the golden inscription

With a trembling hand, Noah reignited the lights. His eyes darted around the room in frantic desperation, his heart pounding against his ribs when he saw the empty space where Noctra had stood just moments ago.

It was as if the void had swallowed her whole, leaving behind only a heavy silence. But that wasn't the most terrifying thing… It was Talia.

Her small body lay motionless on the floor.

He rushed to her, dropping to his knees beside her, his hands shaking as he placed one on her shoulder.

"Talia!" he called out in a choked voice. No response.

Her breathing was faint, her face pale, as if life itself was slipping away from her.

Before he could process what was happening, a voice—a faint whisper, yet resounding in his mind like an echo from another realm—broke the silence.

"Noah..."

He froze. A cold sweat ran down his spine.

There was no one there… yet he had heard it. It was Noctra's voice.

"If you want answers… if you want to save her… meet me at the secret graveyard."

Then, silence. No echo, no trace, as if the words had never existed.

But they did. He had heard them.

His gaze lifted to the shadows flickering on the walls, and a sinking feeling took hold of him—tonight would not be like any other night.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, his mind reeling with questions. He carried Talia to her bed, muttering under his breath:

"What is this graveyard? How do I find it? What are you hiding, Noctra?"

But what haunted him most was that, even now, he still didn't understand what was happening to him.

All he had wanted was an answer about his mother's sudden death. Instead, he was now drowning in a labyrinth of secrets, tangled like the strands of a spider's web.

Back in his room, his eyes landed on the strange red-gilded book he had taken from the library.

Something about it felt different this time.

It wasn't just a book—it was alive, pulsating with an eerie aura that reeked of danger.

Its cover was made of an unfamiliar leather, its texture unsettling, as if it were a piece of frozen shadow trapped in time.

At its center, an ominous crimson eye glowed, its slit pupil reminiscent of a dragon's. It was encased in an ornate golden frame, shaped like twisted crowns or claws grasping at the immense power hidden within.

The book's edges were lined with ancient golden inscriptions—runes beyond easy comprehension, as if they were lost incantations carved into the bones of time itself.

The covers were firmly shut, as though they were restraining something dark slumbering within its pages.

A faint red glow seeped from its seams, making it appear as if the book itself was breathing fire.

Noah tried to open it.

It wouldn't budge.

"Why won't it open?!" he muttered, frustration flaring in his voice as he attempted every method he could think of.

He had opened it easily in the library. Why was it now sealed shut like a stone slab?

He could feel it—the eye at the center watching him, tracking his every move with silent menace.

"This cursed book… it's turned my life upside down, and I don't even know what's inside!"

Noah pondered its mysteries until dawn. Then, he remembered the enigmatic old man who had appeared—and vanished—in the library.

"He's the only one who might help me understand what's happening… or at least tell me how to open this book."

But the biggest question gnawed at his mind:

"Why me? Why did this book choose me? What makes me different?"