From then on, since he found the book, everything changed for him. Though he didn’t know it himself. He was about to be in a lot of trouble. Or so he thought. Franklin always had a keen sense of common sense, and right now it doesn’t seem he was using it well. The book beacon for him to open it. The pages fluttered even more, but Franklin refused to do anything. He felt frozen. The pages now were glowing. 

The sweats never left him. In fact, he felt sticky all over, yet cold. The black book held a looming light over it, yet its look was sleek and sinister. As the night got darker, the air didn't like a warm body. It must have been quite some time since Franklin was in the library. His attention was long forgotten about the shelf in the library that nearly crushed his skull into his favorite desk.

While he took a deep breath to calm himself down and reached for the book, his mind told him something. Once he touched the book, nothing would ever be the same. Pushing that voice away, he shook his head rapidly. He has made his choice.

He touched the book. Gently at first, then, as if the book had a mind of its own, it dropped its weight into Franklin’s hand.

“Beware of those who read, you would find yourself succumbing too late. I tried containing it, but it was too much power,” said the caption scribbled in some red ink. It wasn’t neatly written, but more hurried than anything else. The warning had no effect on Franklin’s curiosity.

It was a handwritten carving on the thick wooden skin of the book. It looked heavy, but it surprisingly got lighter for such a magnificent decoration outside.

Within the book held bloody pages, more handwritten notes, a picture of a girl, and a few finely written spells at the top in another language, hence why Franklin recognize them in the category of spells. He decided that going through them thoroughly would be a good thing. He would start from the first page and then go through it if he gets the chance.

“Where did you come from, book?” Franklin asked, as though the book could speak to him. Feeling silly, he thinks holding on to it might be a good idea, and he might learn something from it too. There were many things he wanted to know from the book, and it seemed the book was alive in its own way. Franklin was sure of it, or so his mind told him.

Going back to the desk where he would usually be, Franklin sat down and leafed through the book once more. There, he noticed a pattern of some sort happening as he leafed through the book. 

There was the picture of the young girl emerging once more. She looked young, and clean, and judging by her clothes, she must have been of royal blood. The bold marks in the handwriting caught his eyes, written in bold red. It said she was missing. The picture didn’t say a name, just a huge reward was given if they ever found her. He wondered briefly what happened to her and if she got to escape or kidnapped as a royal, how did the royal guards allow that to happen? She must have been a smart one. Or gifted, as Prentice would say. Realizing now that he didn't really understand the meaning of the gifted when Prentice used it. He always said it was secretive.

It seemed who this book belonged to had been building research of all kinds, chemistry, potions, spells, and even sacrifices. It was all documented in the book. The person thought the girl might be the key to something because they wanted to find a special being. Though it wasn’t stated, Franklin thought she would be sacrificed as well, so better if she was missing than just tortured to death for her peculiarity. Knowing very well it was true, and the only thing that saved him was his royal status.

Switching once more to the other pages, he realized some jottings at the top of the pages were still readable. Mumbling them to himself, his eyes grew wide, and the thought of how easily his days can be if he just tried one of these spells, it would be so much better for him. It felt so great to have a spell for making his life better, to stand properly, to fix his stance, increase his fighting abilities. There was so much, yet some were unreadable. The person who wrote this always seemed to be in a hurry or just had terrible handwriting.

“Where have you been all my life, you cunning little book?” He said, clenching it to himself.

He continued reading more and writing down now some of the spells he wanted to learn. All the while, shadows began closing in on him without his knowledge. He always felt what you don’t see won’t hurt you, and that was exactly what was happening, sealed on paper as his fingers quickly wrote his spells down excitedly. As many hands have written it before, and will as it comes, Franklin felt excited to practice once more and for the dawn of the new day. His eyes moved away and the smile he widely sported vanished while looking at the girl.

Why was she so stuck in his head? It wasn’t as though girls were scarce in all the lands. Yet his mind and eyes traveled to the picture of her. Tired of looking at her little face and her doe eyes, he turned it over, and written once more in the same red ink was the name LILY. He stopped what he was doing and picked up the tiny piece in his hands, examining the name.

“Lily,” he tested it on his tongue. She had a weird name, he thought at first. Her parents really wanted to make her outstanding and more royal, he thought. Looking at her though with her mischievous eyes, he knew she would not be restrained in the reading room all day long. She also had the face of someone petite, so she probably could fit into small places, he analyzed. Groaning since he was thinking about this way too much and wasting time on a girl, no less. There are more important things at hand, he chided himself. 

Franklin thought if he should put the book back where he found it, but then thought against it. What if someone else finds it, and they don’t put it to good use, or much worse, burns the book? That just left an unpleasant taste in his mouth, and quickly he captured the book in his hands once more. No one was going to get this book, thought Franklin, jotting down spells like crazy in his notebook.

An idea came to him after he turned the fourth page to find it bare of spells, but it did have some bloody drawings and a frightful face on the fifth page. The book looked old, yet it looked preserved. All the images, and pages, looked in good condition, just aged. The pictures were okay to see, too.

Franklin suddenly remembered something terrifying. Prentice would not be happy with him doing this on his own. He is, after all, a trainee in magic and spell learning. It wouldn't make sense to jeopardize anything that would lead him to death or, much worse, bring death to find him. He groaned and touched his neck, which had been aching from studying the book for quite a few hours. He reached for the other books which Prentice gave him to study spells with and looked them through, even though he had done so countless times before.

“This says to open doors, and to place them in different places. I wonder what that means,” Franklin muttered to himself, seeing the translation of the first spell.

“This one says to lock yourself in your mind. Yikes, should probably learn this one better. Where is the antidote?” He scanned the other spells for a similar one to the one his finger was on.

“To know the feeling of losing someone is dangerous. Grief can be used to transform and renew. Be careful what you do with your power,” it said, not a spell but more like a warning or advice from someone else. The handwriting was different, too.

Franklin stood up from his seat all of a sudden. His neck was beginning to ache a little more, and it needs a little exercise. He could see from the windows the patrols changing shifts and the dawn of the day starting to come alive with movement from down below. Franklin could see out of the forest, too. No one goes in there. He can’t say exactly why, but everyone who was in there or who ventured too far didn’t return. Even if someone wanted to, they would have to find a way beyond a gigantic wall plastered from the border of the forest and have been there for years since he knew himself. 

He often read how abundant the forest once was. That was the way it got its name. The Grand Forest. Now it looks repellent and scary. Though Franklin knew that the Grand Forest has the potential to be the beauty it once was, no one dared to risk their lives for the sake of some leaves and trunks. At least, that was how the talk was. Franklin hated all he can about the people of the kingdom. They don’t understand suffering, or poor health, or just sacrifices. He knew them, and he knew more than anyone else would care to admit. He turned away from the forest, not wanting to bright light his feelings for something he wished he could fix.

Not only that, but he remembered once more a time he always found himself in the forest. It was as though it was ushered into him. Sometimes when he sleeps, he feels something drawing him to the forest grounds, and when he wakes, he finds himself covered in dirt and little tree branches in his hair or between his toes.

It got his mother upset, seeing how dirty he was and scared he goes out at nights by himself, but he assures her he had been sleeping, and he didn’t know why he was covered in dirt. All those experiences made him what he is today, and it didn’t change him for the better. If anything, he hated the world more for his misfortunes.

Looking away from the forest and its tragedy that goes with it, and finally looked around him once more, his hand was still on his neck. Suddenly a tiny prick on his neck made him jolt, and with that he felt himself falling.