The library was always quiet in the evenings, a sanctuary for those who wanted to escape the noise of the world. For Mishan, it was more than that—it was an escape from monotony. The weight of exams, family expectations, and the endless cycle of routine bore down on him. Here, amidst the towering shelves and the smell of aging paper, he found a sense of calm.
He had come to finish an essay, but his thoughts were scattered. The quiet ticking of the clock above him grew louder in his mind. He stared blankly at the page, his pen hovering over the notebook, refusing to move.
"Why does it always feel like something's missing?" he muttered under his breath, shutting his book with a sigh.
His gaze wandered across the library. Rows of neatly arranged shelves stretched before him, but his attention lingered on the far corner. It was the darkest part of the library, where the fluorescent lights seemed to dim, as if reluctant to illuminate that space. Few people ever ventured there.
He felt a pull, an inexplicable urge to explore. He hesitated for a moment, but curiosity won. Rising from his chair, Mishan made his way across the room, his footsteps muffled on the carpeted floor.
As he neared the corner, the air seemed to grow colder. The faint smell of old wood and decaying paper filled his nostrils. The shelves here were unlike the ones he usually browsed. These were older, warped with age, and covered in layers of dust. The books on them were ancient, their spines cracked and their titles faded.
His fingers traced the spines of the books, pausing at one that felt out of place. It was thicker than the rest, bound in dark leather with no title. An emblem was etched into its surface—a jagged circle with lines radiating outward, like a shattered sun.
Mishan's brow furrowed. Something about the book called to him, like a whisper in the back of his mind. Without thinking, he pulled it from the shelf.
A puff of dust rose into the air, making him cough. As he opened the book, its old hinges creaked loudly. The pages were filled with strange symbols and intricate illustrations—maps of places he'd never seen, creatures with too many eyes, and sprawling towers that pierced the sky. The ink shimmered faintly under the dim light, as though it had been written recently.
"What is this?" he murmured, flipping through the pages.
Near the back of the book, he found a single page written in plain text—a language he could understand. The words seemed to leap off the page:
"To the one who reads this, you have been chosen. The world of shadows awaits, but beware: once you cross the veil, there is no return."
A chill ran down his spine. He looked around the library, half-expecting someone to appear and explain the book's cryptic message. But the library was empty, as quiet as ever.
The lights above him flickered suddenly. The shadows in the corner of the room deepened, stretching across the floor like living things.
"Mishan..."
He froze. The voice was faint, barely audible, but it was there. Someone—or something—had spoken his name.
"Hello?" he called out, his voice shaky.
No one responded. The shadows flickered again, and for a moment, he thought he saw something move in the darkness. A shape, tall and spindly, lingered at the edge of his vision before vanishing.
Mishan's heartbeat quickened. "It's just my imagination," he told himself.
Clutching the book tightly, he walked back to his seat, trying to shake off the unease. Yet, as he sat down, he couldn't resist opening the book again. The words on that single page seemed to burn themselves into his mind:
"The world of shadows awaits."
---
Hours later, Mishan found himself in his room, the book lying on his desk. He'd tried to focus on his studies, but his thoughts kept returning to the strange tome. The whispers, the flickering lights, the shadows—it all felt like a dream, yet the book was real, solid under his hands.
He ran his fingers over the emblem on the cover. It was cold to the touch, almost as if it were alive.
"Chosen for what?" he muttered. "What does it mean by 'the world of shadows'?"
Unable to resist, he flipped to the first page. The symbols and illustrations seemed random at first, but as he stared at them, they began to make sense. Images of a grand city shrouded in darkness filled his mind—its streets lined with towering statues, its skies swirling with violet clouds. He saw creatures lurking in the shadows, their eyes glowing faintly, watching him.
He blinked, and the vision disappeared, leaving him breathless. The room felt colder now, the air heavy.
Suddenly, the book's pages began to glow faintly, the symbols shifting as though rearranging themselves. A low hum filled the room, growing louder and louder.
"What the hell..." Mishan backed away from the desk, his heart pounding.
The glow intensified, and a beam of light shot out from the book, carving a circle in the air. The circle expanded, its edges shimmering like liquid metal, and within it, Mishan saw... another world.
It was the city from his vision—dark, foreboding, and impossibly vast. The air around him crackled with energy, and the whispers returned, louder this time.
"Mishan..."
The voice was clearer now, deep and commanding.
He should have run. He should have slammed the book shut and thrown it as far away as possible. But something rooted him to the spot, a strange mixture of fear and curiosity.
The light from the book enveloped him, pulling him forward. He tried to resist, but it was like an invisible hand had gripped him, dragging him toward the portal.
"No! Stop!" he shouted, but his voice was swallowed by the hum.
As the light consumed him, the last thing he saw was his room dissolving into shadows. Then, everything went black.
---
Mishan woke to the sound of wind howling around him. He was lying on cold, hard ground, the air heavy with the scent of rain and metal. Groaning, he pushed himself up and looked around.
He was no longer in his room.
The sky above him was a swirling mass of violet and black clouds, streaked with flashes of lightning. Towering spires loomed in the distance, their surfaces shimmering like glass. The ground beneath him was made of dark stone, cracked and uneven, and strange plants with glowing blue leaves grew in the crevices.
"Where... am I?" he whispered.
A shadow moved in the corner of his eye, and he turned sharply. A figure stood a few feet away, cloaked in darkness. Its eyes glowed faintly, like embers in a dying fire.
"Welcome, Mishan," the figure said, its voice deep and resonant. "You have crossed the veil. The world of shadows is now your reality."
Mishan stumbled back, his heart racing. "Who are you? What is this place?"
The figure stepped closer, and as it did, the shadows around it shifted, revealing a tall, humanoid form with sharp, angular features. Its skin was pale, almost translucent, and its eyes seemed to pierce into Mishan's very soul.
"I am Azrael," it said. "Your guide in this world. But beware—your journey here has only just begun. The shadows hold many secrets, and not all of them will welcome you."
Mishan stared at Azrael, his mind racing. He wanted to demand answers, to find a way back to his world, but deep down, he knew there was no going back.
The book had chosen him, and now, he was a part of its story.