Great Realm's Rift
I couldn't help but bite my lip in overwhelming curiosity. I had hoped this book would answer all the questions lingering in my mind. But I was wrong. The glow faded, and the letters turned back into indistinguishable symbols.
"What's happening?" I said aloud. "I couldn't understand any of them."
The book was written in a language that seemed terrestrial yet alien, with circular symbols dominating the pages. The texture of the pages felt ancient and brittle beneath my fingertips, as if they held secrets from eons past.
Unfortunately, only a few drawings were recognizable, reminiscent of the colossal walls I had passed before. I stopped flipping the pages when I came across a different image, drawn in broad strokes of paint.
It depicted demons and other flying creatures engaged in mid-air battle. On the left side, a battalion of little red-skinned demons with various tails fought against beautiful girls dressed in white, angelic dresses that seemed to float in the sky. The scene was chaotic, with swirls of energy and clashes of swords filling the air.
The words "The Great Realm's Rift" blazed above the drawing, written in blood-red letters capitalized and outlined in golden ink. It was the first English text I had encountered in the book. My mind raced with possibilities.
"Could it be that there were other humans who had lived here before me?" I wondered aloud, my voice echoing faintly in the quiet of the library. The thought sent shivers down my spine, as if the very air around me held the whispers of long-forgotten souls.
After flipping through countless pages filled with indecipherable symbols, it took more than a dozen of them before another drawing appeared. This time, it was a woman with long golden hair, depicted in vivid detail. She wore a flowing crimson gown that seemed to sweep along the land, her presence commanding attention amidst the chaos of the surrounding pages.
As I turned the page, another sinister drawing greeted me. It was a vivid anatomy of a demon, rendered in such detail that it seemed almost lifelike. Its eyes appeared to stare directly at me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that it was peering into the depths of my soul. As I gazed upon the image, I could swear I heard the distant sound of crying voices, as if echoing from the deepest abyss of a cavern.
The next drawing depicted a Witch riding on a long broomstick, reminiscent of Alexa but with a different face and hair color. Her expression was twisted into a malevolent grin, and her eyes seemed to gleam with dark intent.
Flipping through the other pages, I came across an image of a king adorned with a tall crown encrusted with precious minerals. However, his visage was that of a grotesque mutant, with twisted features that spoke of corruption and decay.
I shook my head in disbelief. Just days ago, the idea of real witches, demons, and various creatures roaming this world would have seemed like a far-fetched fantasy. Yet, as I turned the pages of the book, I couldn't help but pause at a peculiar drawing. It depicted figures cloaked in black, some turned away while others faced towards me, their faces obscured by ominous dark hoods. They were gathered in what appeared to be a ritual or procession of sorts.
As I scrutinized the drawing, I noticed something peculiar about them. The figure at the center had hands that appeared to belong to some beast. Aside from their long, black nails, they were coated in blood. A dark aura seemed to envelop the scene, and I was astounded by how the drawing managed to convey such an eerie atmosphere with such ordinary strokes.
The figure on the left was equally distinct, with a long shadow looming behind it—a shadow reminiscent of some monstrous creature. The same was true for the others, each accompanied by a unique, menacing shadow. The drawing skillfully conveyed a sense of danger and foreboding, making it difficult to dismiss these beings as mere tales or figments of imagination.
Indeed, the world of Quailsham was the epitome of impossibility's possibilities.
"What are you doing here?"
As the voice sliced through the silence, I instinctively released the book I was holding and spun around to face its source.
There he stood once more, shrouded in shadows and darkness, his features obscured by the soft cloak he wore. The pounding of my heart drowned out any other sound, and I found myself swallowing hard, my mind conjuring wild and cruel images of my imminent departure from this world.
Lost in my thoughts, I failed to notice his approach until his hand rested on my arm. Startled, my eyes widened as I felt that familiar warm electric charge coursing through me, sending shivers down my spine.
His gaze, enigmatic and intense, bore into mine as he inspected the wounds he had inflicted on me earlier. The dim light cast eerie shadows across his face, adding to the mysterious aura that surrounded him.
I felt the urge to step back and wrench myself away from his grip, but I couldn't bring myself to do so when I noticed his hand gripping my arm. It was a terrifying sight. His skin was burned, marred by severe injuries that stretched along its length. The scars seemed to tell a story of untold suffering and pain.
A rough growl escaped from his lips as his eyes underwent a startling transformation. I felt as though I had been doused in cold water as I witnessed the change. His once deep azure eyes swirled and shifted, transforming into two orbs of golden light suspended in the darkness.
In that moment, I was certain that my time had come, and that I would meet my end once and for all.
Frightened and trembling, I took a step back, my mind racing with panic. I wanted to scream, to break down and cry, but my body felt too exhausted to react. Every instinct screamed at me to flee, but I was frozen in place, unable to move as fear gripped me tightly.