Chapter 8 – Where Forgotten Endings Sleep
783 Words
Elianna
The next morning felt like walking through someone else’s dream.
The forest was too still. The birds too silent. And her body—though moving—felt borrowed. Like she wasn’t fully here. Or maybe, she was too much here.
She stood at the edge of the creek, splashing cold water on her face, trying to ground herself.
Nothing worked.
She could still hear the Keeper’s voice. Still feel the way time itself recoiled when she and Leonardo chose each other. As if love had become a threat.
Behind her, Leonardo stirred from sleep. She turned, eyes locking with his.
No words were exchanged. Only the silent understanding: they were still here. Still together. Still alive—for now.
“We need answers,” Elianna said quietly.
Leonardo nodded. “Then we go to the ruins.”
Leonardo
The ruins weren’t far.
Once, it had been a monastery—stone columns, archways with vines, and a bell tower now half-swallowed by the earth. It had been abandoned even in his time, a relic no longer cared for. But there were stories.
Stories of a book hidden beneath the altar. A book that did not record what was, but what could have been.
A priest once called it Ang Aklat ng mga Hibla—The Book of Threads.
Most said it was legend.
But after seeing Elianna appear through a seam in time… he no longer doubted anything.
The ruins loomed ahead.
Elianna touched the cracked pillars. “It feels familiar.”
He looked at her. “You’ve never been here.”
“I think I have.” She turned slowly. “Not as Elianna. As Celestina.”
She was remembering more now. Little details. The scent of the old candles. The pattern of the floor tiles. A soft voice in the back of her head whispering prayers she had never been taught.
They stepped inside together.
And the veil responded.
The temperature dropped. The shadows lengthened.
And then the floor glowed.
Just briefly—one second.
Then silence again.
They approached the altar.
It was overgrown and broken, but Leonardo knelt and began clearing the earth from its base. Elianna joined him. Their hands were cold. Their breath visible.
Finally, beneath the cracked stone, a hollow chamber revealed itself.
Leonardo reached in.
And pulled out a book wrapped in dark blue silk and bound with thread spun from something silver and alive.
Elianna touched it—and flinched.
The cover pulsed.
And then… the book opened on its own.
The Book of Threads
The pages did not contain words at first.
Only lines. Threads. Diagrams of connections—people, places, choices.
Then the ink shifted.
Words formed like they were being written in real time.
Two souls.
A hundred lives.
One story they were never allowed to finish.
The last time they reached each other, war tore them apart.
The time before that, a fire consumed the house.
In another, she married someone else, and he vanished into the hills.
Elianna read faster, trembling.
But now, they remember.
And now… they rewrite.
“Leonardo,” she whispered. “This book—it knows us.”
He stared at the page that now bore his name. His birthdate. Even the scar near his collarbone.
It knew everything.
Even what came next.
If they write their ending now… time will hold it.
But only once.
They must be sure.
They stared at the empty page the book had turned to.
A golden quill lay beside it—shimmering, humming.
Elianna reached for it, then paused.
“What happens if we write the wrong ending?” she whispered.
Leonardo didn’t answer.
Because behind them… a gust of wind swept through the chapel.
The Keeper had returned.
The Keeper
“It is not the book that makes you eternal,” it said, stepping forward.
“It is the choice. And not all choices are merciful.”
Elianna stood protectively in front of the book.
“We found it. We earned this ending.”
The Keeper’s presence shook the air.
“Then write it, soul-splitter.
But remember—if your ending is not true… time will consume it.
And all traces of you… will vanish.”
Leonardo stepped forward. “Then we write it together.”
They gripped the quill—both hands.
And the page awaited them.
Elianna began to write.
Not just with ink.
But with memory.
With ache.
With love.
We loved.
We lost.
We found each other again.
And this time—we stay.
As the last word was written, the book snapped shut.
The glow spread across the chapel like wildfire.
The ground shook.
The veil cracked—
And all went white.
- Writer
