The man looked up."Oh, hello Jackson. You're here sooner than I thought," he said in a surprised yet calm voice.
I froze for a moment, staring at the man in front of me like he had just read my mind.
He was tall—definitely over six feet—and had tanned skin with a kind-looking face that made him feel more like a grandfather than some mysterious afterlife guide. His old-looking glasses sat low on his nose, and his long brown hair was neatly tied back into a braid. But the strangest part by far was his amethyst-colored eyes. They practically glowed under the warm lights of the library.
He was wearing clothes that looked like they came straight out of a fantasy novel—a mix between a scholar and an old-time librarian. A long coat with silver threading, a dark vest with small symbols I didn't recognize, and pants tucked into tall boots.
His voice had a kind of warmth to it. Calm but firm, like someone who'd seen way too much to be surprised by anything anymore.
"Hi... um," I stammered, still trying to make sense of where I was. "Where exactly am I? And who are you? Are you... God?"
The man actually laughed at that, a hearty chuckle like I'd just told him a good joke.
"Haha, no, no, nothing like that. Before I answer your questions, why don't we head somewhere more comfortable?" he said, adjusting his glasses. "Standing around in the aisles isn't exactly the best way to have a long conversation."
"Um... sure, but can I at least get your name first?" I asked, still a little cautious.
"Ah, right! Of course. You can call me Brakos," he replied with a pleasant smile. "Now come along, I know just the place."
He turned and started walking, clearly expecting me to follow. I did, trying to keep up while glancing around the infinite maze of bookshelves.
There were no signs, no map, nothing to help navigate, but Brakos walked like he'd lived here for centuries. He didn't even glance at the shelves or hesitate at the intersections. Just straight paths and confident turns, like this entire place was etched into his mind.
Eventually, we reached an open space that looked completely out of place in the endless maze of shelves.
It was... cozy.
Right in the middle of the aisle was a small sitting area—two leather armchairs facing a wooden fireplace, complete with a warm fire crackling inside. There was no chimney, and somehow, no smoke either, despite the logs burning steadily. A wool rug rested beneath the chairs, and between them sat a small wooden coffee table. On it was a pitcher of cold water with a few glasses, and a plate of pastries that looked like they'd been set out only moments ago.
I blinked at the surreal sight. "What the...?"
"It's strange, I know," Brakos said, motioning to one of the chairs. "But this space was made for comfort, not logic. Go ahead and take a seat. We have much to discuss, Jackson."
Still trying to wrap my head around everything, I sat down slowly. The chair was soft, well-worn, and surprisingly warm. I sank into it, glancing around again like I expected it all to vanish the second I got comfortable.
Brakos settled into the opposite chair and adjusted his coat before picking up one of the pastries. He took a bite and gave a satisfied hum.
"Now, to answer your question—no, I am not God, nor am I a servant of any god," he said with a small bow of his head. "I am what is known as a Primordial Spirit. Specifically, the Spirit of Time, Stories, and Knowledge. But, as I said before, you may just call me Brakos."
I stared at him, stunned."Primordial Spirit of what now?"
Brakos chuckled again, clearly amused."Time, Stories, and Knowledge. I know it's a lot, but bear with me. I promise it'll all make more sense with time. One question at a time, if you please."
He leaned back slightly and continued."As for where you are… well, this place has gone by many names over the millennia. Some have called it the Akashic Records. Others call it the Nexus, the Collective Consciousness, the Crossroads, the Castle of Dreams… but I prefer to call it simply The Library."
I took a slow breath and looked around again at the towering, infinite bookshelves. "Okay, so… this Library—it's… what? A library that contains everything?"
Brakos nodded with a warm smile, clearly happy I was catching on.
"Indeed. This Library contains all knowledge across existence. Not just from your world, but from every world. Every person's story, every written work, every spell, every event that has ever occurred or could occur—it's all recorded here.
From how to slay a god to how to become one. From how to bake a perfect pie using garbage to how to win a galactic war with a sneeze. And yes—how to finally pass that impossible math test you never studied for."
I blinked. "Okay, so… this place is infinite, filled with all knowledge ever… and you're saying you are this library?"
Brakos nodded again, this time with a bit more seriousness in his eyes."In a sense, yes. The Library is a part of me, and I am a part of it. It exists because I exist. Though I walk through its halls in this form, its true nature is far greater than just this physical space."
I leaned back and exhaled, trying to process all of that. "This is… a lot. Like, a lot a lot."
Brakos just sipped some water and smiled kindly."I understand. It's not every day someone dies and finds themselves in a place like this."
I flinched slightly at the word 'dies,' but I didn't say anything.
"And just to clarify," he added, noticing my reaction. "This Library isn't heaven, or hell, or purgatory. It is something… different. A crossroads, if you will. A place where souls like yours occasionally arrive—those who are on the verge of something greater."
I looked down at my hands, which still felt strangely warm and real. Not ghostly. Not dead."And… why am I here, exactly?"
Brakos leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "That, Jackson, is something we'll talk about very soon."
He smiled, but his eyes gleamed with something deeper—curiosity, maybe even hope."For now, just know that your story… is far from over."