The stars shone above the dark sky, their glowing auroras illuminating the city, where small light posts filled the empty streets with warm, orange light.
Because it was night, there were no sounds of bustling conversations or even annoyances of rolling carriages wobbling constantly against the uneven cobble roads.
It was a peaceful night, one that the residents had hoped for for a long time.
However, the silence came to an end as steps began to echo across the small two-story buildings on either side of the road.
A shadowy figure dashed through the streets in a slow, stumbling pace, running as its heels clicked in the unmoving air.
The figure carried a worried expression on its red face that beamed through a sadness.
As the figure turned a corner on the road, it appeared on the other side, where in the distance, a faint ray of light painted itself on the sidewalk.
The figure slightly quickened its speed, going as fast as its legs could take it, until almost a minute later, the light appeared directly in front of its feet.
It took one more step forward, then stopped inside the light, basking in its luminance as it stood creating droplets of tears on the floor, almost like rain. It looked above the light's source to a shabby old building, the only one open at night, and read the sign that was posted above the glass door that peered inside, displaying the name:
"Archivist's Book Palace"
The store had an ironic name compared to its looks; not at all did the store have the look of a palace; instead, it looked like a shack, a small one used for tools and other gardening equipment.
The figure looked back down, then reached for the glass door of the store, and as it grasped the metal handle and pulled the door towards itself, a small bell sounded from just inside.
Ring! Ring!
The figure entered the store, coming to a depressing room surrounded by dark wooden shelves, each possessing a variety of books of different names and colors.
Around the store, there wasn't much. Each wall was lined with books, and the floor only carried the weight of old tables and chairs destined to give splinters. The place felt abandoned.
However, on the other side of the store, there was a large wooden desk that nearly spanned the width of the store. Compared to the rest of the store, it was well-kept. There was minimal dust, given a few specs here and there, and an olive green cloth in the middle that had a small golden reading lamp atop it.
Just above, attached by a small pole, a single light bulb hung in the center of the store, which shone down, lighting up a young lady wearing an elegant blue dress that spilled onto the creaking floor, which sounded like it would collapse with every weight shift.
Her hair was a golden blonde, more elegant than mineral. She possessed the purest amber eyes a human could ever own; they were more beautiful than anything in the world. By her waist, she held a small book wrapped in a crimson cloth, neatly tied in a small bow like a gift.
Her presence instantly filled the air with scents of decaying flowers, real, pungent ones.
The young lady frantically looked around the store, searching for the man who owned it, until her eyes fixated on the wooden desk, where she heard a man's welcoming voice.
"Back so soon, Ms. Celerins?"
Behind the desk, Riche Altinae, stood tall, wearing a bright smile that shines towards the woman.
His face was very clear and pale, complementing his shiny, slicked-back brown hair that was covered by a silk brown hat. He was fairly tall, but not too tall, just above average height as seen through his thin body that was covered in a brown vest resting over his white shirt, as well as a pair of brown pants that nearly fell past his heels.
Riche was the owner of the store, the one the woman was looking for.
As the young lady caught Riche's eyes, she opened her mouth, releasing her soft voice that crumbled as she tried to form her words loudly.
"H-he's dead!"
She slowly fell to her knees, burying them in the rough wooden floor as tears flowed out of her eyes and onto her blushing face, poking Riche's desolate heart.
Seeing the young lady like this, Riche felt a touch of sympathy in his heart. He couldn't bear to see such sadness in another's eyes, so he closed his own.
Another one, dead…
Riche opened his eyes, then bent down, just below the wooden desk, where on a small shelf full of books, stood a tiny book shadowed in a black cover, with the word 'Archives' spread across the front of it.
It was a ledger he used for the damages he caused. It was to keep track of all the deaths of customers who entered the book, and by then, there had been many already written.
He brought the ledger to the desk, dropping it directly in front, creating a small thud with its abrupt impact.
He reached his hand down, and the ledger opened, showing a name written on a lined page; it was his sisters.
'Outkast: 1 ; Melia Altinae'
Riche stared at the name for a second, then began flipping through the pages that flashed to his eyes different names as the next page showed one after another. Each page only had one name, as if to remind him of his wrongdoings, making it seem like his log of actions meant more than what it showed.
His hand stopped on the next blank page, then he reached into a pocket that sat just on his brown vest, and took out a small black pen between his index finger and thumb.
Riche looked back towards the sobbing young lady, whose face was now shining between her tears and the small light above, then asked:
"Who was it this time, Ms. Celerins?"
The young lady struggled to release words from her slipping cords, stumbling on every say with a loud weep.
"M-my f-father…"
Riche looked at her with a blank expression, then closed his eyes again.
A person so close to you. I feel for you, Ms. Celerins, but there is always a price to such risks of the pen… even I fear them.
He opened his eyes, then veered down towards the ledger, clicking the end of the black pen in his right hand.
The pen's tip touched down on the fragile paper of the book for a few seconds, completing its purpose elegantly, like it was honoring something special.
Written largely on the blank page was:
'Outkast: 31 ; Emmeric Celerins.'
'Cause of Missing: By the Army's Night.'
Riche lifted the pen from the page, clicking it again as he brought it up.
The pen was placed aside, and he closed the ledger as it fulfilled its purpose.
Upon finishing, a brief silence took over for a few seconds before he ended it with a sigh as he glanced back towards the young lady.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Celerins, but I warned both you and your father of the possibilities. Death was of the side effects I told you about."
Ignoring Riche's words, the young lady reached for the cloth that was attached to her hip, opening it to reveal a book with a red cover, embroidered with the nicest of gold pigments, reading;
'By the Army's Night.'
The book that had taken her father's life.
She grabbed the book at its edges and reached it out towards Riche, who suddenly looked perplexed.
"Sir Archivist, please bring him back!"
She wept loudly, begging Riche to bring her dad back, but he knew well that he couldn't.
Mr. Celerins was already gone.
For a moment, Riche closed his eyes again, remembering of the moment he had unknowingly ended his sister's life.
This scene…
It's so similar…
He had remembered his mothers words as she grieved in front him.
("R-Riche, what have you done!? Bring her back!")
He could tell she was in pain; her voice screeched and pierced new levels he had never heard before. She had cried with all she had, just like the young lady in front of him. It was a sight he could never forget.
Riche opened his eyes.
He spoke softly:
"I truly am sorry for your loss, but once someone enters a story, they can only come back once that story is done. Never can they stop before it's finished. Other than so, nothing can bring him back, not even the magic of a Detail could save your father."
Ending his words, he realized he had spoken a little too much, so he bowed, showing his respect towards the young lady.
"Once again, Ms. Celerins, I am truly sorry…"
The young lady began to weep even louder, her tears began flowing faster, and so did the snot from her nose.
"d-dad..."
The book slipped from her hands, landing on the wooden flooring below, filling the store with a loud crash that shadowed her cries.
Poor thing…
She suddenly came back to her feet and quickly turned around, running back towards the entrance, losing herself in the darkness outside as lines of tears followed her.
Riche sighed deeply, lifting himself from his bow.
He slowly approached the left side of the desk, where a small swing door was, then pushed slightly against it. The door quickly swung open, almost hitting the bookshelf against the back wall.
Walking over in front of the desk, he noticed the open book on the ground. He slowly bent down, reaching for it, but had an empty feeling inside of him that hesitated him.
31 deaths so far, I'm not sure if I can keep this going for any longer.
He knew he was the cause of so many endings, and even the man's whose evidence lay in front of him.
They were endings he never witnessed…
Riche returned to standing, holding the book firmly in his hands as he curiously began to flip through the pages.
After a few seconds, he came to a stop, noticing an oddity between the 117th and the 119th page; the page between them was missing.
117 and 119… A page is missing. This must have been the event Mr. Celerins couldn't cross… Page 118…
When it came to Riche's Detail, the ability to transfer people into books, whenever a person failed to complete a book, there would always be a moment where they did. And in that moment, the page that corresponded to it would be removed, displaying the failure of the one who tried to conquer the book to those who opened it.
Confirming his passing through the missing page, Riche slammed the book closed, causing dust to go flying into his nose, prompting him to sneeze.
Achoo!
He sneezed again, then gently set the book down on the wooden desk just to his right.
He stood there for a minute, admiring its elegant golden font that spread across it, with a deep sadness.
This book, it destroyed their family…
No, I can't say that. It wasn't the book that destroyed her family… it was me… all me…
If it wasn't for my Detail, that family would be living happily, not grieving over the death of someone dear because some stupid guy in a hat wanted to live.
Damn you, you stupid Archivist…
Eventually, looking up, Riche stared into the small bulb that looked like it could give out at any second.
Then, he looked back down, circling his small store with his pupils, painting its gloomy atmosphere in his mind.
Look at this place, these old wooden shelves, these old books left and right, nearly every book explored by someone who I didn't choose, they all chose me…
He turned around, facing the emptiness of dusk outside, admiring the two lights that lit the pavement outside his store, leaving the rest of the cobble down the road somber.
Riche slowly leaned back, spreading his elbows across the edge of the desk, still staring through the windows near the entrance. His eyes slowly matched the darkness that persisted around.
I wish I could go back… I wish I could be normal again…
My powers they've changed me. I used to have people in my life, people who cared for me, but I overwhelmed myself with a fear of death… and now, I'm lonely.
I couldn't control myself… I wish I could've…
I abandoned them… I wish I didn't…
I hurt them… I…
He slammed his hand on the desk, causing the small lamp on the desk to fall over.
Out of all the Details in the world, this was my fate… why? Why not something like time, fire, or even food? Controlling food would be so much better than this shitty fate of words…
He couldn't avoid it, even if he tried throwing away his Detail; a worse fate would be brought to him. Simple death.
Though he could have avoided tragedy by only allowing certain books, it wasn't a possibility, the greed of others, for riches, for strength, for power, they couldn't be contained, and if he tried to, business wouldn't be so well, which would leave him with less chances of using Detail, meaning he was more likely going to die.
Taking the book, he headed behind the desk where he got on his toes and put the book on the top shelf of the bookcase behind it, where all the books, completed or not, rested for what would be an eternity of a dusty life.
After coming back down, he turned around and began tapping the desk repeatedly with his fingers, fidgeting as his thoughts deepened. Then, after around three minutes or so, he stopped tapping, then slid his hands to the right side of the desk, where a book lay just at its edge.
He wanted to get the thoughts of the newest death out of his mind, so he thought the book might help him escape as it had done for him in the past.
He grabbed the book by its spine, then brought it close to him and suddenly leaned back to a wooden chair that was placed just behind him.
He looked down at the book.
The cover of the book was deep blue like the ocean. Similar to how the red book has a golden outline, this blue book has a similar silver outline, in the same shape and style. It was pretty thick in terms of content, around a thousand pages or so, bearing the name:
'Why We Wandered'
by The Ruler
A story about two brothers who traveled the world of Lostasis in search of a journey to fulfill their duties to protect the world.
It was a clever little book. Riche liked it a lot. The open world and the newly found freedom one of the characters had, gave him a sense of comfort he couldn't find in his own life. It was something he wanted, he wished he could live free, he wished he could live… there…
But with his saddened life, full of changing others' lives just for the sake of his own, he knew he couldn't break free; the Rule of Detail wouldn't allow him. He just had to accept it. Nothing would ever change…
Riche flipped open the book to where he had left a thin red bookmark. Instantly, he flipped to the 542nd page, a little more than halfway through.
He slowly took the bookmark out and placed it on the desk, letting it glide across the top of the desk almost to the other side, then he exhaled deeply.
Continuing from the last point he left off, he started reading, and as he stopped thinking about his own life, he instantly became glued to the story's words.
[ As Dean stumbled up the hill, he recovered to see an alleyway full of the sun's glistening brightness at the end. It was a beautiful sight to him, but he didn't stare for long. He had to find the man before it fell, or else the day would have been wasted.
With hints from the past Ellis, he knew the man often stared past the cliff and over Kortifall, so instantly he reached his way over to the side where the sun shone brightest, looking for the man.
As he approached the cliff, reaching just past the last houses before the edge, he suddenly spotted a young man to his left, sitting against the back of the last house with a blue book closed across his hands. He only seemed to stare at the cover, like he had no interest in its contents whatsoever.
The man noticed Dean, then quickly covered the title with his hands, as if to hide it from others, but Dean was able to read it, noticing:
'The Chaos That Was'
by The God
Though Dean was able to read it, he paid no mind to it, instead looking at the man's face.
The man smiled at him, then said:
"You must be Dean, you look exactly how Ellis described you."
Dean smiled in return.
"It's nice to meet you."
"Likewise. The name's Archivist, if you haven't heard so already from Ellis." ]
Archivist, huh… Such a coincidence, he has the same nickname as me.
He breathed, then continued reading.
[The Archivist was a very young-looking man, his skin was as clear as can be, not a single wrinkle in sight. His brown hair hung just above his eyebrows on his forehead, the top of it, though, was a bit frizzy, like he had just taken off a hat or run his hand through his hair.]
Riche felt his heart pound, something that seemed out of place in such a time.
The book had nearly described him exactly, even the name by which Riche was constantly known by 'Archivist', was possessed by the character.
That's almost how I look… it even mentions a hat… Is that me?
"Did I read that right? Am I hallucinating or something? I mean, I don't wear my hair like that, but that's how it is when I don't put anything in it."
Riche quickly inserted the bookmark back inside the book, then quickly slammed it shut and opened it. He read the whole part again, but the words were the same; they were actually written in the book.
He was intrigued.
He continued reading, doing so for seconds, then minutes, he couldn't get the book out of his mind. It was like he was peering into a future version of himself.
He began to subconsciously lean back in the chair, causing its front legs to leave the ground and wobble with every rock he made back and forward.
"His powers are like my Detail!"
He just continued and continued, glued to the depth of the words, until his foot accidentally pushed against the desk, causing the chair to fall to the ground, bringing him with it.
As the chair and Riche hit the floor, a loud crash sounded through the store, followed by a small thud from the book that slipped away from Riche's hands.
"Oww! That hurt."
Riche slowly stood up, scratching the back of his head and adjusting his clothes as he did. He turned to where the book lay, and bent down reaching for it, but before he could grasp it, a chime sounded from the front of the store, and he instantly popped after grabbing his hat, appearing above the desk with a greeting smile.
"Welcome… Huh?"
The store was empty, and the door was closed.
He thought he had just heard the sound of the door's bell, but by the sight of nobody, apparently, it wasn't the door.
Dumbfounded, he removed the smile from his face, the one that covered up his emotions and charred a blank expression.
As he stared blankly, confused at the sudden noise, the ring chimed again, but persisted, getting louder and louder with each passing second.
"What is that sound? It's so loud!"
His hands covered his ears, then he tried plugging them with his fingers, trying to get the noise out of his head, but no matter what he did, the noise kept getting louder.
He complained and complained until suddenly, his complaints stopped.
He looked towards the window.
A green light was shining through it, illuminating the inside of the store with its eminence that caught Riche's distracted attention.
He stared for a few seconds, awed, displaced by its brightness, then curiosity quickly hit him, and he ran to the other side of the desk, pushed open the door, and went straight to the window.
Instantly, his eyes veered to the sky, then widened with shock.
A giant slit had appeared in the sky, covering its width. The once night that ruled over the city was a radiating portal of greenness that glowed brighter than any star. The whole city was green; it was like the sun, no, it was even brighter than the sun. It was like a god had suddenly cut the sky.
As Riche stared, subconsciously, his voice let out a shallow utterance.
"what the hell…"
He noticed the slit in the sky was growing, and after seconds, it masked the entire sky, casting shadows that would only be seen during the day.
Riche couldn't take his eyes away; something was propelling them, keeping them in the sky. He tried, but couldn't even blink or twitch them, until after a moment, his body started to weaken, and a few seconds later, his eyes slowly began to close on their own… He had lost control.
A pitch blackness slowly arose, then…
He fell unconscious…
***