As the Vault pulsed with energy, Mira stepped back, her fingers tingling from the orb's touch. The library around her had begun to shift — not physically, but narratively. It was rewriting itself, page by page, in real-time. Her story was now part of its architecture.
Then… silence.
From the edge of the Vault, a doorway emerged — not summoned by Mira, but offered by the library itself. It bore a golden frame etched with ancient runes, and at its center, a glowing title:
"The First Story."
The cat appeared again, tail twitching. "You're being invited into the origin."
Mira frowned. "Origin of what?"
The door opened. A warm wind swept through, carrying voices — young, raw, full of wonder.
"Of everything," the cat said.
Inside, the landscape was vast — not a room, but a world. Rolling hills made of parchment. Trees with leaves like open books. Rivers of ink. And in the sky, constellations shaped like characters — dragons, dreamers, stars.
This was the birthplace of imagination itself.
Mira stepped through, and the sky shifted in response. Somewhere deep within, a shadow stirred again — watching. Waiting.
But this time, Mira wasn't just walking into a story.
She was writing it.
(Fun stories by Gabrielle Ehi).