Ace sat at the wide wooden table in the middle of the library. He dragged the massive tome in front of him, its weight making the table tremble, then opened it slowly. A fine layer of dust rose from the first pages, as if they hadn't been opened in countless years.
The first page bore a faded golden ornament and an ancient frame, inside which was written in clear script:
"The History of Atlantis: From the First Fall to the Age of the Last Kings."
A faint shiver ran through him as he read the words, a strange sense of awe pressing into his chest. It was as though the words weren't merely ink on paper, but a key to a door leading to hidden secrets.
He turned the page slowly, and the introduction began:
"Thousands of years ago, when the seas knew no boundaries, and when mankind was but shadows groping their way through a restless world, Atlantis was born. It was a prosperous kingdom, founded on knowledge and power, joining together the magic of the seas and the wisdom of the earth. But every great beginning carries within it the seeds of its own end…"
Ace stopped at the last sentence, staring at it for a long moment.— Seeds of its end? … What does the writer mean?
He kept reading, his eyes widening with every line:
"Atlantis witnessed a great war called the First Fall, a war that tore apart continents and drowned cities, leaving only the kingdoms that still endure to this very day. And from among the survivors was born the line of kings… the bloodline that still rules until now."
Ace's head snapped up, his heart pounding wildly.— The bloodline…? Does he mean the royal family that lives in this palace?
A chill spread through his limbs. This wasn't just some dull history book—it was a piece of the larger puzzle that had thrown him into this world.
And though part of him wanted to shut the tome and flee from the weight of what he was reading, his curiosity was stronger than his fear. He reached out and turned the next page…
His eyes fell on an ink illustration: the shadow of a man standing atop a high rock, behind him a raging sea and storm-filled skies. Beneath it was a short inscription:
"The child born of the fire of heaven."
Ace froze.— A child? From the fire of heaven?
The words seemed to sway before his eyes as he read the next passage:
"From the womb of war and the ruin of the First Fall, the great seer foretold the coming of a child who belongs to no world, neither this one nor any other. A child with fire in his blood and the curse of the sea in his heart. He shall appear when the kingdoms once again stand at the edge of collapse. And then, the choice will be his: to open the way to salvation… or drag the entire world into a new abyss."
Ace clapped a hand over his mouth without thinking, as if his heart had dropped straight into his stomach.— No… it can't be… Do they mean me?
He tried to convince himself it was only an old myth, a superstition whispered like tales of spirits and ghosts.
But his eyes returned to the drawing… the silhouette of the child atop the rock, the lines around him sketched like flames.
In that moment, Ace heard a faint sound behind him. He flinched as he turned…The library door was opening slowly, footsteps approaching.
Ace shuddered as he looked toward the door, where long shadows stretched across the marble floor and a figure advanced at a measured pace. Not a servant in simple garb, but a man in luxurious clothing, a black cloak embroidered with golden threads shimmering under the lamplight.
The man stopped at the threshold, his eyes glinting with a strange sharpness, as though piercing straight into Ace's heart.— "I didn't expect to find you here, boy."
Ace swallowed hard, instinctively hiding the book behind his back, though its sheer size barely let it disappear.— "Wh–what do you mean? I just… wanted something to read before bed."
The man chuckled briefly, but his laughter was cold, like a slap.— "The History of Atlantis? I don't think that's a bedtime story… nor a book meant for ordinary people."
Ace took a step back, his heartbeat quickening.— "Who exactly are you?"
The man stepped closer, his voice echoing as though it came from the depths of the hall, not his throat:— "Someone who knows you're not from here."
Ace froze. All he could hear was his own ragged breathing and the trembling of the pages between his fingers.
The man moved slowly toward him, his piercing gaze tracking Ace's every motion.— "I see you've been reading this book… No one comes here by chance, do they?"
Ace swallowed again, struggling to sound calm.— "Wh–who are you? And why are you talking to me like this?"
The man smiled faintly, an enigmatic smile that revealed nothing but the depth of his knowledge.— "There are things unseen by most—things only visible to those who know how to look. And you, boy… you look too much. Far more than you should."
Ace shivered slightly, trying to grasp his meaning.— "What do you mean?"
The man slowly shook his head, as if tolling invisible bells only he could hear.— "This world is not what you think it is. Books are not just for reading… but for searching for the truth."— "And the truth…?"
The man was silent for a moment, then spoke in a cold, quiet voice:— "The truth reveals itself only to those worthy of it. As for you… perhaps you are on the verge of discovering it, or perhaps it has not yet been created for you to know."
He bowed slightly, then retreated step by step into the shadows, vanishing as if he had never been there at all, leaving Ace stunned, his heart overflowing with questions.
He glanced around, trying to steady his breath, but one thing was beyond doubt:
That man knew far too much… and perhaps, he knew Ace himself more than Ace was ready to admit.
Ace shoved the chair back nervously, its screech echoing through the silent library.He stared for a moment at the open book, at the lines still dancing before his eyes.
But then he turned away, clenching his fists and muttering angrily:— "Damn you all… illusions and nonsense, nothing but lies."
He stormed out of the library, his footsteps quick.In the corridor he paused, exhaling sharply, but the questions still clung to him—like the book had left a mark inside him he couldn't shake off.
He lifted his gaze to the ornate ceiling of the royal hall and murmured:— "What's happening to me? Hours have passed in this world, and I still understand nothing, no matter how hard I try. Everything… is fog."
Then that face resurfaced in his mind…The man's face. He no longer knew the difference—man or phantom, real or illusion. All that remained clear was the piercing look that had struck a fear he refused to admit even to himself.
— "If I meet you again… I'll break your nose. I swear I will."
But even those words didn't wash away his unease. Because he didn't know if he was speaking of a man of flesh and blood… or a nightmare that had crossed into his reality and now walked beside him in this strange world.
He kept striding through the corridors, anger burning in his chest, his mind swaying between doubt and certainty.Only one thing was clear: this place would not yield its secrets easily. And the more he tried to escape them, the closer he drew to their heart.
And because he hated reading—because every book he touched seemed to be hundreds of pages long—he felt the whole thing was a waste of time.He hadn't come here to drown in words and lines, but to find the truth for himself, with his own eyes, not through old written illusions.
— "Damn this nonsense, I won't stay trapped within these walls any longer."
He decided to leave… for the city.There, far from the palace full of servants and stifling boredom, he might find truer answers. The ordinary people, the streets, the alleys… perhaps that was where the secret of this place lay.
His steps quickened, his heart pounding with a rush he hadn't felt in a long time. The palace was like a gilded prison—shining on the outside but suffocating within. The city, however, was a promise of the unknown. And the unknown always tempted him more than any book.
He smiled faintly to himself and whispered:— "I'll find out for myself… the truth of this world."