Miralen opened her bag and pulled out her notebook— a white spiral— bound one, its edges slightly worn. She flipped it open.
The first few pages were filled with hurried scribbles, and scattered thoughts she had written earlier.
She turned the pages until she reached a blank one.
Taking out her pencil, she began to write.
Caedmon watched her in silence.
Miralen glanced at the book, then back at her notebook. Carefully, she reversed the first three lines she had seen.
After finishing, she hesitated, then looked up at him. "Can you check if this is correct?" she asked.
Caedmon didn't even look at the notebook. "I'm afraid I can't."
Miralen blinked. "But why? At least this you can do." The disappointment in her voice was impossible to miss.
Caedmon exhaled sharply. "Don't you remember what I told you before?" he said. "That book is meant for you to read. Not me."
Her shoulders drooped. "But I'm just asking you to–"
"Wait. Listen first."
His tone cut through her words before she could finish.
"Everything written in that book," Caedmon continued, calm but firm, "and everything you write from it into your notebook, is not meant for me to read. Understand that."
He paused, his gaze steady.
"This is one of the rules of the cathedral. One you didn't know yet. And breaking it...has consequences."
Miralen let out a slow breath.
"...Okay."
She looked back down at her notebook, resting her head in her palm. Her pencil tapped lightly against the table— once, twice— echoing softly in the vast library.
She reads the lines quietly, once.
"To enter a soul's era, the Heir must read the books the right way. Every word is written in reverse, and only when read correctly does an era open. A single mistake can lead the Heir to the wrong moment...or trap them between the pages."
Miralen stared at her notebook for a long moment, slowly, she looked up at Caedmon. Her eyes were wide— not in shock, but in something far worse.
Fear.
"Is... is it true," she asked, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it, "that I'll be trapped between the pages if I read it wrong?"
Caedmon met her gaze.
"Oh, yeah. That's true." He said it so casually it almost hurt. "So you need to be careful," he continued. "These are the rules of time travel between eras."
Miralen looked back down at her notebook. A tight knot formed in her chest. For the first time since entering the cathedral, regret crept in.
She shouldn't have come here.
But now... she couldn't leave. Not until her task was complete.
Miralen closed her eyes, inhaling slowly, forcing herself to calm down.
Fear won't help.
Guilt won't save me.
If anything, they would only make me weaker.
When she opened her eyes again, her expression had changed.
She began reversing the words once more— faster now, but still careful. Every stroke of her pencil was deliberate. The hesitation was gone.
Determination had taken its place.
Caedmon watched her quietly. A faint smile curved his lips, almost imperceptible. Perhaps— just perhaps— he approved.
After a few minutes, Miralen finished.
She leaned closer, reading what she had written with care.
"Only one era may be entered at a time," she murmured. "Attempting to open another before leaving the current one causes... time overlap, which can shatter memory and identity."
She exhaled softly.
"These rules sound pretty dangerous," she said, half-amused.
"Far more dangerous than you think," Caedmon replied, his gaze shifting briefly from the book back to her.
"Huh?" Miralen looked at him. A faint smirk tugged at her lips.
"You sound like you've been through this before."
"Maybe," he shrugged. "Who knows?"
Her smile faltered.
"Wait– what?" She leaned forward. "What do you mean? You've been through this too?"
"I don't know," Caedmon said calmly. But the calm hid something.
Miralen narrowed her eyes. "Hey. Tell me," she pleaded, inching closer. "Please."
"No," he said flatly, leaning away. "And stay back."
"Aww, come on," she tried again.
Caedmon shook his head in a clear denial.
Miralen leaned back in her chair with a sigh, finally accepting defeat. Arguing with him was pointless— and she knew it.
She looked back at her notebook and leaned forward slightly, reading the next rule.
"The book decides which era shall be entered. The Heir must only read and obey. The Heir is transmigrated into someone already close to the soul— a sibling, a servant, or a friend. The role given cannot be denied. Refusal will bring consequences."
Miralen leaned back slowly.
"These rules are really weird..." she murmured under her breath.
Caedmon looked at her. "They aren't weird," he said calmly. "They're warnings. A survival instinct."
Miralen glanced at him. "Yeah, I–"
Before she could finish, the book suddenly glowed.
A sharp flash of light burst from its pages, and with a heavy thump, it snapped shut on its own— as if it had decided enough had been revealed.
Miralen froze, staring at the closed book, her eyes wide.
She slowly looked at Caedmon.
"What was that?" she asked, both confused and startled.
Caedmon exhaled, his expression turning serious.
"Looks like it's time."
"Time for what?" Miralen asked.
"I mean," he said, nodding toward the book, "the soul book meant for you is about to appear. And once it does... you'll have to enter that soul's era to free them."
Miralen swallowed and nodded, understanding settling in. She looked back at the table.
Suddenly, the library began to glow.
A deep, golden light spread across the room as books lifted themselves from the shelves, soaring through the air like restless birds. Pages flipped wildly on their own, the sound of rustling paper filling the vast space.
Miralen turned slowly, her mouth slightly open in awe. "This is..." she whispered.
Caedmon, however, looked unfazed— like this was something he had witnessed far too many times.
Then one book broke away from the chaos.
It flew toward them and landed gently on the table. Closed.
It was dark maroon in color, its corners embroidered in black.
At its center rested a deep red ruby, gleaming faintly as if it were alive.
One by one, the other books returned to their shelves.
The library fell silent again.
Miralen stared at the book, hesitation flickering in her eyes.
She reached out, fingers hovering just above the cover, admiring its craftsmanship before glancing at Caedmon.
"That was... amazing," she said softly.
"Or maybe... beautiful."
Caedmon blinked. "Uh... yeah," he replied awkwardly.
Miralen looked back at the book.
"So," she said quietly, "this takes me to my first journey?"
"Yes," Caedmon nodded. Then he hesitated, his voice lowering.
"And I... hope you do your best."
Miralen chuckled lightly. "Thanks. I definitely needed that."
She placed her hands on the book and opened it.
A brilliant light burst forth, swallowing the table— and Miralen— with it.