The door creaked as it swung open, revealing a broken world swallowed by time.
Inside the house, dust hung thick in the air, sparkling in the soft golden light that slipped through shattered windows. Broken furniture lay scattered across the floor, half-buried in roots and rubble.
Akian stepped inside slowly, his footsteps crunching on old glass and forgotten wood.
"This place doesn't look like anything from the island," he whispered.
Jurin stayed close behind, glancing nervously at every corner.
"We shouldn't be here. If the Watchers catch us—"
"They won't," Akian cut in, his voice calm. "They don't come this far out."
He moved toward a collapsed shelf near the back of the room. Something under the debris caught his eye — a dark shape, rectangular, thick.
He reached down, brushing away the dirt and roots.
A book.
Bound in blackened leather, scarred and scorched, as if it had survived long time . It had no title, no writing on the cover — But some symbol which are not known to him.
Akian stared at it, drawn to it in a way he couldn't explain.
"That thing looks cursed," Jurin muttered. "Leave it, let's go."
But Akian didn't move.
He picked up the book, holding it carefully in both hands. It was heavier than it looked. Cold, even in the warm island air.
He didn't open it.
Not yet.
"We should go," Akian said.
Jurin looked at him in disbelief.
"You're taking it with you?!"
Akian gave a small nod, slipping the book inside his cloak.
They left the house as quietly as they had entered, vanishing into the mist before the sun dipped too low.
Elsewhere , the great bell of the Holy Tower rang, deep and slow. Across the floating city, lights flickered on. Priests in white robes walked the streets, their heads bowed low.
The Holy Order, unseen but ever-present, watched everything.
They ruled not with armies, but with fear.
Their word was law. Their silence, even worse.
No one questioned the Order.
Not openly.
Not if they wanted to live.
---
Back in Akian's home, the golden light was fading.
Akian sat at his desk, the book lying in front of him now.
He hadn't opened it.
He wasn't even sure he wanted to.
But something deep inside him whispered that this book didn't come from Vayron Rafael. It wasn't written by the Holy Order. It didn't belong here.
It was from somewhere else.
From below maybe .
A knock came at his door.
"Akian… are you in there?"
A woman's voice. Calm. Warm. Familiar.
Akian quickly pulled the book into a drawer and stood up.
"Yeah. I'm here."
Her shadow lingered in the hallway, just beyond the light.
"Don't stay up too late. It's almost prayer hour."
"I won't."
She left without another word.
Akian sat back down and stared at the closed drawer.
He didn't know what this book was.
But somehow, he felt it had been waiting… just for him.
To be continued...