Date: October 27, 2020
Tuesday
Time: 6:00 AM
My sleep hadn't fully worn off yet.
With half-opened eyes, I looked out the window—
cold air drifting in, a thin layer of morning mist hanging outside, birds calling softly…
the entire world seemed wrapped in the calm of dawn.
Just like every day, I woke up before the alarm rang.
I walked into the washroom, washed my face, brushed my teeth.
The cold water helped me wake up a little.
Freshened up, I sat beside my study table.
Everyone else at home was still asleep, the whole house being quiet.
I wondered which book I should read today.
Books were scattered on the table—Math, Science, English…
Then suddenly my eyes landed on the History book.
I realized I hadn't touched it in a long time.
So today, I decided to start with History.
I pulled the book out and opened it.
The first page had my basic info written on the top.
Name: Jason Freaks
Class: 8
Age: 16
Roll: 21
Session: 2019–2020
For a moment, I kept staring at my own name.
Sometimes I still feel strange about why Grandpa insisted on this name.
I flipped to the next page.
The chapter title read—
"The History of the Liberation War of 1971."
I never enjoyed reading History.
Just hearing the name gives me a headache.
So many dates, names, events, places....
none of them stay in my head —
War, freedom, sacrifice…
Still, if I want to do well in exams, I have to study.
I started reading slowly.
Half an hour passed without me even noticing.
But the more I read, the heavier my eyes felt.
Soon the words on the page began to blur.
My head lowered slightly onto the table.
The last time I looked at the page…
I felt like the letters were moving.
As if light was glowing from inside the book.
My eyelids grew heavier—
and in the next moment, everything went silent.
After a while, my eyes opened again.
Jason blinked—and realized he was no longer in his room.
An eerie silence surrounded him.
Towering bookshelves rose around him—so tall they looked like they might pierce the clouds.
Old leather-bound books, golden letters in languages he had never seen,
some books flipping their pages by themselves.
The floor was made of polished stone, glowing softly with blue light pulsing beneath it—
as if the entire library was alive.
When he looked up, countless floating orbs of light drifted like stars,
each one glowing faintly… like the soul of a book.
Somewhere far away, a clock ticked—yet time here felt frozen.
Strange artifacts rested in every corner: ancient quills, floating pages, peculiar glasses,
and even a book that created tiny images in the air whenever it opened.
A spiral staircase twisted upward endlessly.
At the center of the library, beside an old wooden desk,
sat an elderly man.
A chain of strange keys hung around his neck.
He looked up and said,
"Welcome, Jason.
Every book holds a world within it."
It was impossible to guess his age—
his face lined with countless wrinkles,
yet his eyes burned with the glow of centuries of wisdom.
His eyes shone like molten gold,
as if two miniature suns were trapped inside them.
A long snowy beard flowed down to his chest,
each strand shimmering softly like threads of light.
He wore a deep midnight-blue robe,
its edges carved with ancient symbols—
as if every design was part of a forgotten spell.
Around his neck hung an old chain, but the keys on it gleamed brightly—
as though each one could unlock a different world.
A quill on the desk wrote on its own,
yet the old man calmly watched Jason.
His voice was deep and slow—
"It has been a long time since someone crossed the gates of this library, Jason…
Your questions brought you here."
His smile was gentle,
but his eyes said—
He knows everything, but reveals only what he chooses.
I finally asked,
"Who are you?"
He replied,
"Alharin — in the ancient tongue, it means 'one who exists beyond the bounds of time.' "
"Mr. Alharin… then what is your job here?"
Alharin finally explained—
Long, long ago, before humans had books, there was the Era of Words.
People carved symbols on stones, walls, caves—
in those days, every word contained magic.
Alharin was the only Book-Word Guardian of that era—
a man who could enter any story
and extract knowledge… or power.
But one day, the magic of words spiraled out of control.
The worlds inside books began merging with each other—
war stories invading romance novels,
monsters destroying history texts,
time collapsing into itself.
To restore balance, Alharin had to seal his own soul within the walls of the library.
Since then, the Dream Library disappeared from the eyes of the world,
and he became its eternal guardian.
He waited for centuries—
for someone who would be born with the ability
to enter the worlds of books again.
But that person had to seek truth, not greed.
And that person…
was Jason.
"Wait, wait… why me?" Jason asked, stunned.
Alharin smiled softly.
"Because your curiosity is far greater than others'.
You don't just read stories…
you feel them.
You imagine yourself as the main character.
And that longing pulled you here."
Jason froze.
"Oh… I see."
Just then, Alharin asked,
"Would you like tea, or coffee?"
Jason blinked.
"There's tea or coffee… here?
Isn't this just a library?"
With a calm voice, Alharin replied,
"This is no ordinary library, Jason.
This is a magical realm.
Whatever you need… can be created."
Jason frowned slightly.
"Alright, but what exactly am I here for?
Why did I come?"
Alharin looked straight into his eyes.
"You came for knowledge.
And I will not disappoint you.
You want to understand the history of war.
I will guide you."
Then he asked again,
"So… tea or coffee?"
Jason gave up.
"Fine… since you insist so much, coffee then."
Jason stood quietly beside the table.
The entire library was silent—
only the faint sound of pages turning echoed through the air.
Alharin spoke slowly,
"Before any story begins… the mind must be calm."
He raised his hand gently—
and the air above the table rippled.
First came a soft chime,
as if an invisible bell rang somewhere far away.
A translucent circle formed in the air,
spinning slowly.
From within the spiral,
steam drifted out—
carrying the smell of chocolate, roasted coffee beans,
and warm morning smoke.
A shape appeared inside the swirling mist—
a transparent glass-like cup.
The coffee inside glowed like liquid bronze.
Alharin twirled his fingertip and blew lightly.
Tiny star-like sparks formed inside the cup,
melting into the coffee—
as if the night sky itself had been poured into it.
"This coffee doesn't just warm your body," Alharin said.
"It awakens your thoughts…
so you can hear the whispers of words."
Jason took the cup.
A tingling sensation spread across his fingertips.
At the first sip, he felt as if doors were opening inside his mind—
unknown memories, old scents,
the quiet breath of ancient pages.
He had never tasted anything like it on Earth.
While drinking, they talked—
and Jason learned many things he had never known.
As Jason took the last sip,
the air in the library suddenly felt heavier.
The candle flames trembled all at once.
Alharin extended his hand,
drawing something in the air with glowing fingertips.
Each line shimmered bright gold,
merging together to form the outline of a book.
A vortex of gray dust swirled around,
gathering into a solid shape—
and slowly, a massive ancient book materialized.
Alharin placed it on the table.
A deep sound echoed—like an old iron door creaking open.
On the cover, in golden letters, was written:
"NOXERION" — Burn To Ashes