It had been forty-two years since I was born. I never knew my parents, nor did I understand why they abandoned me at an orphanage. For years, I wondered if it was something I had done—if I was born wrong somehow. Or maybe it was just fate, that cruel, indifferent force, leaving me at the mercy of strangers.
The orphanage wasn't a home; it was survival. Bare walls, cold floors, and an air perpetually tinged with dampness defined my childhood. Hunger was a constant companion, gnawing at our bellies and draining our spirits. The caretakers did their best, but their efforts were never enough. There wasn't enough food, warmth, or love to go around. Every crack in the walls seemed to whisper our collective despair, and every creak of the floorboards echoed our unspoken fears.
Even in such bleakness, I clung to something. If life had stolen my family and comfort, it had granted me a gift in return—a sharp mind. While the other children played, I noticed things. I saw how the caretakers rationed their meager meals, often going hungry themselves to ensure we had something to eat. I watched how the older kids shielded the younger ones during bitter winters, their small bodies forming a wall against the cold.
It didn't take long for me to realize the world wasn't fair. It was a lesson taught by every empty plate, every torn blanket, every tear shed in the dark of night. But instead of bitterness, I felt resolve. I didn't want to just survive—I wanted to change things. No child should feel forgotten. No belly should remain empty. No heart should go unloved.
As I grew older, I understood that change required power. Dreams alone weren't enough. Power was the currency of the world, and I had none. That's when I made a decision that would shape my life: I would become a politician. I would rise to the top, not for personal gain, but to create a world where no child suffered as I had.
It wasn't easy. While the other kids played in the yard, I buried myself in books, devouring everything I could find. When they dreamed of toys and adventures, I dreamed of debates and reforms. Every choice I made was deliberate, every moment devoted to my goal. I studied late into the night, my small hands trembling from exhaustion but my heart resolute. Every book I read, every word I memorized, became a brick in the foundation of my dream.
Years passed in a blur of hard work and sacrifice. I earned scholarships, graduated at the top of my class, and entered politics with a single-minded focus. By the time I turned forty, I had achieved the impossible: I became the president of my country.
But power came with its own battles. The system was riddled with corruption, and those in power cared more about protecting their wealth than helping the people. My reforms to improve orphanages, allocate funds for education, and provide better facilities were met with fierce resistance. I was called naive, idealistic, even dangerous. The opposition was relentless, their words cutting deeper than any blade, but I stood firm. I had faced worse than their ridicule. The world had already taught me its harshest lessons. Change, I knew, was a battle worth fighting.
Tomorrow was meant to be my biggest victory yet. A bill to secure funding for orphanages was up for a vote. If passed, it would transform thousands of lives. It was the culmination of years of effort, every sleepless night, and every drop of sweat poured into my work. But today, an unexpected duty called.
A team of archaeologists had uncovered a mysterious artifact in a remote excavation site. Reports described it as emitting strange energy—something beyond human understanding. My presence was deemed necessary, and though I was reluctant, I agreed to go. The bill would have to wait a few hours longer.
The journey to the site was long and uneventful. The car rumbled over uneven roads, its tires kicking up clouds of dust that hung in the air like ghosts of the past. I stared out the window, lost in thought. The barren landscape rolled by, dotted with withered trees and jagged rocks. I envisioned the children whose lives might improve if the bill passed. I recalled the opposition I'd faced, the sleepless nights spent crafting reforms. Was it all worth it?
Yes. It always would be.
The excavation site was a hive of activity. Machinery groaned as workers moved heaps of dirt and rock. Tents filled with equipment dotted the area, their fabric flapping in the breeze like flags of discovery. The air buzzed with excitement and tension, a palpable energy that seemed to seep into my very bones.
Dr. Mathew, the lead archaeologist, greeted me with a firm handshake. His face, lined with both excitement and exhaustion, betrayed countless sleepless nights.
"Mr. President," he said, his voice tinged with awe. "It's an honor to have you here. The discovery is extraordinary."
"Thank you, Dr. Mathew," I replied. "Congratulations on your findings. I've heard remarkable things."
"Follow me, please," he said, his excitement barely contained. "You have to see this for yourself."
As we approached the secured area, the air grew heavier, almost electric. The noise of the site faded, leaving only an unsettling hum. Workers moved with a sense of reverence, their voices hushed as if afraid to disturb whatever lay within.
Then I saw it.
The artifact rested on a pedestal. It was a book—if it could be called that—glowing faintly with intricate symbols etched across its surface. The symbols pulsed softly, as though alive. The book's cover bore empty slots, as if missing gems or pieces.
"What do you think it is?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Dr. Mathew hesitated. "We don't know. The symbols don't match any known language. The energy it emits is… beyond anything we can measure. We believe it predates all recorded civilizations."
As he spoke, I felt an inexplicable pull. It was as if the book was calling to me, whispering secrets just out of reach. The hum of its energy resonated in my chest, a strange warmth spreading through me. I stepped closer, drawn by a force I couldn't explain.
"Mr. President," Dr. Mathew cautioned, "be careful. We're still studying it."
But I couldn't stop myself. My hand reached out, trembling, to touch the book's surface. It was warm under my fingers, the symbols flaring brighter at my touch. A strange sensation coursed through me, like a thousand voices whispering in unison.
Then it happened.
A gunshot shattered the air. Pain erupted in my chest as the bullet struck. Stumbling backward, I clutched the wound, my vision blurring. Time seemed to slow, the world around me fading into a haze of sound and light.
For a moment, time slowed. Shouts erupted around me as warm blood seeped through my fingers.
So this is how it ends, I thought, an eerie calm washing over me. After everything, I can finally rest.
But as my body collapsed, my blood touched the glowing book. The symbols writhed, their light intensifying until it engulfed the room. The warmth I had felt before became searing heat, the world dissolving into a blaze of white.
And then there was silence.
The journey I thought had ended was only just beginning. Fate, it seemed, had far more in store.