I let out a soft sigh, glanced at Professor Eclipse, and slowly stood up.
— "It's already night… we should go to the library before it closes."
I stretched my arms lightly.
She rose without hesitation.
— "Yes… we should."
Her voice was calm, almost distant.
We walked together, descending the park's hill.
The city welcomed us in silence.
Streets bathed in twilight.
Lights flickering on one by one, like stars imitating the sky above.
Darkness didn't fall—
it spread.
Softly.
Inevitably.
After a long walk, we finally reached the library.
We stepped inside.
Quiet.
Still.
Ancient.
Shelves stretched endlessly, filled with knowledge that felt heavier than it looked.
Eclipse took a book on geography.
I picked one on history.
— "Professor… do you like geography?" I asked.
— "Why do you ask?"
— "Because of the book you chose."
She glanced at it briefly.
— "I suppose… I want to understand our world better."
— "I don't really know much about geography…"
She stood up slowly.
Then turned toward me.
Her gaze sharpened.
— "Then allow me to enlighten you."
She held the book close.
— "As you know, our planet is called Aethra."
Her voice shifted—
less casual,
more… deliberate.
— "It has a radius of 699,110 kilometers… a circumference of 4,392,640 kilometers… a diameter of 1,398,200 kilometers… and a total surface area of 614.2 billion square kilometers."
I had already rested my head on the table.
Half-asleep.
I turned my face slightly.
— "Professor… we're in a library… and you teach literature, not geography…"
A small stone hit my head.
— "Ow."
I rubbed it.
— "Do not interrupt me while I'm speaking."
— "Alright… sorry."
I laid back down again.
She let out a soft laugh.
— "Is something funny?" I murmured without opening my eyes.
— "Nothing… you just look very cute when you sleep."
— "Thanks… I guess…"
She returned to reading.
I drifted into sleep.
Warm.
Quiet.
A few hours later, I woke up.
I checked the time.
13:00.
A perfect hour to read.
I sighed and stood up.
Eclipse was still reading.
Unmoving.
I wandered through the aisles.
And then—
I found it.
An old book.
Dark brown cover.
Worn.
Fragile.
With a faded golden seal.
Title:
"The Memories of a Witch."
I opened it carefully.
The pages were yellowed—
ancient.
The ink barely survived time.
It wasn't just a book.
It was a diary.
Notes.
Fragments.
Days of a forgotten life.
Mentions of magic.
Of rituals.
Of something older than reason.
As I flipped through the pages…
I found it.
A section written in red ink.
— "The Son of the Angel and the Destroyer…"
I whispered.
Then began reading silently.
He shall be born from the clash of two twilights,
He: an angel who forgot how to pray,
She: a witch who learned how to cry.
His cradle shall be a field of dead stars,
And his first cry…
A note within the symphony of chaos.
He will grow denying the night in his blood,
While shadows whisper:
Your bones were carved from remnants of the sun.
Yet within his left eye, the abyss shall dwell,
And he will see what gods conceal:
Mother, why do you bleed light?
Father, why do your wings smell like funerals?
His love shall be a double-edged blade:
One that kills,
One that redeems.
And it shall pierce the chest of the one
Who, for millennia,
Swore to protect him.
When the moon is stained in red and violet,
He shall raise wings of nightmare…
And understand that true decay
Is choosing to destroy all he loves
To save what he hates within himself.
Then the Tree of Souls shall bloom,
With petals made from his wounds,
And a child of dual eyes shall be born
Without parents
Beneath its crown.
Oh, child of dawn and dusk,
Your destiny is not to fly…
But to burn.
And from your ashes
A new god shall rise,
One who will sing the song
Your mother died trying to write.
I closed the book slowly.
Exhaled.
Deeply.
Something about it felt…
wrong.
Familiar.
— "Professor… we should go. It's getting late. Tomorrow is Sunday, but still…"
I held the book carefully.
— "You're right," she said. "Let's go. I'll take this one… what about you? Just the history book?"
She looked at both books.
Mine.
And the one on the table.
— "No… I'll take this one too."
I raised The Memories of a Witch slightly.
She paused.
Surprised.
— "How interesting…"
We checked them out.
Stepped outside.
And just like that—
she was gone.
Vanished into the darkness.
I stood there for a moment.
Then walked home.
The books felt heavier than they should.
When I arrived, I opened the door—
and suddenly remembered.
— "Moka!"
I rushed upstairs.
Opened my door.
There she was.
Sleeping peacefully.
I smiled faintly.
Gently stroked her head.
— "Sleep."
I left the room.
Sat in the living room.
Opened the books again.
Reading.
Analyzing.
Thinking.
Time passed unnoticed.
Until finally—
01:00 AM.
The words blurred.
My eyes closed.
And I fell asleep on the couch.