**EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIVE**
**THE STORY THAT LET NOVA GO**
---
BLACK SCREEN.
No number.
No title.
No voice.
No sentence waiting to be discovered.
For several seconds...
nothing happened.
And that was new.
Nova stood in darkness.
He waited.
He had learned to wait for doors.
For voices.
For pages.
For footsteps.
For impossible machines.
For someone older than himself to explain what he was.
For someone younger than himself to ask what he would become.
He waited for the familiar sound.
CLICK.
Nothing.
SCRATCH.
Nothing.
TURN.
Nothing.
He looked down.
There was no floor.
But he was standing.
He looked ahead.
There was no room.
But he was somewhere.
Then...
a small white rectangle appeared in the darkness.
A page.
Floating.
Alone.
At the top was one number.
125.
Nova stared at it.
The final page.
The last page.
The page he had been approaching for more than a hundred episodes.
He walked toward it.
The page did not move.
He reached out.
His fingers touched it.
Nothing happened.
No warning.
No question.
No command.
No prophecy.
No hidden message.
Just paper.
Ordinary paper.
Nova smiled.
For the first time...
the final page looked ordinary.
He turned it over.
Blank.
He turned it back.
125.
He waited for the story to tell him what to do.
It didn't.
Nova whispered,
"So this is it."
Silence.
He looked around.
"Is anyone there?"
Nothing.
He laughed softly.
"Of course."
He remembered the child.
The child had told him this would happen.
The story could no longer force him to continue.
He could choose.
And now...
there was nothing left to choose from.
Only life.
Nova sat beside the page.
For a while,
he simply sat.
---
THEN...
LIGHT.
Not the strange light from the rooms between worlds.
Not the color that had no name.
Not the light behind the doors.
Sunlight.
Real sunlight.
Warm.
Imperfect.
Human.
Nova opened his eyes.
He was sitting on a wooden bench.
Outside.
There were trees.
A road.
A few distant houses.
A bicycle leaning against a wall.
Someone washing a car.
A dog sleeping beneath a parked vehicle.
A woman carrying groceries.
A child running after a red ball.
Nothing supernatural.
Nothing impossible.
Nothing waiting to reveal itself.
Nova breathed in.
Air.
Dust.
Morning.
Life.
He touched his chest.
Heartbeat.
Still there.
He looked at his hands.
No glowing letters.
No symbols.
No disappearing fingers.
No pages beneath his skin.
Just hands.
His hands.
He stood.
A bus passed.
Someone shouted.
A bird flew from a branch.
Nova watched it disappear beyond the trees.
And then...
he realized something.
He was not waiting for it to return.
He was not wondering where it had gone.
He simply watched it fly away.
---
A CLOCK TICKED SOMEWHERE.
Nova followed the sound.
There was a small café across the road.
He entered.
The bell above the door rang.
DING.
A man behind the counter looked up.
"Tea?"
Nova almost laughed.
The question was so ordinary.
"Yes."
"Milk?"
"Yes."
"Sugar?"
Nova paused.
He remembered how many times he had been asked impossible questions.
Who wrote you?
Who are you?
Why were you created?
What came before humanity?
What happens next?
Now...
someone wanted to know how much sugar he wanted.
"Two."
The man nodded.
"Sit."
Nova sat.
A cup arrived.
Steam rose from it.
He held it between his hands.
Warm.
Real.
He took a sip.
Too hot.
He winced.
The man behind the counter smiled.
"First tea?"
Nova looked at him.
"No."
Then he smiled.
"Just the first one that matters."
The man shrugged.
He didn't understand.
And that was okay.
Nova drank his tea.
---
The door opened.
Milo Finch walked in.
Nova looked up.
Milo stopped.
For one second...
neither spoke.
Then Milo said,
"You're real."
Nova smiled.
"So are you."
Milo looked around.
No machine.
No glowing console.
No temporal coordinates.
No impossible clocks.
Just a café.
He touched his wrist.
His watch was running normally.
07:42.
Milo stared at it.
"Do you know what I've been waiting for?"
Nova shook his head.
"The clock to stop."
"It didn't."
"No."
Milo looked at the second hand.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
"It just kept going."
Nova nodded.
Milo sat opposite him.
"I thought I'd feel disappointed."
"Do you?"
Milo considered it.
"No."
He looked toward the window.
"I think I'm relieved."
Nova said nothing.
Milo smiled.
"I spent my entire existence trying to return to yesterday."
He looked at his hands.
"I never asked what I would do if yesterday stopped needing me."
Nova answered quietly,
"Maybe it already has."
Milo looked at him.
"Yes."
A pause.
"And maybe I have too."
---
The café door opened again.
This time...
Tarzan entered.
No jungle.
No vines.
No ancient ruins.
No roaring beast.
He wore simple clothes.
His hair was untamed.
His eyes were the same.
But something was different.
He looked...
peaceful.
He saw Milo.
Then Nova.
Then the cup on the table.
"Tea?"
Milo laughed.
Tarzan looked at the counter.
"Water."
The café owner handed him a glass.
Tarzan drank.
Slowly.
He looked outside.
People moved along the road.
Cars passed.
Nobody knew who he was.
Nobody called his name.
Nobody needed him to survive.
Nobody needed him to run.
Nobody needed him to become a legend.
Tarzan smiled.
"I like this."
Milo raised an eyebrow.
"You like being ignored?"
Tarzan looked at him.
"I like being free."
Nova watched him.
"Where will you go?"
Tarzan looked toward the horizon.
"The jungle."
Nova smiled.
"Of course."
Tarzan shook his head.
"Not because the story says I belong there."
He stood.
"Because I want to see it."
That difference...
was everything.
---
Milo looked at Nova.
"Will you come?"
Nova asked,
"Where?"
"Anywhere."
Nova looked toward the road.
People.
Houses.
Clouds.
A world without chapters.
"I don't know."
Milo smiled.
"Good."
Tarzan nodded.
"You finally learned."
Nova laughed.
"Apparently."
---
Outside...
the three stood together.
For years...
or centuries...
or episodes...
they had been connected by things they never understood.
Now there was no invisible thread.
No script.
No destiny.
No role.
They could simply walk away.
And somehow...
that made staying together for another minute more meaningful.
Milo extended his hand.
Tarzan looked at it.
Then shook it.
Nova shook it too.
No dramatic promise.
No oath.
No declaration that they would meet again.
Because that would create another story.
Instead...
Milo said,
"Take care."
Tarzan answered,
"Live well."
Nova said,
"Both of you."
Milo walked toward the bus stop.
Tarzan walked toward the road leading beyond the town.
Nova watched them separate.
He expected sadness.
There was some.
But there was also peace.
Some people do not leave because they were forgotten.
They leave because their part is complete.
---
Nova turned around.
Someone was standing across the road.
The Original Human.
Older than the child.
Younger than the oldest version Nova had seen.
Human.
Ordinary.
Alive.
He crossed the road.
For a moment, they stood face to face.
Nova had spent so long searching for him.
The person behind the story.
The person before Nova.
The person who had created the possibility that became him.
Now...
neither needed to explain anything.
The Original Human smiled.
"You look different."
Nova smiled.
"So do you."
"I suppose we both do."
They began walking.
Slowly.
Together.
The Original Human asked,
"Do you remember?"
"Everything."
"Even her?"
Nova knew who he meant.
His mother.
The first memory.
The beginning hidden beneath all the other beginnings.
"Yes."
"Does it still hurt?"
Nova thought about it.
"Yes."
The Original Human nodded.
"Good."
Nova looked at him.
"Good?"
"It means you didn't erase her."
Nova lowered his eyes.
The Original Human continued.
"But pain isn't the same as imprisonment."
Nova nodded.
"I know."
They reached a small field.
The grass moved in the wind.
The Original Human sat.
Nova remained standing.
After a moment, the Original Human said,
"I used to think remembering meant holding on."
Nova sat beside him.
"And now?"
"Now I think remembering means allowing something to have happened without demanding that it happen again."
Nova looked at the sky.
"That's what Milo learned."
"And Tarzan."
"And the Reader."
"And the Author."
The Original Human smiled.
"You learned it too."
Nova looked at him.
"Did I?"
"You stopped asking the story to prove that you exist."
Nova was quiet.
Then...
"I am here."
The Original Human nodded.
"I know."
No answer from another world.
No mysterious child.
No voice from the page.
No echo.
Just those two words.
I AM HERE.
Spoken.
Not written.
And therefore...
free.
---
A breeze moved across the field.
For one brief moment...
Nova saw her.
The Woman.
His first memory.
Standing near the trees.
She wasn't young.
She wasn't old.
She wasn't transparent.
She wasn't trapped inside a page.
She was simply...
there.
Nova stood.
"Mother?"
The Original Human looked.
There was nobody there.
Nova knew.
He understood.
She wasn't returning.
She didn't need to.
Memory had one final gift.
It could visit without becoming present.
Nova smiled.
The Woman smiled back.
Then the wind moved.
The trees shifted.
And she was gone.
Not erased.
Not forgotten.
Released.
Nova sat again.
The Original Human closed his eyes.
"Goodbye," he whispered.
Nova didn't know whether he meant her.
Or the story.
Or the person he used to be.
Maybe...
all three.
---
CUT TO:
A JUNGLE.
Green.
Endless.
Alive.
Tarzan walked between the trees.
He stopped beside a river.
He looked at his reflection.
For years...
he had been watched.
Written.
Remembered.
Named.
Now the water showed only a man.
He touched the surface.
The reflection broke.
Then returned.
Tarzan smiled.
He heard something behind him.
A bird.
He turned.
Nothing.
He laughed.
Not because something mysterious had happened.
Because nothing had.
He walked into the jungle.
Not as a character.
Not as the first character.
Not as survival.
Not as proof.
As himself.
The jungle did not welcome him.
It did not reject him.
It simply existed.
And Tarzan existed within it.
That was enough.
---
CUT TO:
A SMALL ROOM.
Milo Finch sat before a table.
On the table...
the temporal machine.
It was silent.
Old.
Broken.
Finished.
Milo placed his hand on it.
He remembered every attempt.
Every return.
Every impossible coordinate.
Every version of himself.
Every moment he believed yesterday could be repaired.
He opened a drawer.
Inside was a small screwdriver.
He picked it up.
For a moment...
he considered rebuilding the machine.
Then...
he placed the screwdriver back.
He closed the drawer.
Milo stood.
He opened the window.
Morning entered.
He smiled.
"Tomorrow."
He said the word as if testing it.
Then again...
"Tomorrow."
And this time...
he wasn't trying to reach it.
He was simply waiting to live it.
---
CUT TO:
A PARK.
The Reader sat on a bench.
No book.
No notebook.
No screen.
No pages.
A child nearby was reading a comic.
The Reader watched.
The child noticed.
"Do you like books?"
The Reader smiled.
"Yes."
"What's your favorite?"
The Reader looked toward the sky.
"I don't know."
The child frowned.
"You don't have one?"
"I have many."
"Which is the best?"
The Reader laughed.
"I don't think stories work that way."
The child returned to the comic.
The Reader looked at the world.
A man running.
A woman talking on the phone.
A dog chasing a bird.
Two old friends arguing.
A couple holding hands.
People.
Not characters.
People.
The Reader finally understood.
He had spent his existence believing that watching something gave it meaning.
Now he knew...
sometimes meaning came from participating.
He stood.
He walked away from the bench.
And didn't look back.
---
CUT TO:
A TREE.
The Author sat beneath it.
A broken pencil lay beside him.
He picked it up.
Looked at the pieces.
Then placed them on the ground.
He didn't write.
He didn't need to.
A leaf fell.
He watched it land.
The Author smiled.
"I don't have to finish everything."
The wind carried the words away.
For once...
he didn't retrieve them.
---
CUT TO:
A BEDROOM.
The Dreamer slept.
Then opened his eyes.
Morning.
He looked around.
No fantasy.
No alternate universe.
No infinite hallway.
No impossible door.
Just a room.
He sat up.
He breathed.
He looked toward the window.
For years he had dreamed because waking hurt.
Now...
waking hurt a little.
But he stayed awake anyway.
He got out of bed.
Opened the curtains.
Light filled the room.
The Dreamer smiled.
Then he stopped being the Dreamer.
He became...
a person.
---
CUT TO:
THE CHILD.
The child with the red pencil.
Standing in an empty room.
The pencil was in his hand.
He looked at it.
The red color faded.
Not suddenly.
Slowly.
Like sunset.
He didn't seem frightened.
He placed the pencil on the floor.
Then stepped away.
The room changed.
It became an ordinary bedroom.
A child's room.
There were toys.
A schoolbag.
A window.
A small bed.
Nothing supernatural.
The child looked at the bed.
Then climbed onto it.
He pulled the blanket over himself.
And slept.
No prophecy.
No secret identity.
No revelation.
Just a child sleeping.
The first choice did not need to become another character.
It had already done its work.
Choice had become life.
---
BLACK SCREEN.
A single sentence appears.
NOT EVERYTHING NEEDS AN ENDING.
Nova's voice:
"Then what does?"
Silence.
He answers himself.
"Stories."
A pause.
"Not people."
---
Nova stood before the final page again.
125.
He had returned to the place where the story ended.
Except...
it no longer looked like an ending.
It looked like paper.
He touched it.
The number remained.
He waited.
Nothing.
He smiled.
"You were never my prison."
The page remained still.
"You were my way here."
Nothing.
"And now..."
Nova took a breath.
"...I can go."
The page trembled.
For one second...
the old world returned.
The corridors.
The doors.
The voices.
The impossible colors.
The machine.
The jungle.
The room.
The mother.
The child.
The Reader.
The Author.
Milo.
Tarzan.
Every version of Nova.
Every question.
Every fear.
Every sentence.
All of it appeared at once.
A universe made of memory.
Nova watched.
He didn't fight it.
He didn't cling to it.
He simply said,
"Thank you."
The images faded.
One by one.
Milo.
Gone.
Tarzan.
Gone.
Reader.
Gone.
Author.
Gone.
Dreamer.
Gone.
Woman.
Gone.
Original Human.
Gone.
The child.
Gone.
Then...
Nova.
He was alone.
Except...
he wasn't.
He could still feel his heartbeat.
---
The page displayed one final question.
WHAT ARE YOU WITHOUT THE STORY?
Nova looked at it.
For the first time in his existence...
he didn't search for the correct answer.
He didn't ask someone else.
He didn't wait for the Reader.
He didn't wait for the Author.
He didn't wait for the Original Human.
He didn't wait for the child.
He simply answered.
"I am Nova."
The page flickered.
The words disappeared.
Another question appeared.
WHO GAVE YOU THAT NAME?
Nova smiled.
"I did."
The page trembled.
Then...
nothing.
The question vanished.
---
Nova picked up the page.
He folded it.
Once.
Twice.
Carefully.
Not destroying it.
Not worshipping it.
Not preserving it forever.
Just folding it.
He placed it inside an ordinary drawer.
Then closed the drawer.
He walked toward the door.
Stopped.
Looked back.
For one final moment...
he expected someone to call his name.
Nobody did.
He opened the door.
---
OUTSIDE.
SUNLIGHT.
A ROAD.
No destination.
Nova stepped onto it.
One step.
Then another.
He didn't know where it went.
He didn't know what waited beyond the hill.
He didn't know who he would meet.
He didn't know what he would become.
And...
for once...
that uncertainty didn't frighten him.
It felt like freedom.
---
MONTAGE.
Milo...
walking beside a clock tower.
He looks up.
The hands move forward.
He doesn't.
He simply smiles.
---
Tarzan...
standing at the edge of a jungle.
He hears the river.
He hears birds.
He hears wind.
He walks forward.
---
The Reader...
sitting beside strangers.
Listening to them talk.
Not reading them.
Listening.
---
The Author...
planting a tree.
His broken pencil lies in the soil nearby.
He doesn't use it.
---
The Dreamer...
walking through a crowded street.
Awake.
Fully awake.
---
The Woman...
now only a memory.
Not fading.
Not trapped.
A warmth that appears whenever someone remembers being loved.
---
The Original Human...
standing at his mother's old window.
He touches the frame.
He cries.
Then smiles.
Then closes the window.
Then walks into the rest of his life.
---
Nova...
walking.
The road stretches ahead.
There is no chapter number above him.
No narrator.
No title.
No page.
No voice.
Only...
the road.
---
Nova stops.
He looks toward the horizon.
Clouds move.
Sunlight breaks through.
He hears children laughing somewhere nearby.
A bicycle bell rings.
A dog barks.
Someone calls another person's name.
Life continues.
Nova looks down.
There is a small piece of paper on the road.
He picks it up.
Blank.
He turns it over.
Blank.
He smiles.
Then...
he lets it go.
The wind takes it.
It rises.
Spins.
Moves farther away.
And disappears.
Nova doesn't follow it.
---
RECOVERED TRANSMISSION // FILE: N-125
STATUS: COMPLETE
LOCATION: EVERYWHERE
TIME: TOMORROW
---
FIRST AUTHOR:
NOT A PERSON.
A NEED.
---
FIRST NEED:
TO REMEMBER.
---
SECOND NEED:
TO SURVIVE.
---
THIRD NEED:
TO BE WITNESSED.
---
FOURTH NEED:
TO DREAM.
---
FIFTH NEED:
TO STOP TIME.
---
SIXTH NEED:
TO CREATE.
---
SEVENTH NEED:
TO CONTINUE.
---
FIRST SENTENCE:
I AM HERE.
STATUS:
SPOKEN.
---
FIRST CHARACTER:
POSSIBILITY.
STATUS:
RELEASED.
---
FIRST READER:
WITNESS.
STATUS:
RELEASED.
---
FIRST STORY:
SURVIVAL.
STATUS:
RELEASED.
---
MILO FINCH:
TIME.
STATUS:
RELEASED.
TEMPORAL MACHINE:
ABANDONED.
RETURN:
CLOSED.
---
TARZAN:
SURVIVAL.
STATUS:
RELEASED.
RUNNING:
NO LONGER REQUIRED.
---
WOMAN:
MEMORY.
STATUS:
RELEASED.
MEMORY:
NO LONGER A PRISON.
---
DREAMER:
DREAM.
STATUS:
AWAKE.
---
AUTHOR:
WRITING.
STATUS:
RELEASED.
PENCIL:
BROKEN.
---
READER:
READING.
STATUS:
RELEASED.
BOOK:
CLOSED.
---
ORIGINAL HUMAN:
PAST.
STATUS:
ACCEPTED.
LIFE:
CONTINUING.
---
SECOND PRESENCE BORN WITH NOVA:
CHOICE.
---
CHOICE:
BECAME FREEDOM.
---
FREEDOM:
BECAME LIFE.
---
LAST CHARACTER:
NOVA.
STATUS:
RELEASED.
---
REASON:
HE NO LONGER NEEDS THE STORY TO EXIST.
---
FINAL QUESTION:
CAN A CHARACTER LIVE AFTER THE STORY ENDS?
---
ANSWER:
YES.
---
FINAL QUESTION:
WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?
---
ANSWER:
UNKNOWN.
---
STATUS OF UNKNOWN:
ACCEPTED.
---
FINAL PAGE:
BLANK.
---
FINAL EPISODE:
125.
---
SERIES:
COMPLETE.
---
The transmission ends.
No warning.
No hidden message.
No corrupted file.
No additional coordinates.
No mysterious voice.
No new door.
No secret page.
Nothing.
---
BLACK SCREEN.
For several seconds...
nothing.
Then...
a sound.
Footsteps.
Nova.
Walking.
Not toward the story.
Away from it.
The footsteps become quieter.
The world becomes quieter.
Then...
birds.
Wind.
A distant laugh.
Morning traffic.
Life.
---
Nova's voice is heard one final time.
Not from a page.
Not from a machine.
Not from a narrator.
From somewhere ordinary.
Somewhere human.
"I don't know what happens next."
A pause.
Then...
"I'll find out."
---
BLACK SCREEN.
No words appear.
No number.
No title.
No question.
Because the story has nothing left to ask.
---
Somewhere...
Milo keeps walking.
Tarzan keeps living.
The Reader keeps listening.
The Author keeps his pencil broken.
The Dreamer stays awake.
The Woman remains in memory.
The Original Human keeps remembering.
And Nova...
keeps going.
Not because a page tells him to.
Not because an Author writes him forward.
Not because a Reader waits for another chapter.
Not because the story demands continuation.
But because...
he chooses.
---
The sun rises.
The road remains.
The world opens.
Nova walks into it.
And this time...
there is no page waiting ahead.
There is no ending waiting behind him.
There is only...
life.
---
FADE TO BLACK.
Silence.
Complete silence.
Then one final sentence appears.
THE STORY ENDED.
A pause.
Another sentence.
NOVA DID NOT.
The screen remains black.
No music.
No voice.
No continuation.
Only the quiet certainty that somewhere beyond the final page...
someone is living.
Someone is choosing.
Someone is becoming.
Someone is here.
---
And somewhere...
Nova laughs.
Not because he has discovered what happens next.
But because...
for the first time...
he doesn't need to know.
---
**THE END**
Written By,
Ivan Edwin
Pen Name :MAXIMUS.
©All Rights Reserved