Silence filled the Hall of Lives.
The black book rested quietly upon the shelf.
Small.
Ordinary.
Motionless.
Yet Feroz could not stop looking at it.
The longer he stared...
the heavier it seemed.
As though the book itself carried a weight far greater than its size.
The older Feroz remained standing between him and the shelf.
Waiting.
Patiently.
The question still lingered in the air.
"If knowing the future could destroy everything..."
" ...would you still choose to see it?"
Feroz finally looked away from the book.
"I don't know."
The older version of himself nodded.
For some reason...
that answer seemed to satisfy him.
"Good."
Feroz frowned.
"Good?"
"I expected you to say yes."
The answer surprised him.
"Why?"
The older Feroz smiled faintly.
"Because curiosity has always been one of your greatest strengths."
Then his smile disappeared.
"And one of your greatest weaknesses."
Neither spoke for several moments.
The endless shelves stretched around them.
Silent.
Watching.
Waiting.
Finally...
Feroz looked back toward the black book.
"What did my father see?"
The older version of himself lowered his eyes.
"He never told anyone."
"Not Haroon?"
"No."
"Not Yusuf?"
"No."
"Not even me?"
The older Feroz smiled sadly.
"Especially not you."
Those words struck harder than expected.
Feroz looked away.
His father had hidden countless things.
Secrets.
Warnings.
Truths.
Yet somehow...
the realization still hurt.
The older Feroz slowly began walking again.
"This way."
Feroz followed.
The black book disappeared behind endless rows of shelves.
Yet he could still feel its presence.
Like a shadow following his thoughts.
After several minutes...
they reached a different section of the Hall.
The shelves here looked older.
Far older.
The books themselves seemed different too.
Many glowed faintly.
Others appeared damaged.
As though time itself had touched them.
Feroz noticed something unusual.
Several shelves were completely empty.
Not a single book remained.
"What happened there?"
The older Feroz stopped.
His expression darkened.
"Those records were erased."
Feroz blinked.
"Erased?"
"Yes."
"How?"
The answer came quietly.
"Their stories ended before they should have."
A cold feeling settled inside Feroz's chest.
He immediately understood.
Not natural deaths.
Not completed lives.
Something else.
Something stolen.
The older Feroz rested one hand against an empty shelf.
"There are forces in this world..."
"...that do not merely kill people."
"They erase possibilities."
The words echoed through the silent Hall.
Feroz immediately thought about the Threshold.
About Vaheen.
About the Tree.
Ancient things.
Dangerous things.
Things that seemed connected by invisible threads.
His thoughts drifted toward Rahim.
The mysterious figure whose name appeared everywhere.
The man everyone feared.
The man everyone awaited.
"What about Rahim?"
The question escaped before he could stop it.
The older Feroz became still.
Very still.
For several moments...
he did not answer.
Then...
he quietly asked,
"What about him?"
Feroz frowned.
"Everyone talks about him."
"Everyone fears him."
"Everyone seems connected to him."
"Who is he really?"
The older Feroz looked away.
Toward the endless shelves.
Toward memories Feroz could not see.
Finally...
he spoke.
"That is not the question you should be asking."
Feroz groaned.
"Again?"
The older version of himself laughed softly.
"It never stops being true."
Feroz folded his arms.
"Then what should I ask?"
The older Feroz looked directly into his eyes.
"Ask why everyone keeps talking about him."
Silence followed.
Feroz considered the answer.
At first...
it sounded meaningless.
Then slowly...
he understood.
People feared Rahim.
People waited for Rahim.
People hunted Rahim.
People protected Rahim.
Everyone reacted to him.
Even when he was absent.
Even when nobody had seen him.
That kind of influence was rare.
Dangerously rare.
The older Feroz continued walking.
"People often search for the person."
"When they should be searching for the reason."
The lesson settled heavily inside Feroz's thoughts.
Another question.
Another piece of a puzzle he could not yet see.
Eventually...
they arrived at a circular chamber hidden among the shelves.
Unlike the rest of the Hall...
this room contained no books.
Only a single stone table.
Nothing else.
Feroz looked around.
"What is this place?"
The older Feroz answered immediately.
"The place your father spent most of his time."
Feroz froze.
His eyes immediately returned to the table.
A strange feeling settled inside him.
For years...
he had chased shadows.
Memories.
Stories.
Fragments.
Now he stood where Qadir himself had stood.
The stone table looked ordinary.
Yet somehow...
it felt sacred.
The older Feroz slowly approached it.
Then placed his hand upon the surface.
Golden light spread across the stone.
Ancient symbols appeared.
Thousands of them.
Moving.
Shifting.
Changing.
Feroz stared in amazement.
"What is it?"
"A map."
"A map of what?"
The older Feroz's expression became serious.
"Everything."
The answer immediately sounded impossible.
Yet something told Feroz he was not exaggerating.
The symbols continued moving.
Crossing.
Connecting.
Separating.
Countless lines formed across the stone.
Some glowed brightly.
Others flickered weakly.
Then...
Feroz saw one symbol suddenly vanish.
A single line disappeared.
Several others changed direction.
The entire map shifted.
His eyes widened.
"It changes."
"Constantly."
The older Feroz nodded.
"Every choice changes something."
"Every life changes something."
Feroz slowly understood.
This was not a map of places.
It was a map of consequences.
Of choices.
Of futures.
And suddenly...
he understood why Qadir had spent so much time here.
Why he had searched endlessly.
Why he had hidden so many truths.
The future was not fixed.
It was moving.
Changing.
Fighting itself.
The older Feroz quietly studied the shifting symbols.
Then he spoke.
"The day your father opened the black book..."
"...he came here immediately afterward."
Feroz's heartbeat quickened.
"What did he do?"
The answer came softly.
"He began searching for a way to save you."
The chamber fell silent.
Feroz stared at the glowing map.
Every symbol continued moving.
Changing.
Living.
His father had not abandoned him.
He had not disappeared because he stopped caring.
Everything he had done afterward...
had been for one purpose.
One goal.
One desperate mission.
Saving his son.
The realization struck harder than any lesson before it.
Then...
suddenly...
one symbol on the map exploded with golden light.
The entire table trembled.
The older Feroz's expression instantly changed.
For the first time since meeting him...
he looked alarmed.
Genuinely alarmed.
Feroz noticed immediately.
"What happened?"
The older Feroz stared at the glowing symbol.
His voice became dangerously quiet.
"That's impossible."
The light grew brighter.
The symbols around it began changing rapidly.
Rearranging themselves.
Rewriting countless paths.
Feroz stepped closer.
"What is it?"
The older Feroz slowly turned toward him.
For the first time...
there was no calmness in his eyes.
Only concern.
Real concern.
Then he whispered three words.
Words that instantly made Feroz's blood run cold.
"Rahim has moved."