In the heart of the Amazon rainforest, trees so vast they swallowed the pale moonlight. Only a few thin rays managed to touch the ground.
A man in formal clothes moved with sharp, alert steps.
Rowan walked slowly, one hand in his pocket. His gaze was soft, pensive, and strangely calm.
His dark hair swayed with the gentle wind, setting the leaves into a rhythmic rustle.
Suddenly, his eyes went wide. He stopped.
An intense sensation bloomed in his chest. A little pain. Dull and quiet. And then it vanished just as quickly as it had come.
He looked up and closed his eyes. Just for a moment. His voice was swallowed by the dark.
"It took too long... I think the time has come now."
His hand rose slowly toward the hidden sky. Unmoving. It looked like a farewell.
His voice dropped softer. "I know she doesn't care... Yet, one last time — I want to say goodbye to her. The pain I feel in my chest is either a sign to continue... or a desire of mine to end everything. Either way, it doesn't matter. I've already decided what I'm going to do."
He opened his eyes.
He felt the presence of something among the trees. Not a threat. A weight. Like the jungle itself was holding its breath.
His ruby eyes moved slowly across the dark canopy.
A whispering sound rose from the leaves. In the dark, nothing was clearly visible.
Then faint moonlight fell on the branches, and he saw them — a group of lyrebirds, sitting and singing in soft, mystic voices.
Together, their song turned the simple act of listening into a moment of profound, unhurried peace.
He stood there, staring.
Among the greenery, his hand brushed the bark of a tree that dwarfed all the others.
At the touch, a thought rose quietly: _It feels like I became part of them._
Unintentionally, a foolish smile crossed his face.
The moment a voice reached him from up ahead, the softness left. Alertness returned, quiet and instant, like it had never left.
"Master Rowan... Are you coming or not?"
"I'm following you," Rowan said, his voice carrying the same quiet calm it always did. "Keep going."
Rowan turned from the lyrebirds and moved deeper into the jungle.
The deeper he walked, the fewer trees there were. Fifty, maybe fewer now. Tall and spaced far apart, their trunks like dark pillars with wide paths between them. It should have felt open. It didn't. His gut told him something was wrong.
He looked up.
Far above, the canopy had spread wide and dense — a solid ceiling of leaves that let nothing through. No stars. Not even a bit of moonlight. Nothing.
Rowan noticed all of it. He always did.
Minutes passed. Long enough to lose count. By then, the last of the pale moonlight at the jungle's edge was gone, leaving the path ahead in complete, absolute dark.
In the dark, his ruby eyes began to glow.
And at the same time, a ghostly screen appeared, floating in the air before him.
`[ Fire — Active ]`
He extended one hand, palm flat and horizontal.
A fireball materialized just above it — small, steady, unhurried. The darkness retreated instantly, revealing a clean path cutting through the jungle ahead.
He hadn't even thought about it. Some things, after a thousand times, stopped requiring thought.
Ahead, a boy lay comfortably against the cave wall, resting on a stone. In his hand, a fireball burned — almost identical to Rowan's, but slightly smaller. Like an echo.
"You're late," the boy said, eyes still fixed on Rowan as he approached.
"I know." Rowan glanced at the flame and laughed. "But more importantly, why is your fireball so small?"
The boy turned sharply to face the cave wall. His ears went red.
He tried to ignore it. But Rowan kept laughing — easy and unbothered — until the words slipped out, barely a mumble:
"...It's not that bad, tho."
Rowan was still smiling when he looked past him.
And saw it.
Hidden behind the trees, swallowed by the jungle until the firelight found it — a cave. Enormous and old. Its entrance was carved like a wound in the earth. Neither natural nor man-made. Strange in a way Rowan could feel more than see.
Rowan stared at it. "Aneouz. Is this the place where you saw the Z-Book?"
Aneouz stood and walked toward the entrance. "Yes, Master Rowan. Inside the cave — I saw a book similar to yours."
He stepped in.
Rowan followed.
The moment he crossed the threshold, shock hit his face.
It was nothing like a cave.
He looked left and right. A destroyed town stretched before him. The sky above was clear — no clouds, no stars.
But it wasn't entirely dark. A silver crescent cut through the velvet black, keeping the whole town from complete darkness.
Rowan took two steps back. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
His eyes searched the dark for Aneouz.
Then a voice came from the far left, soft but loud. "Master, I'm over here."
Rowan saw him — waiting, waving him forward.
Rowan teleported in front of him. His voice was firm but low. "Aneouz... are you sure you saw a book similar to mine here?"
Aneouz hesitated. "Yeah, I saw it. But I don't know if it's the same as yours or just some old book."
Rowan smiled and ruffled Aneouz's hair. "I know. I'm just messing with you."
Aneouz froze.
Then he swatted Rowan's hand away.
"What is your problem?" he said, irritated, and walked ahead.
Rowan paused. Then followed.
They moved through the ruins. Buildings reduced to ash. After a few minutes, they stopped.
The whole place was dead silent.
But the silence in Rowan's heart was deeper. His gut found the danger.
His voice came out quiet. Shaking, just a little.
"Aneouz... is that the city where our people used to live?"
The question hung in the air.
Rowan waited. Aneouz didn't answer.
Instead, Aneouz turned. Slowly.
His eyes flickered. Brown to red. Deep, ominous red.
"So after wandering half of the city," Aneouz laughed, voice breaking,
"now you finally realize it."
From the ruins behind them, a sound.
Pages turning.
Rowan's blood went cold.
His Z-Book didn't stay with him.
It appeared when it was needed.
And vanished back into the void the moment it was done.
Only two people in this world could call it.
Beneath the ash — a book pulsed once.
Red.
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