, to demand an explanation for this bizarre display. But then I looked at Ginger, already halfway through the threshold, a silhouette against the impenetrable blackness within. Her determination was a palpable force, pulling me along in its wake. There was no turning back now. Taking a deep breath, I followed her into the unknown, the strange sign “Only Maleficent can enter this door” echoing in my mind, a riddle I was not meant to solve just yet.

The air on the other side was surprisingly cool, almost damp, a stark contrast to the humid Charlotte night. It smelled of old books and something faintly metallic, like ozone after a lightning strike. My eyes struggled to adjust, but as they did, a vast space began to materialize around us.

This wasn’t an alleyway or a typical building. We were in what looked like an enormous, circular library, stretching upwards into an unseen ceiling. Towering shelves, laden with ancient, leather-bound tomes, spiraled like a helix around a central column of what appeared to be swirling, ethereal light. The light pulsed, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the air and casting long, shifting shadows that made the whole place feel alive.

Oddly shaped instruments, some glowing with an inner luminescence, were perched on scattered tables between the shelves. Globes spun slowly on their axes, depicting constellations I didn’t recognize. There was a low hum, a resonant thrum that seemed to vibrate through the very floor beneath our feet-a sound both comforting and deeply unsettling.

(Page 16)