Liam sat alone in his apartment, the old book Seraphina had given him resting on the table in front of him like a silent judge. He hadn't dared open it yet. Not because he didn't want to—but because something told him the moment he did, there'd be no returning to the normal life he'd always known.
The night was still. Too still.
He finally reached out and cracked open the cover. The scent of time—dust, ink, and forgotten whispers—rose from the yellowed pages. No title, no author, no foreword. Just an unmarked beginning.
But what startled him most… was that the first page was blank.
He flipped through the pages quickly. Blank.
Every single one.
He frowned, flipping back to the beginning. "What is this, some kind of joke?"
And then, as if summoned by the very frustration in his voice, a single sentence began to form—not printed, not written, but etched itself across the page in inky black script, like invisible ink coming to life.
> You've opened the first door, but doors go both ways.
Liam's blood ran cold.
He jumped back from the table, the book snapping shut on its own. The air around him seemed to shift, dense and electric.
His phone vibrated.
Seraphina Gale: Don't be afraid. This is how it starts.
He stared at the message. Was she watching him? Or… was this something more?
The book lay quietly, as though it hadn't just written to him of its own accord. He opened it again. More writing now, spreading slowly across the second page.
> Look beneath the statue in Whitlock Square at midnight. You'll find what was hidden. But be warned—once you uncover the past, it begins to look back.
Liam's breath caught in his throat. He knew the place—Whitlock Square. A forgotten patch of the city where an old marble statue of a faceless angel stood surrounded by ivy-covered stone. It had always creeped him out as a kid.
Why would Seraphina lead him there?
He stared at the page, wondering if the book would say more. But it remained still. Silent.
He didn't wait for courage. He grabbed his coat and left his apartment, the book tucked tightly under his arm. The streets were quiet again—almost too quiet for a city that never really slept.
It was 11:48 PM when he arrived.
The square was empty, bathed in silver moonlight. The angel statue stood at its center, wings spread, face smooth and blank like it had been carved away.
Liam approached it slowly, his footsteps echoing on the cobblestones.
"What am I even doing here?" he muttered to himself.
He reached the base of the statue. The marble pedestal was cracked at one corner. He knelt and felt along the edges until his fingers brushed against something unnatural—a small crevice.
He dug his fingers in and pulled.
A slab shifted free.
Inside was a box—metal, small, and sealed with an ornate lock. It looked impossibly old, with strange, unfamiliar symbols etched into the surface.
Liam pulled it out, his hands trembling. The moment it touched the moonlight, he heard it—
A whisper.
Faint.
Not in his ears.
In his mind.
> Open me...
He nearly dropped it.
"Liam."
The voice—not the whisper—startled him. He turned sharply.
Seraphina stood in the shadows of the square, the wind lifting her coat slightly. Her eyes glinted with something unreadable.
"You found it," she said softly.
"What is this?" he asked, voice rough with nerves.
She stepped forward and knelt beside him, her hand brushing the box gently.
"This," she said, "is the second key."
"To what?"
Her eyes flicked up to meet his. "To who you really are."
Liam felt like the ground beneath him was shifting. "What are you talking about? I'm just a normal guy."
Seraphina's gaze lingered on him a second too long. "No, Liam. You're not. You never were."
And then, before he could respond, the box in his hands clicked.
The lock unlatched itself.
And the box began to open.