Ari couldn't sleep that night. The memory of the book's gaze haunted her in the dark, as if it were breathing with her, syncing to the rhythm of her heartbeat, waiting for another moment of weakness.
She lay in bed staring at the wooden ceiling, but her mind was drowning in the image of the page that read: "Open me... and you shall see the world as you've never seen it before."
It wasn't just ink. Those weren't mere words on a page. She had felt them—as if they had been etched beneath her skin.
She whispered, "I wasn't there by accident, was I?"
The next morning, she returned to the library. Ethan hadn't arrived yet, so she sat in the same corner where he had been the day before. Her hand trembled every time she thought about what she had seen—and the question she hadn't dared to ask herself:
What did I do in my life to be chosen?
When Ethan entered, he wasn't surprised to see her. He sat quietly beside her and said, "Did you sleep at all?"
She answered softly, "I feel like something inside me has changed."
He looked at her for a long moment, then opened a small notebook and pulled out a torn piece of paper.
"Read this," he said.
The note was written in shaky handwriting: "The book does not seek the pure. It calls those who know darkness... and have lived it."
She looked up at him, astonished.
"Where did you find this?"
He replied, "In one of the texts I translated. The same line appeared in three different languages."
He paused, then added, "Ari, is there something inside you that you can't forgive?"
She gasped. His question wasn't an accusation—it was an admission.
She closed her eyes. A memory surfaced: one night, one decision, one scream that went unheard.
"Maybe," she said.
Ethan was silent for a while, then said quietly, "Everyone who ever opened the book carried a sin. Some lost it, some denied it. But no one escaped it."
Ari opened her mouth to ask another question—but the ground trembled.
The table shook, and books tumbled from the shelves.
They ran outside, only to see a thin crack of light tearing through the sky—as if the air itself had split open.
Ari whispered, "What is that?"
Ethan, with fear in his eyes, said, "A crack in reality. The first sign. The book has begun."
Then, in a voice barely audible, he added: "Ari… from now on, you won't be the only one who sees."
.