The road appeared when they decided to look for someone they weren't sure existed.
That's how magic worked here.
It waited until you believed.
They left The Origin behind.
The owl gave them a feather.
It whispered directions when held against the wind.
Mostly unhelpful things like:
"Not that way, dummy."
"Closer. Warmer. Not hot."
"Try thinking less and feeling more."
After half a day, they reached the edge of a library.
Not a normal one.
This one stretched into the sky, its shelves weaving through clouds.
Varn ran a hand along the walls. "Feels like it's made of breath and forgotten bedtime stories."
Flick pointed to a door hanging in midair. "And that door is upside down."
Sera muttered, "Of course it is."
Inside, the silence was deep.
Not cold.
Not scary.
Just… expectant.
Like even the books were waiting.
They searched for hours.
Climbing sideways ladders.
Leaning over floating desks.
Following whisper-trails left by ink spirits.
Until Elira saw it:
A quill.
Still moving.
But no hand held it.
It scribbled on a half-empty page, hovering in golden light.
She stepped closer.
The words shimmered.
Then disappeared.
Then wrote again:
"You finally came."
Elira touched the desk.
"Are you… the End Writer?"
No answer.
But more words flowed:
"I was. Before the fire."
"Now I am a whisper. A remnant."
Sera frowned. "That's… not good."
The quill paused.
Then began to draw.
A figure.
Blurry.
But tall.
Hunched.
Holding a book with no title.
And fire leaking from its spine.
"Someone stole the end," the page said.
"He is writing his own. And it will end everything."
Flick stepped back. "You mean… no more stories?"
Solin's jaw tightened. "Not just stories. Worlds. People. Memory."
Elira clenched her fists.
"Can we stop him?"
The quill hovered.
Then scratched a single word:
"Yes."
And below it:
"But you must write faster than he destroys."
The feather-owl suddenly fluttered from Elira's pack.
It exploded into dust.
The dust formed into a key.
"Guess that's for something important," Varn said.
A doorway opened in the air beside them.
It pulsed with blue light.
On the other side: a staircase, spiraling forever.
Elira stepped toward it.
But before she entered, the quill scratched one last thing:
"When the end comes… remember your beginning."
She nodded.
And led them into the spiral.
Because she had a pen of her own.
And a story worth fighting for.