Feroz froze.
The golden cracks continued spreading across the darkness.
Light poured through them like rivers breaking through a dam.
Yet his eyes remained fixed on the figure standing among the endless shelves.
The man looked exactly like him.
The same face.
The same eyes.
The same height.
Even the same scar near his left hand.
For a moment...
Feroz genuinely believed he was looking into another mirror.
But something felt different.
Very different.
This version of him looked older.
Not by many years.
Only a few.
Yet those few years carried a weight that was impossible to ignore.
His eyes were calm.
Not because he had found peace.
Because he had seen too much.
The figure slowly stepped forward.
The golden light moved around him.
Ancient books stretched endlessly behind him.
Shelves disappeared beyond sight.
Thousands.
Perhaps millions.
Every shelf carried records.
Names.
Stories.
Lives.
The sight alone was overwhelming.
Feroz took a cautious step forward.
The figure stopped.
Neither of them spoke.
Finally...
Feroz broke the silence.
"Who are you?"
The man smiled faintly.
A tired smile.
One Feroz had seen before.
On his father's face.
On Haroon's face.
On people who carried burdens for too long.
The figure answered quietly.
"I was about to ask you the same thing."
Feroz frowned.
"You look like me."
"So do you."
That answer was not helpful.
And somehow...
it sounded exactly like something Suleiman would say.
The man looked around the endless hall.
Then back at Feroz.
"So."
"You reached this place."
Feroz's eyes narrowed.
"You expected me?"
The figure became silent.
For several moments...
he simply studied Feroz.
Almost as though comparing him to something.
Finally...
he nodded.
"Yes."
The answer sent a chill through Feroz.
"Who are you?"
he repeated.
This time...
the man answered.
"I am who you become."
Silence.
The endless hall seemed to grow quieter.
Feroz stared at him.
Part of him wanted to reject the answer immediately.
Another part...
was not so certain.
The Learning Path had shown stranger things before.
Memories.
Echoes.
Possibilities.
The future itself no longer felt impossible.
"What are you?"
Feroz asked.
"A vision?"
"A memory?"
"An illusion?"
The older version of himself smiled slightly.
"You are asking the wrong question."
Feroz sighed.
"Everyone here says that."
The man actually laughed.
A real laugh.
For a brief moment...
he looked much younger.
Then the laughter faded.
His expression became serious again.
"You want to know if I'm real."
Feroz nodded.
"Yes."
The figure looked around the endless library.
"Does it matter?"
Feroz immediately answered.
"Yes."
"No."
the man replied.
"What matters..."
"...is whether you listen."
The words irritated Feroz.
Not because they were wrong.
Because they sounded correct.
And he hated that.
The older version of himself slowly walked between two shelves.
Motioning for Feroz to follow.
After a moment...
Feroz did.
The shelves towered above them.
Every book looked different.
Some were ancient.
Others appeared brand new.
Some glowed faintly.
Others seemed completely ordinary.
Feroz glanced at one of the titles.
His footsteps slowed.
The book carried a name.
A person's name.
Nothing else.
Just a name.
He looked at another.
And another.
All names.
Thousands of names.
"What is this place?"
The older Feroz looked at the shelves.
"The Hall of Lives."
Feroz stopped walking.
"The Hall of Lives?"
"Every life leaves a record."
"Every choice."
"Every sacrifice."
"Every regret."
The answer reminded him of the glowing memories beneath the Learning Path.
As though everything connected to everything else.
The older Feroz continued walking.
"The people of the hidden world have called this place many names."
"The Archive."
"The Silent Library."
"The Hall Beyond Questions."
"They are all correct."
Feroz stared at the endless shelves.
Then a thought struck him.
His heart immediately accelerated.
"My father's record."
The older Feroz stopped.
Without turning around.
He already knew what Feroz was thinking.
"Yes."
Feroz stepped closer.
"Is it here?"
The figure slowly faced him.
For the first time...
his expression became unreadable.
Dangerously unreadable.
"It is."
Feroz's breath caught.
For years...
everything had led to his father.
Every mystery.
Every secret.
Every unanswered question.
And now...
he was standing inside a place that might finally hold the truth.
His voice became quieter.
"Can I see it?"
The older Feroz remained silent.
Far too long.
Eventually...
he answered.
"Yes."
Hope immediately rose inside Feroz.
Then the man continued.
"But not yet."
The hope disappeared just as quickly.
Feroz groaned.
"Of course."
The older version of himself smiled.
"You sound exactly like me."
"I am you."
"Fair point."
For the first time...
both of them laughed.
The strange moment felt almost normal.
Almost.
Then the older Feroz stopped beside a single shelf.
Unlike the others...
it contained only one book.
A black book.
Nothing was written on its cover.
No title.
No name.
Nothing.
Feroz immediately felt uncomfortable.
The same feeling he had experienced near the Tree.
The same feeling he had felt near Vaheen.
Near the Threshold.
Near things that did not belong.
The older Feroz rested one hand upon the book.
His expression darkened.
"What is that?"
Feroz asked quietly.
The answer came immediately.
"A future."
The words sent a chill through him.
"A future?"
"One of many."
The older Feroz looked directly into his eyes.
"But this is the one your father feared."
Silence.
Complete silence.
Feroz's chest tightened.
His father again.
Always his father.
"What did he see?"
The question escaped before he could stop it.
The older version of himself looked at the black book.
Then at Feroz.
And for the first time...
fear appeared in his eyes.
Real fear.
Not for himself.
For Feroz.
The sight alone was enough to make his stomach sink.
The older Feroz spoke quietly.
"When Qadir reached this place..."
"...he opened that book."
Feroz's heartbeat thundered.
"And?"
The answer came like a whisper.
"And afterward..."
"...he spent the rest of his life trying to prevent what he saw."
The endless hall fell silent.
Feroz slowly looked toward the black book.
It sat motionless upon the shelf.
Small.
Ordinary.
Harmless.
Yet somehow...
it felt more dangerous than the Tree itself.
The older Feroz stepped between him and the shelf.
Almost protectively.
Then he asked a question.
One simple question.
The same kind of question the Learning Path always loved.
"If knowing the future could destroy everything..."
"...would you still choose to see it?"
Feroz stared at the black book.
And for the first time since entering the Hall of Lives...
he did not have an answer.