The familiar scene of intricate webbing, surrounded by fractures animated and suspended in the air. That’s what I was expecting to see. Mysterious figments of time—past and future, interwoven into the webs—I was prepared for the revelation that awaited me. Prepared to witness the hidden secrets I sought.

But opening my eyes I was greeted with a sight that deviated from my expectations. The book in my hands, surrounded by the strange webbing, but no fractures. No fissures for me to glimpse into, to see the past and the future of the book’s missing pages.

It didn’t work, or at least, it only half worked this time. What did I do wrong?

Confusion washed over me as I tried to recall the process Alexei had taught me earlier in the day. The glass bowl, the feeling of the object, and the will for my imagination, for my consciousness to flow into the object. I had done it all the same. But was I not focusing on the right thing?

I took a moment to gather my thoughts and reassess my approach. Looking into the future wouldn't yield the results I desired since it concerned the missing pages, not the rest of the book. But perhaps delving into the book's past could lead me to the culprit who tore out those pages.

With a newfound determination, I tried once more, focusing my attention on the book's past. I closed my eyes, visualising the scenes that unfolded in the library, imagining the moments before the pages were ripped out.

As I delved deeper into my concentration, I felt a shift in my perception. When I opened my eyes, I expected to see glimpses of the past, to witness the hand responsible for the book's mutilation. However, what greeted me was far from my expectations once again.

Before me was the book itself, perched on a familiar shelf, observing the library from the second floor. It was as if I was viewing the scene from the book's point of view. I could see the rows of shelves, the dimly lit corners, and the patrons leisurely flipping through pages.

But this wasn't what I had hoped to discover. My brows furrowed in frustration. Why was I only seeing such an ordinary scene? I wanted to witness the moments leading up to its defacement, to uncover the identity of the culprit in the moment.

Disappointment washed over me, but I couldn't let it deter me. I had to analyse the situation and find a way to refine my ability further. There must be a key, a specific focus or a detail that I was missing.

I was determined not to give up, but I know I wouldn’t be able to continue forever. Only after trying a couple of times, my breath was getting heavier and my heart was starting to beat faster. Eventually, I would have to yield for the day if I didn’t get what I came for in time.

Still knowing that I continued to try and try again. Trying harder to concentrate each and every time. Exhaustion only accelerating faster as time passed on.

Unfortunately, only similar results would come, except on the rare chance that I would get excited to see someone reading the book I was looking through. Though it was just a regular patron, just going about their day, I would go back to being disappointed.

Just as I was about to give in to the overwhelming exhaustion, a last-minute thought crossed my mind. It was a fleeting idea, but it held a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could try one last time with a new method. With renewed determination, I picked up the book once more and opened it to the torn-out page.

Closing my eyes, I ran my fingertips over the remnants of the torn edges. They felt rough and jagged as if the missing page had been forcefully ripped out. The torn fibres whispered secrets of lost words, a piece of the puzzle now missing.

Drawing a deep breath, I focused on the exact moment when the page was torn from the book. I envisioned a hand gripping the edge, the strain and force exerted. The sound of paper tearing echoed in my mind as I connected with that instant of destruction.

Slowly, I opened my eyes, my heart pounding in anticipation. And there, standing before me, was a figure—a shadowy silhouette surrounded by a mysterious aura. It seemed as though the act of imagining the complexities and intricacies of the object produced a higher quality fracture, as it felt as though I was in the scene itself. Able to look around the scene more vividly rather than through a screen-like fracture in the middle of space.

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The figure didn’t seem malevolent in the slightest, though I could clearly and visibly see them tearing out a page from the very book I was projecting myself through. A page that I hadn’t read yet.

The figure wore black robes, intricate and expensive-looking as if they belonged to a clergyman or a member of a religious group. It was an odd sight—a man dressed in such regal attire, standing before me in the depths of the Leode library. I would’ve expected someone like this to live in the capital.

He appeared older, his features weathered with the passage of time. There was a gentle kindness in his eyes, a sincerity that seemed at odds with the act of tearing apart a harmless library book. But why would a man like this be involved in such a petty act as ruining books?

A sudden realisation struck me like a bolt of lightning. There was a peculiar encounter I had back in the town of Fallholt, a random encounter with an older man dressed in similar attire. He approached me with a gentle smile, sharing a few words and then vanishing as I had to quickly leave with Fleur. The memory flooded back, and I couldn't ignore the connection.

The man from Fallholt and the figure before me shared more than just a resemblance in clothing. The expensive robes were a far cry from the attire worn by the people here in Leode, suggesting a different background. It seemed likely that this old man would have had to travel three hours or so to Leode, tear up books, and go right back home. But why? It seems so petty and stupid, like a prank. What secrets lay beneath that oh-so-sincere demeanour?

My mind raced with possibilities, trying to make sense of it all but could come up with no realistic answer. Was he connected to other mysteries I had been unravelling? Or was he simply a pawn in a grander scheme, driven by unknown motives I had yet to discover?

With beads of sweat dripping down my forehead, I knew that I would have to call it for the day and give in there. It wasn't ideal as I knew if I kept at it, I would figure out something greater. But at least I had a face, a figure to connect the dots to.

As I made my way back past the enigmatic shelves and into the public area of the library, I spotted Robin at the counter, issuing some books to customers. Her eyes glanced up at me as I walked by. “Eli, did you find the books you were looking for?”

“Yes thank you, they were great reads,” I replied, trying to blend in with the other customers.

“That’s great to hear. If you need any more assistance, you’ll know where to find me,” she smiled.

With that, I gave her a quick nod and turned to leave the library, brushing down my suit.

Back outside, the sun had started to set already, casting purples and pinks across the sky. The fatigue really starting to wear on me. Not only had I used my exhausting ability this morning with Alexei, but now another five or so times at the library. It was great practice and I expect to improve rapidly, but it really did do a number on me.

I walked out to catch another carriage for a single copper coin, taking me back near Caius’ house, but once again the door was locked. Was Caius out having drinks again with Fleur or his other buddies?

With a sigh of frustration, I decided not to wait outside for Caius any longer. It was clear he wasn't home, and I didn't have the energy to stand around and speculate about his whereabouts. I made my way to the back entrance and went straight inside the still-unlocked backdoor.

I quickly washed up, had a simple meal from the leftovers that Caius had used from last night’s dinner and went right up to my room to rest for the night. I crawled under the covers, feeling the weight of fatigue pulling me down as I closed my eyes and fell to sleep.

As I drifted into sleep, my mind became a canvas for a vivid dream state. I found myself back in the library on the second floor, outside of the book-like point of view. It was as if my dream had extended my ability, giving me the ability to walk around the fracture feeling half-lucid.

Driven by a new curiosity to explore my illusionary surroundings, I ventured closer to the figure. Step by step, I closed the distance between us, the tension mounting with each passing moment. The dream world warping and shifting around me with each passing moment. It was evident that this was a different plane of reality than the one in my ability.

Just as I approached the figure, my heart pounding in my chest, I caught a closer glimpse of his face. His features were distorted, twisted by the darkness that enveloped him. And then, in a sudden burst of terror, his eyes darted directly at me, their gaze piercing through the dream's veil.

I jolted awake, gasping for breath, my body covered in a cold sweat. The image of those eyes lingered in my mind, haunting me even in my awakened state. It was as if the old man's gaze had followed me from the dream as if he was watching me from reality and not in the dream state.

It was an inexplicable feeling to describe, something almost alien. Was someone out there watching me?