Yara finally found a matchbox-sized key hidden beneath the office desk—so old its metal was green at the edges. She didn't explain what it opened. Milo followed her wordlessly through the back hallway, past racks of jars humming faintly, until they reached a door he had mistaken for a supply closet.
The key slid into the lock with a slow, aching click.
Inside was not a closet.
Bookshelves towered from floor to ceiling, each shelf packed with narrow ledgers bound in black thread. Some were dusty; others vibrated faintly, as though holding something restless.
The air smelled old—like rain-soaked paper and something deeper, something restless.
"This," Yara whispered, "is where the café keeps the unfinished."
She pulled one ledger free. The book twitched in her hands like a heartbeat trying to escape.
"What… are these?" Milo asked.
"Every person who's ever had their fate nudged here."She opened it. Inside were pages of drink orders, names, and fates half-written in glowing ink.
Some pages were blank on the right.Stalled. Silent. Waiting.
"When a customer's destiny becomes unstable," Yara said, "their ledger reacts. The Eclipse Blend woke them up."
Milo stepped closer. On the shelf behind her, dozens of books trembled.
"All of these?" he whispered.
"Unfinished." Yara met his eyes. "Untied threads in fate become dangerous. They don't stay still."
Milo felt the weight of the word dangerous settle over him like an unwelcome coat.
"What happens to people with unfinished fates?" he asked.
"Nothing." Her voice was quiet. "And that's the problem. Nothing is stillness. Stillness turns into cracks. Cracks spread."
She closed the ledger and placed it gently on a table.
"The café is waking up every loose destiny," she said. "All because of the Eclipse Blend."
Milo exhaled shakily."So how do we fix it?"
Yara gave a hollow laugh."If anyone knew how to fix unfinished destinies, Milo, this room wouldn't exist."
Suddenly, one of the ledgers fell from the shelf.
It hit the floor with a loud slam—spine cracking open, pages flaring.
On the center page, ink bloomed into a single name:
Milo Reyes.
Yara froze.Milo's heart stopped.
He had a ledger.
He had an unfinished fate.
"The café doesn't do this for staff," Yara whispered. "Only customers."
"But I never—"
The truth hit him like cold water.
He had taken a sip of the Eclipse Blend when it splashed his hand yesterday.
Yara stared at the ledger like it was a lit fuse.
"Milo…"She swallowed hard."Your fate is no longer written."