The silence of morning was dense, but not
oppressive. It felt like a blank page, with edges already stained by what would
be written. The four walked on a road of red stone, crisscrossed by blades of
grass that swayed as if trying to touch something unseen.
Albert walked in front. Not because he
wanted to lead, but because space itself seemed to open around him—as if
reality recognized him as a catalyst.
Kaelya kept her hand on the hilt of her
sword, but her eyes were on the sky.
— That constellation… it wasn't there
yesterday.
Elion nodded.
— It's not on any celestial atlas. It's
new. And not just for us.
The entity, stepping lightly, smiled:
— It's called "The Author of the Lost
Second."
Albert said:
— Because time can't hide what has been
witnessed.
*
In the distance, the hills turned gray, and
the sky slowly lost its blue reflections. They had reached the *denied*
territories—spaces the world had refused, like a manuscript's error.
— Reality isn't complete here, said Albert.
— What does that mean? Kaelya asked.
— That what happens here… is not
acknowledged by the world. But because of that, it can become anything.
*
They descended into a valley where the
trees had no leaves, but their shadows moved as if the wind had memory.
Elion silently posed a question in his
mind, but the entity answered before he could speak:
— No, it's not a dream. Just a space where
the world never knew how to say "no."
*
At the center of the valley, a cabin
appeared and vanished rhythmically. A cycle of unstable existence.
Albert stepped forward and, with a simple
touch, anchored the cabin in reality.
From inside, an old woman with cracked
glasses stepped out, holding a book.
— I dreamed you were coming.
— Why did you dream us? Kaelya asked.
— Because you are the idea that has not yet
been named.
Albert reached for the book.
— What does it contain?
— Stories that were never allowed to begin.
And one that's been writing itself… since you stepped into the stopped clock.
*
He opened the book. The first page was
blank.
The second—one single word:
**"Where?"**
Albert smiled.
— That's the right question.
— And the answer? Elion asked.
Albert closed the book.
— We'll write it.
The old woman slowly closed the cabin door, and Albert held the book in his hand. It wasn't heavy, but it seemed to carry its own weight in meaning. With each step, the letters began to rewrite themselves—not just on the pages, but in the minds of those walking beside him.
— Why is the text changing in real time? Kaelya asked.
The old woman replied from a distance:
— Because you're still in the process of understanding what it means to be.
Elion closed his eyes briefly.
— We are less characters and more questions learning how to walk.
The entity smiled.
— We are phrases beginning before the sentence is complete.
*
The road curved sharply to the left, for no apparent reason. A massive rock formation in the shape of a spiral blocked the straight path. Albert stopped and touched his temple. The earth before him vibrated, and the rock crumbled into giant stone letters, falling into perfect silence.
On the ground, a message remained:
**"Only those who do not ask will be blocked."**
Kaelya ran her hand over one of the letters.
— Is this… alive?
— It's reality learning how to respond, said Albert.
*
Farther ahead, a bridge made of translucent bones connected two hills. From beneath it came whispers. Not articulable words, but emotions. Doubt. Hope. Distrust. Curiosity.
The entity stopped and placed a hand on the railing.
— It's built from questions that were never spoken.
— And is it safe? Elion asked.
— As long as we don't lie to ourselves while crossing.
Albert went first. Under his steps, the bones didn't creak. They rang like bells, each one a question he had accepted within himself.
*
Beyond the bridge rose a massive structure—a towering library that touched the clouds. It wasn't made of stone or wood, but of **ideas**. Every wall seemed composed of pages of thought, in a living architecture.
Kaelya looked up, stunned.
— What is this place?
Albert replied:
— It's the Unformed Memory. The place where the world stores what hasn't been said… but hasn't been forgotten.
*
At the gate, an inscription:
**"Only the one who has been questioned by silence may enter."**
Albert reached out. The gate opened without a sound.
*
Inside, someone awaited them.
A figure fully cloaked in white, with no visible face, but a voice that seemed to come from all lost memories.
— Have you brought your question?
Albert closed his eyes. From the book in his hand, a single phrase rose:
**"Where does the world that was not chosen begin?"**
The figure tilted its head.
— Then… let us begin.
The interior of the library was vast, but not empty. The walls were alive, pulsing with old echoes like the breath of undiscovered time. Each column seemed to tell a different story, in languages unknown even to mages.
Albert stepped forward, followed by the others. The figure in the white cloak walked silently ahead of them.
— My name doesn't matter, the voice said. I am merely an intermediary between what was written… and what wasn't allowed.
— What do you expect us to do? Kaelya asked.
— To read what you haven't lived. And to live what hasn't been written.
*
They reached an immense round hall with shelves rising like vertical waves. In the center, a simple table. On it, a single parchment and an unused quill.
Albert looked around.
— Where are the volumes?
— Every question you carry is a sealed volume, the figure said. And the answer… only writes itself when it is lived.
Elion sat first.
— Then let's begin.
*
The entity approached the parchment and touched one corner with her fingertip. The quill rose on its own and began to write, with ink that wasn't black, but blue, then green, then red—as if the words had their own emotions.
— What's it saying? Kaelya asked.
Albert read aloud:
**"When a question is accepted, it becomes direction. When it is lived, it becomes a path."**
*
Suddenly, the floor around the table turned into a translucent sky. Beneath them, they saw alternate worlds—abandoned realities, scenes that never occurred but could have.
— What are these? Elion asked.
— They are what reality chose to ignore… but did not destroy.
*
One world unfolded beneath their eyes: one in which Albert was never summoned, but the entity was… and had become the absolute master of choice.
Kaelya frowned.
— This… is a possible version?
— It was. But it was never validated by the right question.
The entity looked at her alternate self below, ruling a world with absolute authority and order. Then whispered:
— Choice without understanding… becomes control.
*
Albert placed his hand on the parchment. The quill stopped.
— We've seen enough. We didn't come here to watch. We came to choose what we carry forward.
*
The white figure nodded.
— Then comes the chamber where questions cannot be avoided.
— We're ready, Elion said.
Albert smiled faintly.
— We're not. But we're going anyway.
*
The back door opened on its own.
Beyond it… there was no darkness.
Only **an unspoken question**, waiting to be voiced.
The room beyond the open door had no walls. No ceiling. No floor. And yet, they all felt they had entered *somewhere*.
The air was dense, but not heavy. It vibrated, like an idea not yet spoken. When they walked, they left no trace, but felt each thought was being recorded.
The figure in the white cloak remained at the entrance.
— From here on… only questions will guide you. Not I.
*
Albert stepped first. A circle of light flared beneath him, and a voice—identical to his own—spoke:
— What would you have become if you had been chosen for vengeance, not balance?
Elion flinched. Albert didn't respond immediately. He just stared silently.
— I would have been nothing. Just a reflex of pain. A reaction, not a choice.
The circle vanished.
*
Kaelya stepped forward. Another circle. Another voice. Hers, but younger, angrier.
— If you had saved your father's life… would you still want to save the world?
She closed her eyes, trembling.
— No. I would've chosen personal safety. And maybe lost everything I'm learning now.
*
The entity stepped forward. But the circle wasn't of light—it was pure darkness. A cold, neutral voice asked:
— If you were offered supreme power but stripped of your ability to feel… would you accept?
The entity looked at Albert. Not for help. But for grounding.
— Power without empathy is just manipulation. I would've refused.
Light emerged from the darkness. Circle complete.
*
Elion hesitated. But stepped forward.
His voice—stronger, more arrogant:
— If you could defeat death, but everyone else forgot who you were… would you do it?
He answered without hesitation:
— No. I don't want to be immortal in a world that doesn't remember me. I'd rather be forgotten… alive, but real.
*
The four of them stood in the center once more. It wasn't a test. It was a recognition.
From the invisible floor, a symbol rose: a question written in fire that burned nothing, but melted fear:
**"Who are you when no one is watching?"**
Albert smiled.
— That's the beginning of the world that was never chosen.
And then, for the first time, between them and the questions of the universe… there was no distance.
They had become **the living echo of a reality learning to listen.**
The silence that followed seemed to breathe around them. There were no more questions. But it was precisely the absence of questions that stirred unease. The entity touched her chest, and a spark of light ran down her fingers.
— What is that? Kaelya asked.
— A question that refuses to die. I've carried it in me since I was created.
Albert stopped. His eyes glowed faintly, not with fire… but with reflection.
— Let it speak.
*
The entity closed her eyes.
— If this world doesn't want to be changed… what's the purpose of our existence?
Elion froze.
Kaelya tilted her head, thinking.
Albert replied:
— We don't change the world because it asks. We do it because its silence deserves a reply.
*
From the invisible floor, a door appeared—a round one, inscribed with ancient runes, none repeating.
Albert raised his hand. The door opened, but inside was not a room. It was a landscape.
A white desert, without horizon. No shadow. Only echoes.
*
They stepped in. The air tasted like memory. Beneath their feet, the sand didn't shift, but pulsed, like a heart buried in forgetting.
Kaelya touched the ground with her palm.
— There's nothing here.
Albert corrected her:
— Not yet. But here the heaviest choices will be born.
*
In the distance, a silhouette took shape. It walked toward them. Slowly, but surely.
Elion gripped the hilt of his dagger.
— Who… or what… is coming toward us?
The entity whispered:
— It's not coming. It's been here all along. Waiting since we asked the first question.
*
As the silhouette drew closer, its face was… impossible. It changed features with every blink.
— Who are you? Kaelya asked.
The voice didn't sound. It echoed in their minds:
— I am the Choice that was never made.
Albert nodded.
— Then it's time we meet you.
*
Then, in the sky, a massive ring of light formed. From it fell a rain of signs—not letters, not symbols—but decisions, each carrying the weight of a future.
And in the middle of the desert, for the first time, reality paused… to listen to what would be chosen.
Each step on the white sand seemed to create an invisible musical note. Not ordinary sounds, but vibrations that resonated in the heart—silent chords of a future forming.
The silhouette before them stopped. It didn't speak. It simply extended a hand, palm open. In it rested a clear crystal, pulsing faintly like a star in slumber.
Albert approached and studied it.
— What is this?
The voice of the unspoken being whispered in their minds:
— It is the Question that cannot be phrased. Only lived.
Kaelya furrowed her brows.
— And what do you want from us?
— To carry it. To bring it where choices are afraid to go.
*
Elion stepped forward.
— If we take it, what do we risk?
— Forgetting. Lost truths. Unlived love. But also… a version of yourself that wouldn't have existed otherwise.
*
Albert raised his hand and touched the crystal. At that moment, the entire white valley transformed. The ground twisted into a massive spiral of light and shadow, each branch representing a possible choice.
At the center of the spiral, the crystal dissolved into Albert's skin.
His eyes opened wide… and for a moment, they had no color. They were *all* colors at once.
The entity dropped to her knees.
— What's… happening?
Albert replied with a voice that wasn't his, but not someone else's either:
— The Choice has become consciousness.
*
Kaelya grabbed his hand. The touch wasn't cold, but neither was it human.
— Are you…?
— I am all I could have become. And all I refuse to be.
*
In that moment, the sand scattered, the sky returned to sky, and the unknown realm closed behind them, leaving the four alone—but changed.
Elion looked around:
— Are we back?
Albert, with his normal eyes again, said:
— No. But we brought back a question that will never leave us.
*
In the Palace of Shadows, Queen Ysmena flinched. Far away, in the Inverted Tower, the old philosopher lifted his gaze without knowing why.
And deep within the universe, something—or someone—smiled for the first time in millennia.
Because a forgotten choice… had finally been carried.
The way back had no steps. No direction. It was as if the world itself was absorbing them again, aware that they were no longer the same.
The four reappeared at the edge of the city of Naesyr, but no one saw them. Not because they were invisible—but because, for a moment, they had become concept, not body.
Kaelya sighed.
— We didn't travel through time. Nor space.
Elion added:
— We passed through what had never been accepted. And made it real.
Albert moved his hand through the air. A subtle fracture in the fabric of the world closed, like a wound that would leave no scar.
— It's not about *where* we've been, but *what* we've brought back.
The entity spoke slowly:
— Did you feel it? Nothing is the same anymore.
— The world still is, said Albert. But from now on… it knows it can be something else.
*
In the heart of the city, an old man with a mask of smoke was writing frenetically on a blank page. Then he suddenly stopped, staring into space.
— It's returned. The echo.
— What echo? a student asked.
— The one the world refused… but did not forget.
*
Kaelya walked beside Albert, looking toward the horizon.
— What comes next?
Elion smiled.
— Probably the question no one dares to ask.
Albert replied, almost in a whisper:
— What comes is a world with no more excuses.
*
And with those words, the four stepped once more onto the path. Not fleeing, not chased. Simply present.
And above them, the constellation "The Author of the Lost Second" pulsed gently.
Like a heart… that had learned to beat differently.
When the four left the borders of the invisible desert, it wasn't just the world that felt them differently—but time itself.
As they walked again through the streets of Naesyr, buildings shifted their shadows. Not physically, but intentionally. As if the city recognized that those footsteps no longer belonged to mere people… but to **deciders**.
*
In the Central Square, in front of the Statue of the Faceless Woman, a child looked up at the sky and drew a line in the air.
His mother asked:
— What are you doing, my love?
— Writing a choice. I don't know which one yet.
*
In the northern towers, three mages who didn't believe in destiny all stopped writing at the same time. One of them said:
— Something has been rewritten that was never allowed before.
*
Albert stopped in front of an old fountain, its stones worn smooth by centuries.
— This is where the world was first asked if it could be different, he whispered.
Kaelya stepped closer.
— And what did it answer?
— It didn't. But it was silent… differently.
*
The entity stepped onto the edge of a broken mosaic. She bent down, picked up a shard, and placed it back. No magic. Just choice.
Elion watched her.
— Are we going to change the world piece by piece?
Albert said:
— No. We're going to make the world change... **on its own**.
*
And with that final phrase, all four felt a pressure in their chests—like an old bell ceasing its vibration.
It wasn't the end.
It was a beginning recognized by the world.
*
In the basement of the Library of Time, a blank page began to fill itself:
**"And thus began an era where questions no longer asked for permission."**
Behind them, the white desert had vanished without a trace. It left no dust. No echoes. But in each of their minds remained a sensation: that a choice had been made there—one the Universe would feel for a long time.
In the sky, the constellation "The Author of the Lost Second" pulsed clearer than ever.
Kaelya looked up and said:
— One day, children will study it in academies. And they won't know we witnessed its birth.
— Maybe they don't need to, Albert said. Not all truths require chronicles.
Elion smiled.
— But the world carries them. Even the silent ones.
*
The entity stopped and closed her eyes. This time, not to seek answers… but to offer thanks.
— I feel that time no longer follows us. It waits for us.
— Yes, said Albert. Because we gave it something it never had: the choice to remain silent without running away.
*
At that moment, the wind carried a faint sound. It wasn't a voice. It was a question spoken somewhere far away.
Kaelya felt it in her chest.
— It's time to go.
Albert nodded.
— Chapter 6 begins… with a question that waits for us, not one that seeks us.
And then, without looking back, their steps turned toward the edge of the known.
Where reality was only beginning to learn how to ask.