The golden thread in the notebook pulsed faintly — a soft, rhythmic glow that danced across the page like the heartbeat of something ancient and waiting.
Caelum sat still beside Elowen on the balcony, the night air cool and weightless. Her head rested against his shoulder, her breath slow, tangled with sleep. The stars above hung in suspended wonder, silent spectators to something delicate unfolding between them.
He couldn't tear his eyes away from the golden thread. It wasn't a message, not a directive — merely there. A shimmering presence. A sign.
A bond.
He gently shifted the notebook onto his lap and touched the glowing image with the tip of his finger. Warmth met his skin — not the heat of fire, but something softer. More… alive.
Suddenly, the world slipped.
His breath caught in his throat as the notebook vanished from his lap, the night evaporating into a weightless fog. He was standing upright, barefoot, inside a twisting corridor of mirrors. Again.
But this time, it wasn't empty.
"Elowen?"
His voice echoed through the crystalline tunnel. Each mirror fractured his reflection into uncertain versions of himself — some reaching out, others turning away. The mirrors flickered between truth and distortion.
And then — her.
Across the maze, beyond walls etched with glowing script, Elowen stood barefoot in a pale dress, her hair unbound and gently swaying in a wind that did not reach him. She looked lost, but her eyes found him instantly.
"Elowen!" he shouted, taking a step forward. The maze pulsed.
She raised her hand. Her mouth moved — a name, his name. But no sound escaped.
Between them, glowing letters shimmered like barriers of light. "Deviation. Interference. Containment."
A voice — the same one from his dreams — whispered through the maze.
"The closer you become, the harder the story will fight you."
Caelum clenched his fists. "Let me through."
The maze didn't answer. The script only pulsed brighter.
He pressed his hand against one of the glowing walls. The letters shifted briefly — "Path Divergence Detected" — before sealing over again like skin stitching closed.
"Elowen!" he called once more. Her hand pressed against her side of the barrier. She smiled, faintly — bravely — and then the maze shattered.
—
Caelum jerked awake, his heart hammering in his chest.
The stars still glittered above. The night was still intact. Elowen was still beside him, her hand now loosely curled against his arm. She stirred slightly, murmuring something unintelligible in her sleep.
He looked down. The notebook was open again on his lap.
But now, across the page, glowing in clean, unmistakable lettering, was a message:
System Initialization — Progress: 9%Alternate Path Now Visible
Caelum stared at the words, his mouth dry.
He whispered, "What alternate path?"
The wind stirred the curtains behind him. A chill traced his spine.
Down below, the manor grounds lay cloaked in moonlight — peaceful, still.
Until thunder rolled faintly in the distance.
He blinked. The sky had been clear just moments ago.
A low rumble again, this time closer.
He turned to glance through the balcony rail — and froze.
A single carriage rolled up the moonlit path toward the estate, its wheels silent on the gravel. No crest. No lanterns.
A cloaked figure sat within.
Caelum's breath caught. That wasn't supposed to happen.
He gently shifted Elowen's head from his shoulder and rose, careful not to wake her. The golden thread still glowed faintly in the notebook, but the pages had stopped pulsing.
Downstairs, the front gates opened without command.
—
He reached the top of the stairs just as the doors creaked open.
Rain had begun to fall — soft and misty — casting a shimmering glaze over the cloaked traveler as they stepped inside. They moved with precise calm, as if entirely unsurprised to be welcomed.
One of the senior staff members, pale and clearly confused, stepped aside to let the guest through.
"I'm here by request," the figure said — voice low, even. "Lord Theron of the Capital's Magical Archive."
The name struck something cold in Caelum's gut. That name didn't belong yet — not here, not now.
Elowen was supposed to be safe.
"Request by whom?" the steward asked.
But Lord Theron offered only a mild smile and handed over a silver-edged parchment, bearing an official seal. "There are… anomalies on this estate," he said softly. "I'm here to observe. Nothing more."
Caelum descended the staircase slowly, every sense alert.
When Theron's eyes lifted to meet his, something strange happened.
For just a moment — no longer than a blink — Caelum's vision distorted.
Not just Theron's face. The entire room.
It flickered.
Like the world had momentarily blinked — and reloaded.
Caelum steadied himself on the banister.
The notebook in his pocket warmed against his chest.
Alternate Path Now Visible.
—
Later that night, as the storm rolled quietly across the sky, Caelum sat by the fire in the study, notebook beside him and the carved bookmark Elowen had gifted him in his hand.
He turned it over slowly, thinking of her quiet smile, the way her voice had filled with laughter in the garden.
The world wanted to tear this away.
He wouldn't let it.
But then — as Lord Theron passed by the open doorway in the corridor beyond, the little bookmark in Caelum's hand pulsed softly. Just once.
As if it recognized something.
Caelum stiffened.
And in the firelight, he didn't notice that his reflection in the darkened glass of the study lagged again — just by a breath.
And this time, it smiled slightly… even though he hadn't.