The market had fallen silent.
Not because the screams had stopped.
Because everyone had already forgotten why they had screamed.
Kael stood frozen in the middle of the shattered street, his fingers wrapped tightly around the black book hidden beneath his cloak.
"...Character Removed Successfully."
The words refused to disappear.
He looked around desperately.
"The old man... Where did he go?"
People brushed past him with confused expressions.
"What old man?"
"There wasn't anyone there."
Kael grabbed a merchant by the shoulders.
"The man with the gray coat! He was standing right here!"
The merchant frowned.
"You've hit your head."
Kael released him.
His breathing became uneven.
I'm the only one who remembers...
The realization settled over him like cold rain.
That night...
Kael returned to his tiny apartment above the bakery where he rented a single room.
The city outside buzzed with its usual life.
Children laughed.
Dogs barked.
Someone played a flute in the distance.
It felt wrong.
As though the world had quietly repaired a crack no one else had noticed.
He placed the book on the table.
"I know you're listening."
Nothing.
"If you can write..."
He swallowed.
"...can you answer?"
The pages flipped on their own.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Black ink spread across the paper.
Books answer only those who ask the right question.
Kael's pulse quickened.
"So you're alive?"
The ink paused.
Wrong question.
He frowned.
"Who erased that old man?"
The pages remained still.
Then...
Wrong question.
Kael slammed his fist onto the table.
"What do you want from me?"
The room trembled.
Every candle went out.
The book wrote one final sentence.
Run.
A knock echoed from downstairs.
Three slow knocks.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
His landlady called up the stairs.
"Kael! Someone's here to see you."
"I don't know anyone..."
Footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Coming up the stairs.
Kael hid the book beneath his bed.
The footsteps stopped outside his door.
A woman's voice spoke through the wood.
"Open the door."
"I don't know you."
"I know."
"I don't trust strangers."
A small laugh answered.
"You trusted the book."
Kael's blood ran cold.
His hand drifted toward the knife on the table.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Lyra."
Silence.
Then she added...
"And if you don't let me in within ten seconds..."
"...the people coming to kill you will arrive first."
Kael's eyes widened.
"What?"
She began counting.
"Ten."
"Nine."
From the street below...
Heavy boots.
Metal armor.
Voices.
"Search every room!"
"Find the black book!"
Kael stared at the door.
Then at the window.
Then back at the door.
Lyra reached...
"Three."
"Two."
Kael unlocked the door.
A young woman slipped inside without a word, shutting it behind her.
She had silver hair tied into a loose braid, amber eyes that missed nothing, and a satchel overflowing with ancient scrolls.
She looked directly at the bed.
"You hid it under there."
Kael instinctively stepped between her and the bed.
"Who are you really?"
She smiled faintly.
"I'm someone who has already watched you die."
A deafening crash shook the front entrance downstairs.
The hunters had arrived.