It felt like walking into something ancient—something alive.
Lots of towering shelves rose so high they vanished into a golden mist far above. The wood curved and twisted like the roots of some colossal celestial tree, forming arches and corridors that seemed to have grown rather than been built.
It felt like we were too small, standing between something infinite.
Everywhere I looked, there were frames. Endless frames. Arranged across countless shelves, level after level, stretching so far I couldn't see the end. To sit and look through each one would take a lifetime—or more—and still not be enough.
Lucian walked ahead as though the path belonged to him. Not once did he hesitate. Not once did he look around.
I had to quick my steps to keep up.
"What is this place?" I asked, my voice small against the vast silence. "Where are we going?"
"You will find out," he said. Nothing more.
He turned into another corridor—if it could even be called that. The "walls" were towering structures of living wood, rising endlessly upward like the inside of some ancient cosmic tree.
As we stepped beneath a massive arch, my breath caught. Carved across the upper curve of the wood was a single word: Tishaq.
A little further—LimitA. Rath. Garth. Suzitha. Timaaz. Quimio. And countless more, stretching into infinity. My eyes kept following Lucian, moving too fast, too certain, as though the names themselves were alive.
Lucian walked past the arches without slowing, as though none of it surprised him. I could barely breathe. The scale pressed against me, making me feel smaller with every step.
He stopped. Above us, carved in bold letters into the arch: Earth.
The word felt small there. Out of all the infinite names we had passed—Earth was just one among lakhs. One small title beneath an endless ceiling of existence. How insignificant it looked.
Lucian stepped forward into the Earth section, and I followed, my eyes lifting slowly to take it all in.
The shelves stretched endlessly in both directions, fading into a soft golden mist. .
In one, the sun was just sinking into the horizon, sky painted in soft gold and violet. In another, a storm paused mid-flash, lightning resting quietly inside dark clouds. Some frames held mountains, tall and still, snowy peaks glowing gently. Others showed forests touched by sunlight, leaves caught in a silent breeze.
I walked slowly along the shelf, letting my fingers hover near the edges. One frame held a waterfall suspended in mid-air, every drop shining like glass. Another showed a wide desert, sand marked by footprints disappearing into the distance. Gardens full of color, petals forever in bloom. Snowflakes hanging softly in winter air. Autumn leaves floating above the ground. Ocean waves frozen mid-motion.
Everything inside the frames felt alive. But nothing moved..
"Pick the one that calls to you," he said, and there was a weight in his words that made my skin prickle. I choose a glowing frame of soft white clouds. He placed it on the ground; the frame shimmered, the light bending, folding, until it became a portal.
"You first, Lucian… I don't know what will happen," I stammered, my voice quivering.
He paused, and I felt the darkness in him lean closer, pressing against my awareness. "Scared now? You walk beside me without fear… until a doorway opens," he said, low and dangerous, each word vibrating against me like an invisible blade.
I crossed my arms. "You're sometimes… nice. And sometimes a complete jerk."
A slow exhale of air, almost a growl. "Impossible girl. Fine. Don't follow." The air shifted around me, heavy, tense. Then he stepped into the portal, and the silence that followed felt alive.
"Wait—!" I grabbed his arm, squeezing my eyes shut like a child refusing to see something horrible. "If something happens, I'm blaming you."
Nothing moved. No wind, no sound. Then his voice, close and sharp,: "Open your eyes, Cristina."
I slowly cracked them open—and froze.
We were standing in a world made entirely of clouds. Countless smaller clouds drifted lazily across a pale, endless sky, like spilled whipped cream. The ground beneath my feet was thick white mist—soft yet firm. I pressed down cautiously. It didn't sink. I pressed harder. Still solid. I put my full weight on it and blinked.
"…Why am I not falling?" I asked.
"It is not designed for you to fall," he said.
"Yes… you're right," I admitted, still in awe.
Trees of swirling vapor twisted gently like slow-moving smoke. Leaves shimmered like silver strands of fog. In the distance, ancient-shaped houses sculpted from dense clouds glowed faintly, shyly. Cloud chairs and tables hovered slightly above the surface, wobbling but never tipping over. Fresh, cool air brushed my face.
I stepped carefully, then a second step. "It won't break. It will not…" I laughed nervously.
"Yes," he said, leaning close, his voice low in my ear. "How long will you keep holding my arm?"
I let go at once, stepping back. My hand closed around nothing but air. His silence pressed on me, deliberate and tense. I turned away, pretending not to care, then broke into a short run, jumping lightly onto the cloud ground. It bounced softly, welcoming my weight. I rolled, laughed, and lay flat, letting the softness hold me.
Above, only sky—endless layers of drifting clouds. I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, arms spread as if I could hold the whole place. The cool air brushed my face.
Then I heard it—a quiet laugh. Without opening my eyes, I smiled faintly.
"So, Mr. Ravenswood… you laugh too?"
"You heard wrong," his voice said, distant and cold, then quieter, restrained. "You are truly childish."
I opened my eyes. Lucian sat a short distance away. His back faced me, mist curving around him, edges blurred, posture perfect—straight and still.
I laughed softly. "Well… if people from my world saw a place like this, they'd go crazy. Even more childish than me."