Ahab's breath was heavy, his mind struggling to grasp what had just happened. First the book, then Jones, the impossible weapon... now this?
He stepped forward, his wet coat dripping onto the polished floor.
A deep sigh came from behind the desk. "Ah, Captain Ahab. Or should I say... Ahab, son of the madman?"
Ahab tensed, hand instinctively moving toward his saber ...only to realize it was gone.
A man sat behind the desk, leaning back in a large leather chair. He was middle-aged, with sharp eyes. His brown coat and waistcoat gave him the air of a gentleman, but there was something otherworldly about the way his fingers tapped idly on the desk, as if he wasn't entirely human.
Ahab narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
"Tom Taylor, Keeper of Human Consciousness and stories. I manage this place."
Ahab's gaze flickered around the library. "Where am I?"
Tom smirked. "You're in-between. Not dead, not alive—just caught between the pages of history."
Ahab scowled. "Enough riddles. Where am I?"
Tom gestured around. "You're inside the Library of the Unwritten. A place where stories that should never exist come to rest. And you, Captain, are one of those stories."
Ahab clenched his fists. "What do you mean?"
Tom sighed and pushed a thick, leather-bound book toward him. Ahab hesitated, then opened it.
It was blank.
Page after page, empty.
Tom rested his chin on his hand. "Your story isn't done yet. You were supposed to die just now, but something... changed. And when history changes, it ends up here."
Ahab's head throbbed. The book Jones had given him. His fate. His execution. The whale...
His voice was low. "Moby Dick."
Tom raised an eyebrow. "Ah, so you did see him."
Ahab's fingers curled against the book. "Why was he here?"
Tom leaned forward. "Because he's more than just a whale, Captain. He's an anchor, a creature that ties stories together. Your father chased him to madness, but you? You were never meant to see him."
Ahab exhaled sharply. "So what now? You tell me my fate, like Jones?"
Tom chuckled. "No. I'm here to offer you something."
Ahab frowned. "What?"
Tom laced his fingers together. "A pen."
Ahab blinked. "A pen?"
Tom's eyes gleamed. "A pen that rewrites your story."
Ahab went still.
"You see, Captain," Tom continued, "Jones isn't the only one who can alter a story. But the difference is, you have a choice. You can go back, return to your story and let fate unfold... or you can take control."
Ahab stared at the blank book in front of him.
The weight of his father's name.
The betrayal of the navy.
The flames of his sinking ship.
The empty pages.
His chest burned, not just from Jones' blaster, but from something deeper.
Ahab lifted his gaze. "And what if I refuse?"
Tom leaned back, smiling. "Then your story will take you where it wants to go. And trust me I read it, your story isn't kind."
Ahab reached forward, his fingers hovered over the pen.
Ahab can't make the decision to take it or not. so, before he made a decision he asked Tom one more time about who he was and what actually is Moby Dick. Tom took a look at the poor captain, let out a sigh and took a piece of a book that was thinner than normal and it was filled with graphics rather than only words. He handed it over to Ahab.
Ahab stared at the strange book in his hands. It was thinner than any book he had ever seen, its cover glossy and vibrant. The title:
"The Unwritten."
His fingers traced over the cover, and his breath hitched when he saw the illustrated face of Tom Taylor, the same man sitting in front of him.
"This..." Ahab muttered, flipping through the pages.
The pictures inside moved like frozen moments in time, showing Tom's life.
Ahab's pulse quickened. "What... is this?"
Tom exhaled, tapping his desk. "That, Captain, is a comic book. A modern form of storytelling—one you wouldn't know about because it comes from a time centuries beyond yours."
"As you can see, I am the character standing on top of the book in the cover page of the comic."
With shock on his face, Ahab said "You're also a character in a book?"
"You will be more surprised when you hear that I am a character inside another book in this comic," said Tom.
"HUH?!?!" Ahab was so confused after hearing that statement from Tom but, Tom simply replied "That's a story for another day, Captain" with a smiling face.
Ahab clenched his jaw. "Then... this library?"
Tom nodded. "The collective unconscious of mankind. A place where every story—fictional or historical resides. Every myth, every legend, every tale spun by a writer's hand lives here. This is where reality and fiction blur."
Ahab's grip on the comic book tightened. "So, what does that make me?"
Tom studied with him. "That, my dear Captain... is the real question, isn't it?"
Ahab's eyes darkened. "I am real. I have lived. I have bled."
Tom gave a knowing smile. "And yet, you exist within a novel, written centuries after your time."
With that, he reached to the side and pulled another book from the shelf. A worn, leather-bound novel. He set it on the desk and turned it so Ahab could see the cover.
"Moby-Dick or The Whale" by Herman Melville.
Ahab froze.
Tom tapped the book. "This is your past. Well, not quite. It's your father's story." He flipped open the pages, revealing passages of Captain Ahab's obsessive hunt for the white whale, his descent into madness, and his ultimate demise. "A work of fiction, yet... it has shaped the reality you live in."
Ahab's breath grew unsteady. His father... a character in a book? A madman carved into the fabric of time by someone else's hand?
His mind reeled. If his father was nothing more than ink on a page... what did that make him?
Ahab slammed the comic down on the desk. "You're saying my entire life has been a lie?"
Tom shook his head. "No. You are real, Ahab. Just as real as any man. But your story is... complicated. The moment you stepped beyond what was written, you became something new—something unwritten."
Ahab turned away, his hands curling into fists.
The library. The books. The whale.
Everything felt like an illusion.
Ahab clenched his jaw. "And Moby Dick?"
Tom folded his hands. He leaned forward, his expression turning more serious. "Moby Dick has always been more than just a whale. He is an idea, a force of nature, a manifestation of human obsession and fate. That's why he exists here as well. His role in your father's story is undeniable, but what's interesting... is that you have seen him too."
"Haven't all the people in my story seen the whale before? What makes me special?"
"Funny thing is, no one ever saw the whale in your story. Most people just heard rumors or just continued the statements from the original books. For example, the sailors you met years ago that have claimed seen the whale and sail with your father was just a random character added with the information from the original books. This is because not every crew of The Pequod have been introduced in the books so adding a character that can claim he has been in the ship doesn't mean he really sailed with your father, right?" Tom replied.
Ahab is so confused, he doesn't understand a single thing Tom says to him.
Ahab turned back, his voice low. "So what does that mean?"
Tom smiled faintly. "It means that you, Captain, have a choice. You are not bound to the pages of your story anymore. You are unwritten. You can carve your own path, define your own legend."
He gestured to the pen on the desk.
"Take it, and you can rewrite your fate. Or leave it, and let the tide take you where it may."
Ahab stared at the pen.
His hands trembled.
Then, slowly, he reached out—
And stopped.
His heart pounded. His mind screamed at him to decide.
But something deep inside whispered,
"Not yet."
He pulled his hand back and met Tom's gaze.
"Before I make my choice..." Ahab said, his voice firm. "Tell me what happens if I refuse."
Tom studied him for a moment, then sighed, leaning back. "Ah, a cautious man. Very well, Captain. I'll show you."
With a snap of his fingers—
The library vanished.
Ahab's breath hitched as he found himself standing on a battlefield. Flames burned across the sea, ships wrecked and splintered. The air was thick with smoke and gunpowder.
And at the center of it all—
Captain Jones, standing atop the wreckage of The Son of the Exiles, his mechanical arm glowing with eerie light.
Ahab's own body lay in the wreckage, motionless.
Dead.
Tom's voice echoed behind him.
"This is what happens if you refuse. The story unfolds as written. You are betrayed. You are executed. And history remembers you as nothing more than another failed son of Ahab."
Ahab's blood ran cold.
His choice had never mattered more.