Finding the Rift (The Traveling Rifts Trilogy: Book One)

Chapter 1 | The Empty Library

Hello, friends! If you've already checked out my profile, then you know I refrain from saying swear words. I would very much appreciate it if you did the same in comments on my story. Also, I'm a Christian, and I don't exactly like it when people say phrases with God in it, such as: "Oh my ___" So if you keep yourself from saying that, too, thanks! Hope you enjoy the story. 

~RobynAster

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    Aris Fallon Waverly flattened her back against the cold, stone wall. Her heart beat rapidly against her chest. Footsteps echoed throughout the hall. In the tiny closet she resided in, darkness obscured her features. She yearned to take a peek through the door and look at the man passing, but she couldn't risk it. Instead, the teenager readied herself for an attack, moving her hand down to grasp the hilt of the sheathed dagger on her leg.

As the footsteps came closer, Aris attempted to still her breathing. In such a little space, where the walls seemed to become closer with every second, it was no small feat. Light danced through a tiny crack in the door's wood, and she kept her sanity by staring at the rotting wood. Eventually, the footsteps receded. Aris sighed in relief, slumping against the wall with closed eyes.

That was way too close. She was only lucky there had been a random closet in the hallway. 

After a few seconds, Aris cracked open the door and looked through. Light poured onto her brown skin, lighting up her green eyes. The torches provided a warm atmosphere, especially in contrast to the dark closet. As quickly and cautiously as she could, Aris stepped out and took a look around.

All clear.

The teenager walked down the hall, hand softly skimming the wall. Just as she had done a million times, Aris ran through her mental checklist of what she currently had: tennis shoes; skinny jeans; a long-sleeved shirt to ward off the cold; a jean jacket; a slim glove on her right hand; the long dagger on her leg; a small quiver of arrows on her other leg; and a bow. Aris also wore a backpack that stored all the necessary gadgets she needed, consisting of a map of the castle, a thin blanket, medical supplies, a flashlight (with extra batteries), strong wire, two water bottles, snacks, and her wallet. Unfortunately, though, she had forgotten to bring hair bands—much to her annoyance. Her hair, which was black with corkscrew curls, fell thickly below her waist, where it thinned out to a small wisp. It usually got in the way of her excursions. But there was no time to get some now. She was in too deep.

Upon reaching the end of the hallway, Aris turned into another one, this one shorter. She again mentally ran through the map in her backpack, having long since memorized its tunnels and passages. As she stood in the west wing, nearly at the very last room of the entire castle, a spark of excitement tingled up her spine. She was so close. Would all her questions be answered here?

Footsteps suddenly echoed through the hall. They were distant, but coming closer.

Aris froze, eyes widening. Gazing around, she searched hurriedly for a hiding place. The hall was empty of any doors, and all the torches made it impossible for any shadow to mask her presence. But there was a turn in the hall up ahead—perhaps there was a door in the other hall.

With that thought in mind, Aris picked up her pace down the hall. She was tempted to make a run for it but resisted; her feet would make too much noise on the ground if she did so. Pausing at the turn, she peered around the corner to make sure the coast was clear but instead spotted a huge man in black leather armor holding a torch and standing in front of a door. 

Stifling a gasp, Aris dove back behind the corner, flattening herself against the wall and squishing her backpack. If that man had so much as glanced at her... She shivered when thinking of the consequences.