The steady tick of the wall clock echoed in the silence of the library. Midnight.
Nick rubbed his tired eyes, the glow of the monitor blurring into a white haze. Dozens of tabs, half-finished drafts, and abandoned outlines stared back at him like corpses of stories that never lived.
Before him sat the final volume. A blinking cursor. A battlefield of words yet unwritten.
It had been a year since he put the saga on hold.
Once, he was a rising star in MMA until an accident at twenty-one shattered his left hand and his future with it.
Out of boredom, he bought a small library, intending only to pass the time. But among the shelves, a new obsession was born: writing.
And so, for years, he poured everything into one story: The Eternal Saga. A sprawling epic of gods and heroes, of blood and sacrifice. A world that consumed him more than reality ever did.
Yet tonight, as his fingers hovered over the keyboard, he froze.
"What's the point?" he whispered to the empty room. "Even I don't know how to end this anymore."
The silence pressed in. The clock stopped ticking. Even the world outside felt as though it had gone still, leaving only the faint hum of the computer.
With a sigh, Nick closed the document.
And then a notification window slid across his screen.
[New Comment on The Eternal Saga]
Nick frowned. Curious, he clicked.
---
Reader of Fate: "Was this dropped? A pity… wasted potential. Hey author, would you mind if I finish this?"
---
A humorless chuckle slipped from his lips as soon as he saw the name of the commentator.
"Finish it? Sure. Be my guest. Do a better job than me, if you can."
His fingers typed almost on instinct.
---
Author: "Sure."
---
Nick blinked, uneasy, but dismissed it. He shut the laptop, stretched, and collapsed into the mini-bed.
He had his own personal room in the library. Since this is the first time he slept late at night and driving when feeling sleepy is a huge hassle.
Sleep took him faster than it ever had.
...
Nick felt strange as he opened his eyes.
He was standing in a vast library. No… calling it a library felt wrong. This place was endless. Shelves of gold rose higher than mountains, stretching farther than horizons.
Books floated freely in the air like stars, each one glowing faintly, like they were alive.
From the sky above, streams of sky-blue water poured down in thin ribbons, like waterfalls painted onto air itself. Yet as they fell into the pools below, they vanished without a ripple.
An endless silver plane. Golden shelves. A silence so heavy it pressed on his chest.
Nick swallowed. His mind latched onto the only explanation that made sense.
"This is… a freaking dream."
Otherwise, nothing about this place could exist.
To test the thought, he stared at one of the falling streams of water. Just as he suspected, it disappeared into the pool below without a sound, like it was never there.
His lips curled. "Yep. Definitely a dream."
But then his eyes caught something strange.
Floating feathers in white, glowing faintly with light. They drifted slowly above the water pool, circling a single object.
A book.
Unlike the others, this one did not float lazily. It hovered. Half-open. Pages are burning with golden flames that do not consume the book.
The sight stopped Nick in his tracks. His breath caught in his throat.
The feathers glowed brighter, as though guarding it. The flames flickered without heat. It was mythical, divine, impossible, and yet, here it was.
Nick stepped closer despite himself, drawn as though invisible strings were pulling him in.
But just as he was about to step into the pool, something cold brushed his shoulder.
Nick jerked violently, a raw yelp tearing from his throat. The sound echoed through the vast library, bouncing between endless shelves.
Heart pounding, he spun around.
A man stood there.
Draped in a black cloak that swallowed light itself, his face was hidden in shadow. Only a pair of purple eyes shone through, like they were reading his very soul itself.
Nick froze under that gaze.
When the man finally spoke, his voice was calm, measured, and yet carried a strange resonance, like the words weren't spoken but carved directly into Nick's mind.
"Never did I foresee this day… when one so harmonious with the endless pages of the stars would step into this place."
Nick didn't understand the words. And yet, somehow, every syllable was etched into him, impossible to forget.
The cloaked man placed a hand over his chest and bowed slightly.
"I welcome you to the Celestial Library. I am the Attendant of Secrets. Some… call me the Reader of Fate."
Nick blinked. Then sighed, shoulders sagging.
"…Seriously?" he muttered. "Out of all names, it had to be Reader of Fate? The same guy who left that comment on my novel?"
He rubbed his temple, muttering under his breath.
"Yep. Definitely a dream. Guess I got my hopes up for nothing."
The Attendant smiled under the shadow of his cloak but said nothing.
Silence stretched before he finally spoke.
"I summoned you to this expanse to talk about your novel, since I gained your approval."
Nick let out a short laugh.
"Fine. I'll play along, Mr. Reader of Fate. What do you wanna talk about?"
The cloaked man's voice was steady, earnest.
"I may have gained your approval, but there is no contract between us. All I need… is your signature."
Nick shrugged. "Sure, where do I sign?"
Without another word, the Attendant stepped into the pool. The moment his foot touched the surface, the liquid parted, dividing like glass and leaving a glowing path.
Nick's eyes widened. "...Okay, that's actually cool."
He followed, treading carefully along the mirrored trail. The air shimmered around them.
"Seriously though," Nick muttered, unable to resist, "how does water just… do that? Weirdest dream I've had in years."
"Incorrect," the Reader replied, his voice echoing faintly.
"The chasm between one's dream and another's reality is a bridge you have yet to cross. But when you do, you will know how terrifying the Archives truly are."
Nick frowned. "...Right. Whatever you say, man."
The cloaked figure stopped at last before the burning book. Its golden flames gave off no heat, only a sacred light.
"Also, that is not water," he continued. "It is celestial ink."
Nick sighed, half-annoyed, half-excited. "Is that so?"
The Attendant extended a radiant feather toward him. "Dip this into the ink, and write your name in the Book."
Nick pinched the feather between two fingers and crouched. He lowered it into the glowing liquid, ripples of blue light spreading with his touch.
Then he approached the blazing book.
'I've heard people don't feel pain in dreams,' he thought, reaching for the fire. 'Let's test that.'
His hand passed through the flames. No pain. No heat.
'Figures'
He pressed the feather to the silver page. The ink flowed sky-blue, strokes shimmering with every curve of his handwriting.
As the letters formed, unknown to him, his body also started changing.
Black hair bled into snowy white. His eyes shifted, violet streaked with hints of gold.
His simple T-shirt and loose pants unraveled into a black high-collared coat trimmed with silver, paired with fitted dark trousers.
Even his left arm, which was ruined long ago, healed and strengthened.
By the time the final letter was written, Nick no longer looked like himself. He stared at the page.
[Illustration, open paragraph comment]
Nicolas Frey.
That's his real name. A name that he doesn't remember when the last time he wrote. A name buried by years of casual nicknames and a life lived as simply "Nick."
The book shuddered. Pages flipped violently.
Nick exhaled, brushing the feather aside. "Well. I'm done here."
He turned to face the Reader, only to see the Attendant dissolving into fragments of silver light, scattering like dust across the endless shelves.
Nick froze. "...What?"
A whisper lingered as the last pieces vanished.
"From this moment… You are the Keeper of all that was, is, and will be."
He caught his reflection in the shimmering pool. White hair. Violet-gold eyes. A stranger stared back.
Before he understood anything, his vision blurred.
When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer on earth; he had stepped into the mess he himself once created.