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.
The residents around were happy to live in this night, it had been a long time since they have had complete silence, years.
Unfortunately, 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.
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 it could, 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 tears dropped from its eyes.
It looked up above the light's source to a shabby old building, the only one open on this night, and read the sign posted above the glass door.
"Archivist's Book Palace"
The store had an ironic name compared to its appearance; it was far from resembling a palace, instead looking like a shack or a small greenhouse, lacking the elegance of a palace.
Looking down, the figure reached for the door and swung the door towards itself, then a small bell sounded from just inside.
Ring! Ring!
The figure entered the store, coming to a small room surrounded by dark wooden shelves full of books.
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. It was like it was abandoned.
However, on the other side of the store, there was a large wooden desk that nearly spanned its width. 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, in the middle of the store, attached by a small pole, a single light bulb hung, 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. Despite this, her face had a frantic expression.
As she entered the store, the air filled with a scent of decaying flowers, real, pungent ones.
She looked around, searching for the man known as 'Archivist,' the owner of the store, 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 an obviously fake bright smile that shone 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 his brown pants that nearly fell past his heels.
He was the owner of the store, the one known as 'Archivist.'
As the young lady caught Riche's eye, she opened her mouth, releasing her soft voice loudly.
"H-he's dead!"
She instantly fell to her knees, burying them in the rough wooden floor as tears rolled onto her blushing face.
Riche was shocked to see her on the floor, but he couldn't stare at her for long, as her melting eyes poked at his heart, so he closed his own for a brief moment.
Another one, dead… I pray that it wasn't him…
Despite the sudden announcement of death, Riche had been used to this happening; it wasn't the first in his store.
He 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.
The book was a ledger he used to keep track of the deaths of the people whom he sent into the different worlds of books.
He brought the ledger to the desk, then reached his hand down and opened it, revealing a name written on the first page; it was his sister's, the first victim to fall to his powers.
Written was:
'Outkast: 1 ; Melia Altinae'
Riche stared at the name for a second. He recalled back to the time it happened. He was stupid, he was oblivious, and even though it happened so long ago, he could still remember his mother's voice as she screamed at him in sadness, realizing she would never see her daughter again.
("Riche, what have you done?! Bring her back!")
He shed a tear, then quickly erased the memory from his mind by flipping through the pages, away from his sister's name.
After a moment, his hand stopped on the next blank page, then he reached into a pocket that sat just on his brown vest, where a small black pen rested, and he grasped the pen.
"Who was it, Ms. Celerins?"
The young lady put her hands on her face and wept quietly into them.
"M-my f-father…"
Riche stared blankly for a brief second, then closed his eyes again, entering his thoughts.
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, and on the blank page, he wrote:
'Outkast: 31 ; Emmeric Celerins.'
'Cause of Death: By the Army's Night.'
Riche lifted the pen from the page, clicking it again as he brought it up. The pen was then placed aside, and he closed the ledger.
He took a deep breath.
"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 a crimson 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.'.
She grabbed the book at its edges and reached it out towards Riche, who looked perplexed.
"Sir Archivist, please bring him back!"
Hearing her request, he just shook his head.
He knew her father couldn't be brought back; Mr. Celerins was already gone. The only thing he could do was to do as he had already done many times before; apologize. He took a deep breath.
"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 may have spoken a little too much, so he bowed, showing his respect towards the young lady.
"Once again, Ms. Celerins, I am truly sorry…"
"d-dad..."
The book slipped from her hands, landing on the wooden flooring below, filling the store with a loud crash. She came back to her feet and quickly ran outside the door, dispersing herself into the darkness of the night.
poor thing.