For several long seconds, neither of them spoke.
Kael searched the old man’s face, convinced he would find some hint of deception—a twitch of the lips, a flicker in his eyes, anything that suggested this was another test devised by the Hall.
He found none.
The traveler met his gaze with quiet patience, as though he had expected disbelief long before stepping into the chamber.
The Librarian, meanwhile, remained perfectly still.
He neither confirmed nor denied the old man’s claim.
That silence alone was more convincing than any explanation.
Kael slowly withdrew the blue notebook from inside his coat.
The leather cover had become worn since the day he first discovered it beneath Dawnhaven Academy.
Tiny scratches crossed its surface, and the corners had softened from constant use.
It no longer looked like an ancient relic.
It looked like something carried by someone who refused to let it out of their sight.
The traveler smiled the moment he saw it.
“It survived.” “You expected it not to?” “I expected many things.” His eyes lingered on the notebook.
“Very few of them happened.” Kael held the journal a little tighter.
“If you wrote it…” His voice was cautious.
“…then why leave it where anyone could find it?” The old man chuckled.
“I didn’t.” “What?” “I left it where one person could find it.” Kael frowned.
“It was hidden beneath the Academy.” “It was.” “There was no way you could’ve known I’d end up there.” The traveler leaned back comfortably.
“No.” “I knew.” The confidence in his voice sent a chill through Kael.
“How?” “I didn’t know your face.” “I didn’t know your name.” “I didn’t even know whether you would be born a hundred years later or a thousand.” He folded his hands over the head of his walking stick.
“But I knew someone would come.” The words hung in the air.
“You wrote the notebook for…
me?” The old man slowly shook his head.
“No.” He smiled apologetically.
“I wrote it for the Last Keeper.” Kael’s grip tightened unconsciously.
“They happened to become the same person.” Silence followed.
The Hall seemed almost reluctant to interrupt it.
Somewhere far above, golden letters drifted between unseen shelves, their soft glow reflecting across the polished floor like distant stars upon calm water.
Kael looked down at the notebook.
He remembered the first page.
The sentence that had refused to leave his mind ever since.
“If you are reading this…
then the world has already forgotten you.” At the time, he had assumed it was a warning.
Now…
It felt more like a greeting.
“You’ve been watching me.” It wasn’t a question.
The traveler nodded.
“When I could.” “You knew about the Academy.” “I knew about many things.” “You knew I’d meet Lyra.” A faint smile crossed the old man’s face.
“I hoped you would.” Kael blinked.
“Hoped?” “I’ve learned never to trust certainty.” The traveler sighed quietly before looking toward one of the towering shelves surrounding them.
“The future is…
stubborn.” “It dislikes being predicted.” The Librarian finally spoke.
“Yet you continued trying.” “I did.” “And?” The old man laughed under his breath.
“I failed spectacularly.” For the first time since entering the Hall, Kael noticed genuine amusement between the two men.
Not the formal respect shared by strangers.
The familiarity of old friends.
Or perhaps…
Old survivors.
“You know each other.” The Librarian nodded.
“For longer than either of us cares to count.” “I met him,” the traveler added, “when I still believed I could save the world by writing books.” “And now?” “Now I settle for leaving good notes.” Kael couldn’t help smiling.
There was something strangely comforting about the old man’s humor.
It reminded him of Professor Aldren—if Professor Aldren had spent several centuries wandering forgotten ruins instead of lecturing impatient students.
The smile faded as another thought surfaced.
“If you knew all this…” He looked directly at the traveler.
“…why didn’t you come sooner?” The chamber fell quiet again.
This time…
The old man’s expression changed.
The easy smile remained, but it became heavier somehow.
Touched by regret.
“I tried.” Kael frowned.
“What do you mean?” “I came to Dawnhaven.” “When you were twelve.” Kael’s eyes widened.
“I…” He searched his memories.
Nothing.
“I don’t remember.” “I know.” The traveler lowered his gaze to the notebook resting in Kael’s hands.
“You waved at me.” “You even asked whether I was lost.” A small, nostalgic smile crossed his face.
“You offered to walk me back to the village.” Kael’s breathing slowed.
Fragments stirred somewhere deep inside his mind.
Not memories.
Shadows of memories.
Rain.
A dirt road.
An old man carrying an enormous backpack.
They vanished before he could grasp them.
“What happened?” The traveler was silent for several moments.
When he finally answered, his voice had lost all trace of humor.
“The world corrected itself.” Kael frowned.
“…Corrected?” “It wasn’t supposed to let us meet.” Those words struck harder than any revelation before them.
“The moment I spoke to you…” The traveler looked toward the endless shelves.
“…people began forgetting I was there.” “By sunset…” “The villagers insisted I had traveled alone.” “By the following morning…” “Even you couldn’t remember my face.” Kael stared at him.
The old man gave a tired smile.
“I realized then that someone…” He tapped the cover of the blue notebook.
“…was editing the story.” The Hall grew impossibly still.
Even the floating letters seemed to hesitate.
The Librarian slowly closed his eyes.
“You shouldn’t have told him that.” “I know.” The traveler sighed.
“But we’re running out of time.” Kael’s heartbeat quickened.
“What do you mean?” Neither man answered immediately.
Instead, both of them turned toward the enormous window overlooking the unfamiliar night sky.
One by one…
The stars began disappearing.
Not hidden by clouds.
Not fading with dawn.
Simply…
Erased.
As though an unseen hand were wiping them from existence.
The traveler watched in silence.
Then whispered the words Kael had begun to dread hearing.
“…She’s found the Hall.” (continues)