The endless white had transformed. Above stretched a vibrant blue sky dotted with soft, rolling clouds that seemed to move with a life of their own. Below, a vast mirror lake shimmered with an ethereal glow, reflecting the heavens as if reality itself had been split in two. The air smelled fresh, tinged with the faint sweetness of possibility.
Lu stood at the edge of this new world, her bare feet lightly touching the cool, glassy surface of the water. She tilted her head back and took a deep breath, savoring the moment. A smile spread across her face, small at first, but growing wider as the realization of what she had done settled in.
Behind her, Al—a massive, floating book with gilded edges and a spine that seemed to pulse faintly like a heartbeat—hovered in silent awe. His pages ruffled slightly, betraying the storm of mixed emotions within him.
"It's a new world now," Lu said softly, turning to face him.
Al froze. For the first time in countless loops, he was at a loss for words. His pages quivered, unable to find the right lines.
Lu giggled, a sound that felt like sunlight piercing through a dense fog. "What's the matter, Al? Cat got your—oh wait, you don't even have a tongue!"
Al snapped out of his daze, his voice booming but tinged with indignation. "I have words, thank you very much. And I'll have you know—"
"Yeah, yeah," Lu interrupted with a playful wave of her hand, "you're an Almanac, you're full of wisdom, and you're probably overthinking this, as usual."
Al's pages fluttered more aggressively now, like a bird ruffling its feathers. "Overthinking?! Do you even realize what you've done? This world—this not-white—it's dangerous! It's unpredictable!"
"Exactly!" Lu grinned mischievously. She crouched down, trailing her fingers across the mirror lake, causing ripples that spread infinitely in all directions. "It's alive. It's fun."
Al sighed, his cover sagging slightly in resignation. "You're impossible."
"And you're predictable," she shot back, standing up and dusting her hands dramatically as if she'd just finished some monumental task. "But hey, I've got an idea."
Al braced himself. "Oh no."
Lu ignored him, her eyes gleaming with inspiration. "How about I make time?"
Al's spine stiffened. "What?"
"You heard me!" Lu clapped her hands, already pacing excitedly. "We've got a world now, right? But what's a world without time? It's like a story with no pages to turn, Al! I mean, even you—especially you—need time to make sense of things!"
"Lu," Al said carefully, "you're talking about something that—if mishandled—could end up... breaking everything. Do you even understand the consequences?"
Lu stopped mid-step, pretending to think hard. Then, with exaggerated flair, she turned to Al, one hand on her hip and the other pointing dramatically at him. "Consequences shmonsequences! What's life without a little risk?"
Before Al could protest further, Lu crouched again, touching the lake's surface with both hands. Her fingers began to glow faintly, the light spreading outward in rhythmic pulses like a heartbeat.
The air around them changed. The clouds above began to drift faster, their shapes morphing and stretching as if drawn by an unseen force. The reflections on the lake twisted and warped, forming intricate spirals and patterns that felt both mesmerizing and slightly ominous.
"Lu! Stop this madness!" Al's voice thundered, his pages flipping frantically, as though searching for some ancient warning.
But Lu was beyond reason. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, her hair flowing as if caught in an invisible wind. She began to laugh—not a childish giggle this time, but a deeper, wilder laugh that echoed across the endless expanse.
And then she said it.
"Za warudo!"
Al froze mid-flutter, his golden lettering dimming. "...What did you just say?"
Lu grinned, standing up and throwing her arms wide. "I'm kidding, Al! I'm not gonna stop time—I'm gonna start it!"
And with that, she brought her hands together in a thunderous clap. The mirror lake beneath them shattered—not into shards, but into thousands of tiny droplets that hung suspended in the air, glittering like stars.
Slowly, they began to move.
Some formed streams, twisting into endless loops. Others spiraled upward, forming shapes that resembled gears and ticking clocks. The entire world seemed to vibrate, pulsing with an energy that felt both new and ancient.
Al watched, dumbstruck, as the droplets coalesced into a massive, ethereal clock that hovered above the lake. Its hands began to move, ticking forward with a steady, deliberate rhythm.
"Ta-da!" Lu said, throwing her hands up like a magician finishing her trick.
Al stared at the clock, then at Lu. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"
Lu shrugged, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Nope. But it's gonna be fun finding out, isn't it?"
Al could only sigh. Somewhere deep within his pages, he could feel the weight of this new creation pressing against the fragile fabric of their world.
But for now, he chose to let it be.
"Just... try not to break anything else," he muttered.
Lu laughed, spinning in circles as the clock above them began to tick faster, each second marking the beginning of something neither of them could yet comprehend.
The towering clock loomed over the mirror lake, its intricate design casting long shadows against the reflective surface. Its structure had a haunting beauty, reminiscent of a gothic cathedral—sharp spires, intricate carvings, and metallic hands ticking with deliberate precision. The clock's presence was commanding, as if it had been part of this world for centuries rather than mere moments.
Lu stood before it, her head tilted, examining it with a critical eye. She tapped her chin thoughtfully, her bare feet making small ripples on the water.
"Hmm..." she muttered. "Something's missing."
Al, still hovering nearby, bristled. His pages flapped open, revealing lines of text scrawled in irritation. "Missing? You've already created time! Do you have any idea how reckless that was? And now you're worried about aesthetics?"
Lu ignored him, stepping closer to the clock. She raised a hand, her fingers tracing the air just above its surface. It was as if the clock existed not only physically but also as a faint, intangible essence that she could feel. Her eyes narrowed, a spark of inspiration lighting up within her.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, a delighted smile spreading across her face.
Al groaned. "What now—"
Before he could finish, red roses began to bloom around the clock, sprouting seemingly out of nowhere. Their vibrant petals unfurled slowly, dripping with dew that shimmered like tears. The roses wrapped themselves around the spires and edges of the clock, weaving into a delicate, melancholic pattern. Some of the vines had sharp thorns that gleamed dangerously in the soft light.
"There," Lu said with satisfaction, stepping back to admire her work. "It looks pretty now."
She reached out, brushing her fingers gently over one of the roses. Her touch was light, almost reverent, as if the flowers were alive. The petals were soft under her fingertips, but when her hand slipped lower, a thorn pricked her skin.
She flinched, pulling her hand back. A tiny bead of crimson appeared on her finger, the first color besides the roses to break the perfection of this new world.
"Lu..." Al's voice was softer this time, his tone cautious.
Lu turned to him, cradling her hand but not wiping away the blood. "What?" she asked, her voice light, almost teasing.
Al's pages fluttered nervously. "You… You do realize that thorns are more than just decoration, don't you?"
She shrugged, her expression unreadable. "Maybe. But isn't that the point?"
Al froze, his golden lettering dimming as he processed her words.
"Look," Lu continued, gesturing toward the roses, "they're beautiful, right? But the thorns—they're part of it. You can't separate the two. If you want to touch something this beautiful, you've got to be ready to bleed a little."
Al was silent. His cover remained closed, his spine stiff, as though he couldn't decide whether to argue or to accept her reasoning.
Lu glanced at the clock again, her gaze softening. She reached out with her uninjured hand, caressing the roses once more, this time carefully avoiding the thorns.
"You know," she said quietly, "I think it's okay if this world isn't perfect. Maybe it's supposed to be a little dangerous, a little unpredictable. That's what makes it real."
Al finally spoke, his voice low and measured. "You're not wrong… but it's still a gamble, Lu. You've created time, roses, thorns... You're shaping a world that could turn against you."
Lu turned back to him, her eyes gleaming with defiance and something deeper—something almost tragic. "Maybe. But isn't that what makes it exciting? Without risks, without flaws, isn't everything just... empty?"
Al sighed, his pages sagging slightly. "I'm starting to think you're more trouble than you're worth."
Lu grinned, wiping the blood from her finger onto her dress, leaving a small, red smear as if it were a badge of honor. "You'd be bored without me, and you know it."
The clock above them ticked steadily, the sound resonating like a heartbeat in the stillness of the world. The roses swayed gently, their vines shifting as though alive, and the droplets of water from the shattered lake began to coalesce around the base of the clock, forming a circular pool.
"Let's see what happens next," Lu said, her voice filled with anticipation.
Al could only watch as she stood there, her hand resting lightly on the clock, ready to push the limits of this fragile, newly-formed reality.
Lu leaned against the towering clock, her mischievous smile widening as she turned to Al. Her hand traced lazy circles on the cold, metallic surface of her creation, the red roses swaying faintly around her like they were caught in a breeze only she could feel.
"You know," she began, her tone light and teasing, "it's really funny. Not too long ago, you were practically shoving me into the unknown, urging me to learn, to figure out what this white world even was." She stepped closer to Al, her eyes gleaming with playful defiance. "And now look at you, Mr. Almanac. So anxious, so jittery. What happened to all that confidence, huh?"
She laughed—a bright, carefree sound that echoed across the mirror lake and up into the endless sky.
Al's cover snapped open, his pages flipping dramatically as he puffed himself up. "Excuse me!" His voice dripped with sass, the golden letters on his spine glowing faintly as if to underline his indignation. "First of all, I wasn't 'shoving' you. I was guiding you, like the wise, omniscient being that I am."
Lu snorted, her grin widening. "Oh sure, 'wise and omniscient.' Is that what you call nagging me to stop staring at clouds and start asking questions about existence? Sounds more like a motivational speaker having a mid-life crisis."
Al sputtered, his pages flapping even harder. "I'll have you know—"
"Uh-huh," Lu cut him off, holding up a hand. "You know what's really funny, Al? You're all about knowledge and learning, but the moment I actually do something, you start freaking out. Hypocrisy much?"
Al's spine stiffened, his golden lettering practically glowing with exasperation. "It's not hypocrisy! It's... it's prudence! There's a difference, Lu! You don't just throw roses and thorns and time into existence without considering the consequences! Creation isn't a game!"
Lu giggled, her eyes twinkling as she leaned closer to him. "Suuure it's not, Al. Whatever you say."
Al's pages froze mid-flap, as if realizing he was being mocked. If he had the ability to sweatdrop, he certainly would have in that moment. Instead, he hovered back slightly, creating a little more distance between them.
"Lu," he said cautiously, his voice quieter now but tinged with a warning, "just... be careful, alright? This world isn't like the white void. The more you create, the more... unstable things might become."
Lu tilted her head, her smile softening but not fading. She regarded him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she took a step back, her hands clasped behind her as she gazed up at the gothic clock, its hands still ticking steadily.
When she looked back at Al, her smile shifted—subtle, almost imperceptible, but enough to make something deep within Al's pages twist uncomfortably. It wasn't the bright, carefree grin she usually wore. It was quieter, sharper, carrying a weight that felt... wrong.
Al's spine tensed, his voice hesitant. "...Lu?"
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she turned back to the clock, her hand lightly brushing one of the roses again, careful to avoid the thorns this time.
"Don't worry, Al," she finally said, her voice calm and almost too sweet. "I'll be careful."
The smile lingered on her lips, and though it didn't change, Al couldn't shake the creeping unease that settled over him. Something about her, about this moment, felt like the calm before a storm.
The clock above them ticked on, its rhythm steady and unrelenting.